Page 208 of Hateful Games

The nightlife here beats anywhere I’ve vacationed so far. Since arriving yesterday, the girls and I have explored the best foods here during the day while hitting the clubs at night. Barhopping on the streets of the Strip.

My favorite was the hour we bet at the casino. Mostly, because it was my lucky night since I won. A lot. While Bianca and Iris got smug and lost half of theirs. Iris has gone on a trivia spree, regaling us with all the spots we encountered from the movie The Hangover.

She’s gone as far as to giving us the wrong directions to drive to her favorite ones.

We’ve had to hold her phone hostage after switching it off.

Bianca, who was next in charge of navigating Google Maps, since I’m the one driving the Ferrari we rented, was worse. Because she kept driving us to the shopping malls and strolling through every store to buy clothes and whatnot.

Ultimately, I had to connect the maps app to the Bluetooth in the car. Much to their dismay.

Well, if I’m not allowed to visit bookstores, neither are they allowed to enjoy their addictions.

Despite their pouts, we’re having the time of our lives.

Especially Iris, who feels right at home at the Omnia club at Caesars Palace. Our destination for tonight’s dancing and drinking. Since all of us wanted to drink and not pick a designated driver, we decided to visit the club of the hotel we’re staying at.

“One more round!” shouts Iris to the waitress in our private booth with a view of the dance floor below.

“Slow down, woman,” I mock scold her. “We have all night.”

“I’m going to kick your drunk ass if we have to leave early,” threatens Bianca. “And miss the Magic Knights show because you passed out.”

Oh, did I mention the mother hen of our group actually bought us ticket to a stripper show? With a private room for partying afterward.

“Spill it, Bee.” I squint my eyes over the rim of my dirty martini. “The bachelorette party is a front. You just wanted to watch naked men grind and thrust.”

She gasps with her hand to her heart, gaze wounded. “I am hurt by the accusation. I accidently saw the tickets for their show and, well, it’s MAGIC KNIGHTS! No sane women would say no to that. Or scroll away without taking a peek.”

“Will Channing Tatum there be?” hopefully asks Iris. Crossing her fingers, she pleads to the ceiling. I’m guessing she’s picturing God. “Please let him be there. Please. Please.”

Biting my lip, I hold back my laughter. I don’t have it in me to break the poor girl’s heart. Glancing at Bianca, I taunt, “Are you going to tell Dash after you confess you came on a secret trip to Vegas?”

“And risk not being able to sit on my ass for a week?” She shakes her head. “Hell no! And I’m not lying to him. I did tell him one day I was going to attend a strip show. I just never said when.”

“I’m sure he won’t see it that way.”

“I would’ve invited him, but I don’t think it’s his scene.”

“Or we never tell the guys.”

“I can’t keep a secret from Dash.”

“So, you’re willing to tell half a lie but not all of it?” My tone sounds incredulous. “If you confess, we’d have to confess too.”

“Stop arguing, you both!” scolds Iris over the pounding music. “We promised no talk about our husbands or boyfriends. The trip is about us, not them.”

Bianca and I glance at each other and sigh apologetically.

“You’re right,” I admit to Iris.

“Exactly.” Pointing at us, she says, “So fuck them and let’s dance.”

Our tequila shots arrive right then. With an excited grin, we each grab ours, then down them in one go. The burn has us reaching for the lemon slices.

The dance floor beckons us with its strobe lights, the fog, and electric music.

Taking the curved stairs with mirror paneling on one side, we reach the dance floor and push our way to the middle through the throng of sweaty and drunk bodies. The three of us are twinning tonight in our matching sequin minidresses. Though our colors and styles are different.

---