Page 22 of Clinch'd

“What do you mean, leave town?” Lorri asks me suspiciously from her perch at the end of my bed.

I was too much of a coward to tell her beforehand and now she’s watching me pack. I’m literally sweating because I hate lying and I hate lying to her and I feel like she can see right through my shit, but I have to persevere until she calls me out while I hope like hell she doesn't.

“Yes, um. My boss had a vacation planned but she came down with a really bad case of the flu. She can’t go and um, they said since I’m such a good employee that I should take it.” My face is rosy, and I can’t even make eye contact as I stick my head in the closet and roll my eyes. This is so fucked, but what choice do I have? None. Fuck.

“Okay, where are you going?” she says, stepping up behind me.

Technically I’m going to Las Vegas, and after that I have no fucking clue. Is it better to stick with a partial truth or a complete lie? I don't know.

“Vegas,” I mumble, pulling a nice shirt from a hanger. The worst part about this fucking ordeal is I don’t have the appropriate wardrobe to hang out with the people Beast does, and I don’t exactly have the money to run out and buy one.

As if she can read my thoughts, Lorri says, “You can’t wear that. Or this or this.”

She proceeds to unpack my suitcase while I stare at her dumbfounded before walking over to her space, which is basically the same room but with a sheet in between. Pulling out brightly colored clothes, she shoves them into my suitcase without showing me.

Resigned, because I need the damn clothes and she wouldn't listen to me anyway, I let her pack me while I grab my toiletries and zip them into a smaller bag. When I emerge from the tiny bathroom, I spy her dropping in a negligee and raise an eyebrow.

“Whatever, maybe you’ll get laid,” she huffs. “Seriously, you should make that your main goal. You need it.”

“What does that mean?” I demand, dropping my bag on top of her clothes tossed in the suitcase without care for wrinkles. With a mental roll of my eyes, I give it up to god and sit down on the edge of the bed as she comes around and stands over me.

My heart stutters at her bright blue-eyed stare because she looks so much like our mom that I’m momentarily speechless.

Looking away, I acknowledge that I miss our mom so much as I sit here and contemplate Vegas, Cooper and fucking made men.

But then the pain recedes to the dull ache I’ve become accustomed to, and I focus on Lorri’s rambling once more. Truthfully, although I loved my mother, she was a shitty parent and would have been useless in my crisis anyway.

“You need to live a little. Have some fun. Life isn't just about duty.”

I can’t help my ironic smile because my slave to duty is what keeps a roof over her head. She hasn't paid rent since she got her first job and wouldn't know what a utility bill is if I smacked her in the head with it. I know this is my fault, because I’ve spent so many years looking after her, and I've never been able to figure out how to let the instinct go. Now she’s the flighty fun one lecturing me about getting laid.

“Whatever,” I grumble, zipping up the suitcase. “I’ll call you. Do not invite anyone over and do not get arrested. I won't be here to bail your ass out.”

She smiles devilishly and crosses into the bathroom. “I'll do my best, oh wise one.”

Chuffing, I pass by the bathroom and say softly, “Just be safe. Okay?”

She smiles and looks away, hiding her emotions behind a brash exterior that I recognize all too clearly. I may not be adventurous and wild but I’m familiar with the instinct to hide my pain behind a facade of my own making.

With a sigh, I let it go, because I know we both cope in the only way we know how. But this is weird, and different because I haven’t been away from her since we were separated as children, and now the loss is pushing at my throat, telling me instinctively not to leave. A knee jerk reaction to the fucking past I can’t see my way through.

I've never flown before, and I can't say I liked it much, but I am enjoying Vegas. The sights and sounds are beyond what little experience I have, living in the same shitty town my entire life. It's ten o'clock at night and I'm exhausted.

Beast sent me check in details to the hotel we’re staying at on the strip which I discover is the main drag from the rideshare driver who won’t shut the fuck up.

My jaw drops when I enter my room because I wasn't expecting it to be so big and it even has a couch. Dropping my suitcase, I open the blinds and peek outside. It's beautiful and I smile as I look out over the brilliant lights.

After taking my fill, I sit on the bed and then lie back, enjoying the plush mattress. I could get used to this, because my mattress at home is a hand-me-down from an upstairs neighbor.

The bathroom has a beautiful walk-in shower and little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion. I even spy a mini bar when I explore the front room before collapsing to the couch with a sigh. I’m exhausted but strangely hyped up. Maybe it's the city, alive around me but I’m not sure I could sleep if I wanted to. Of course, the tiny voice in my head reminds me that I’m here to see Cooper again.

My phone chirps on the table, and I know it's not Lorri because I texted her when I arrived, and she said she was off to bed. Opening it with a frown, I see it’s from Beast.

U here?

Yes

Come upstairs

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