Page 30 of Wicked Truths

“Then we’ll be sure the weekend will be a hit.” Izzy giggled into the phone. Weird, Izzy didn’t giggle. “You work too hard, when is the last time we had a good old-fashioned late afternoon drink?”

“Never?”

“Exactly.”

“Fine.” There was only one way to shut Izzy up when she got on something, and that was to give in. “I’m on my way.”

Cheryl closed down her computer, slipped into the Converse hi-tops under her desk, called to the housekeeper telling her she was going out, then glanced at herself in the hall mirror. Cut-offs and a tank top advertising the Santa Monica Pier. She pulled her hair out of the high-ponytail, and fluffed it a bit. It would have to do because she had no intention of changing. Izzy would have to take her as is.

She called Portia who was doing homework in her bedroom and told her she’d be back in an hour. She slid behind the wheel of her Mercedes, and lowered the roof inhaling the warm, dry air and the deep blue Vegas sky. Nothing like October in the desert.

Cheryl pushed through the rotating doors and entered the lobby of the Bellagio, savoring the scented air. A mix of fresh citrus, with a hint of roses. Amazing. She made her way throughthe throngs of people checking into the hotel and entered the casino bar easily picking out Izzy.

“This is what you’re wearing?” Izzy pointed an accusing finger at Cheryl’s outfit.

“Look around.” Cheryl circled her arms. “This is Vegas. The casino is filled with people barely dressed to others wearing their pajamas. Anything goes.” Truth. In L.A. she never would’ve gone to an upscale bar in this outfit, but in the desert city there were no rules.

“Fine.” Izzy gestured to the barstool next to her. “Sit.” Then she waved over the bartender. “What are you having?”

Cheryl fumbled with the drink menu. “I don’t want anything too strong.” Or the one least likely to give her a raging headache later. Her low tolerance for alcohol made drinking in the afternoon a very bad idea.

The bartender patiently waited for Cheryl’s decision until Izzy rolled her eyes and said, “Bring her a very dry Belvedere martini with three olives.”

Cheryl stared at Izzy. “So you order me the strongest drink on the menu?”

“Lighten up and loosen up.”

Cheryl furrowed her brow. “What’s gotten into you? The last time you tried to ply me with alcohol was when you and the girls threw my surprise thirtieth birthday party.”

“And you had a wonderful time.”

“Maybe, but I’m still not a fan of surprises and—” Cheryl cocked her head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Looking like what?”

“Like you’re either gonna tell me you won the lottery or the world is about to end.”

“Maybe a little of both.” Izzy forced a smile as she slipped off the barstool.

A second later, Cheryl’s mouth dropped open at the exact moment the bartender slid her martini in front of her. The same moment Nick took Izzy’s seat at the bar.

“Don’t kill me.” Izzy threw up her palms.

“It was all my idea,” Nick admitted. “I put her up to it.”

“And you, my dearest friend went along with it.”

“Maybe because I am your dearest friend and sometimes you don’t know what’s good for you.” Izzy motioned to the martini. “Now drink up and enjoy.”

11

Cheryl grabbed for the martini glass, spilled some of the overflowing liquor, then sipped from the side of the glass like it was a lifeline. Which could very well be true. How could Izzy do this to her? How could this be happening after all her years of keeping a low profile so this exact scenario never happened—and yet?

The bartender slid a cut glass of amber liquor in front of Nick. She hadn’t even heard him place his order. Probably because she was having another out of body experience and this wasn’t really happening.

“You can ignore me, but this really is happening.” Nick raised the glass to his lips.

Great. Now he was jumping into her brain.

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