And Now She's Gone(86)
Stuck in Sin City.
The bitch was back.
Some good would come from celebrating Clarissa’s upcoming nuptials and being one of the girls again. And then there was also something personal, too … something bloodier.
Gray had thought about things.
She’d taken steps.
Like burning all those extraneous phone numbers and providing her coworkers with a new number. They didn’t blink, because new numbers were a part of the game. Since then, she hadn’t received a text message from Sean.
Like changing her routes around the city again, no longer driving herself, not even in Nick’s cars. Instead, she rode in cars hired from hotels just a half mile south of her apartment.
Like giving Jennifer the Lincoln case, if necessary. Jennifer probably would have finished by now, anyway. With her experience, she would see the links more clearly than Gray.
By Sunday, life would be different for Gray … or whoever she’d be by then.
Gray had packed a few things that she could have left behind in five seconds but didn’t want to leave behind. She wished she could have left that raggedy Liz Claiborne purse, but she had no other handbags. She did pack thin black gloves and those soft jeans she’d washed hundreds of times over four years. She’d packed the signed copy of President Obama’s memoir, which she’d read twice and highlighted. Where there is no experience, the wise man is silent. She had also packed that black, yellow, and red handmade mandala she bought on a family trip to Panama so long ago. Irreplaceable things that could again be a foundation for her new start in a new place.
Gray also had made a stop at the safe deposit box that held her Tiffany journal and Faye’s jewelry. She left the diamonds and took the keys to the house in Summerlin. She also took her amended birth certificate, which had been issued once the Graysons had formally adopted her, and fifteen thousand dollars in cash.
And the black Louis Vuitton backpack that Nick had privately gifted her for Christmas, she’d brought that with her, too.
And now the girls poked at her, making ado about the four-thousand-dollar extravagance with the asymmetrical zipper and metal studs. “Since when does Dominick Rader pay us enough to buy Louis Vuitton?” Clarissa laced her calf-high Doc Martens boot, just one piece of her Final Fantasy tutu-leggings-ponytail ensemble that she’d put together for her special weekend.
Jennifer snorted. “Since when does Gray carry designer bags? Was it a Please take me back gift from the Hot Marine?” The blonde looked like she wasn’t traveling to Clarissa’s destination, not wearing those mom capris, espadrilles, and Cartier sunglasses. WASPy cosplay.
From the front seat of the taxi, Zadie popped open a can of Dr Pepper. “Since when is it any of your business how she got the damned thing or why she’s carrying it?” Zadie wore sensible sandals and a gold sundress. Nana-wear. She smelled of sunscreen and cigarette smoke.
Gray wore blue jeans and a white T-shirt with no funny sayings or memorable graphics. She planned to blend in this weekend.
Yes, Nick had given her the backpack, and she didn’t want to leave it behind because it was gorgeous, and Nick didn’t spend several grand for “just friends.” When she’d first taken it from its dust bag on that Christmas day, she’d imagined the days and nights afterward: Holding hands at the Santa Monica Pier. Going to the driving range and swinging a nine iron as he chose a Big Bertha. She imagined their drives along the Pacific Coast Highway. Kisses—short and sweet ones, and then longer, breathtaking ones. But then, in real life, he’d told her that they couldn’t happen yet because she needed time. So, if she couldn’t have him, she’d have his bag, and she clutched it to her chest as their hired car headed north toward the Strip.
No more lobster and sirloin steak for a dollar on the Strip. No more showgirls, either. The hotels in the pyramid, the lion, the castle, the big top, and the needle hadn’t changed. Some spots were newer—slick-sided, non-kitschy high-rise hotels like the Aria and the Cosmopolitan.
I’m back here after swearing …
Gray’s stomach felt waxy and slick. She wanted to vomit. She closed her eyes and waited for the dizzy spell to pass.
Jennifer waggled Gray’s knees. “You okay?”
“She’s fine,” Clarissa said. “She’s perfect. This is perfect. Nothing will go wrong this weekend.” The bride-to-be patted Gray’s head. “For a minute, though, I totally thought you were gonna, like, flake. We’re gonna have so much fun!”
Jennifer found her mirrored compact in her purse, then applied a new coat of cotton candy–pink lipstick. “And I’ll show you all the sights. I know Vegas better than any of you. It’s like a second home.”
Gray smirked. Oh, Jennifer. She was happy to hang out and be a girlfriend. Even though she kept her true intentions secret, she would enjoy as much drinking, gambling, and celebrating as she could before retreating underground again like a cicada.
“As a present to you”—Jennifer pointed at the bride-to-be—“Nick told me to use the company card for dinner tonight.”
“He’s paying?” Clarissa said, eyes wide.
Jennifer nodded.
Clarissa screeched.
“That man is a mystery,” Zadie said.
“Yeah,” Jennifer agreed. “One of those sexy men with mysterious pasts.”