Page 92 of Vegas Daddies

I look at Brander, register the stoic demeanor, and somehow feel more comfortable acknowledging the P-word, at least to myself.

Childhoods don’t get much worse than Brander’s.

If he’s been through hell, I’m sure he’d do everything in his power to ensure a child doesn’t go through the same.

“Keep your voice down.”

“But it’s so fucking terrifying, Ali.” Rachel inserts the straw of her drink into her mouth like it’s a pacifier, then turns back to me, eyes peeled wide open. “I can’t believe they kidnapped you. Threw you in the back of a trunk. What the fuck? Your dad needs to end the campaign before it gets too much out of hand.”

“I know,” I say, “but he can’t. Apparently, according to Lifesaver, he doesn’t want to either. They killed my mom, remember?”

“Yeah!” Rachel says, “but that’s because he approached them first.”

Tammy takes the straw from her mouth. “Couldn’t he just lie? Take out the campaign and still go ahead with his evil genius plan?”

Of course she’s the one to bring that up. All she did throughout college was lie. Lie about not doing the reading because a grandparent (all were dead) had fallen down the stairs. Lie at the bar with fake smiles and compliments to guys she didn’t find attractive, just to score a free drink.

“Lying only gets you so far, Tam.”

“Plus, we’re talking about Russians here,” Rachel says. “Not stuck-up-their-own-ass university professors and drunk boys.” She goes back to sipping her drink.

A shopping mall is where we decided to meet up today, and I chose Chick-fil-A for food. I can imagine Russians sticking theirnoses up at trashy, American fast-food places like this, which means we’re in the clear.

Chicken strips have been calling my name for days.

I dunk one into ranch sauce, reveling in the satisfyingcrispthat comes when my teeth break the crispy exterior.

“So you’re coming around, then?” I ask.

“Huh?” Tammy tilts her head.

“About the boys? Brander, Match, and Lifesaver? You hate them…less?”

“Well, it sounds like they saved your ass,” Tammy says.

“Good.” I dust off my hands. Lower my voice. This next bit will be fun. “Because I have a feeling I might be pregnant.”

“ALICE!”

“Shhhh!”

“Alice!” Tammy hisses more quietly.

Rachel removes the tray of chicken from my grasp. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” I begin, “is that I woke up at hell o’clock this morning feeling sick.”

“And you threw up?” she asks.

“That’s one word for it.”

“Alice.” Tammy slaps her hands down on the table like she means business. “You need to do a pregnancy test.” Her lipstwist into a grimace. “Oh my god, what if you’re pregnant? Is there a chance it’s Levi’s?”

“No,” I say immediately. “Given the date of my last period, and the fact that Levi and I hadn’t had sex for a few weeks before the bachelorette, there’s no way it’s his.”And isn’t that a relief.

“Well, that’s good then.” Rachel bites her lip. “But then whose would it be?”

“Easy,” Tammy says. “Which one has the biggest dick?”

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