“What’s going on here? It’s not a crime to be talking to your mom, but you’re acting really strange.”
He presses his lips together. “What did you hear?”
I raise my eyebrows, as though I were Jane dealing with one of her sixth graders… and then a thought hits me, and my gut explodes.
No.
It can’t be.
You need to be twenty-one to enter a casino in Vegas and both Daniel and Dave showed the guard their ID. I shake off the idea, but it won’t go away. I blurt out, “How old are you?”
He licks his lips. “Like Dave said. We’re seniors in college.”
Horror strikes me immediately. Anyone over the age of twenty-one would have told me his age, not that he’s a senior. My hand flies over my mouth. “Please tell me you’re at least eighteen. Please, Daniel.”
His leg shakes and I want to scream. Then I remember what Frankie said. “Oh, my God. I’ve got to stop her.”
“Wait!”
I keep running, but I hear him yell, “Dave is eighteen. He’s legal, don’t worry.”
I jam my finger against the elevator button and contemplate running up the twelve flights of stairs to get to Frankie sooner.
Turning toward the emergency exit, I sigh in relief when the elevator doors open. Unfortunately, a group of guests enter withme and choose two floors before mine. I don’t hide my groan or refrain from tapping my foot.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I run out into the hallway and toward our room. “Frankie,” I yell while pounding on the door. “Open up.”
It’s silent on the other side. “Frankie!” I shout and pound harder. “If you don’t open this door, I’m going to use my key and walk in.”
When there’s no answer, I shove my hand in my purse, reaching for the room key, but before I can use it, Frankie opens the door.
She’s wearing the same dress, but I spot Dave on the bed in only his shorts. I pray I’m not too late.
“Oh, God, Frankie,” I moan.
“What? What happened?”
“Did you? Did you…?” Seeing the confusion on her face, I regret my question. “It doesn’t matter. Dave needs to leave now.”
“Did something happen to Daniel?”
“Yeah, his mommy called.”
Her brow furrows. “What?”
I swallow, and inhale slowly before I say the rest. “Frankie, they’re just seniors.”
“I know.”
I close my eyes. “They’re seniors inhigh school.”
When I open them, Frankie’s face is frozen. “No. That can’t be. They wouldn’t be allowed inside the casino—”
“They must have fake IDs.”
A look of horror crosses her face and then she screams. “Oh, my God.” Turning around, she yells at Dave. “Is this true?” Dave scurries to put on his T-shirt.
“Are you a fucking teenager?” cries Frankie.
