Nico’s sluggish eyelids opened and immediately slammed shut. The glaring Vegas sun hit hard. She shielded her eyes with one hand and felt around her bed with the other.
“Is this what you’re looking for?”
It took her a moment, but finally her eyes were able to remain open beyond a couple seconds and she could make out Charles, his spiky blonde hair and pale blue eyes looming over her, twirling her eye mask with one hand and a platinum-blonde wig with the other.
“Give it to me,” she demanded.
“What?” He held up the mask and then the wig. “This? Or this?”
She tried to snatch the mask, but he pulled away and placed both items on the dresser.
When he turned back around, he held up a wad of cash and narrowed his eyes. “Or perhaps you mean this.”
“Charles!” Nico cried, sitting up.
That was a mistake, she thought, feeling queasy.
He handed her a glass of green liquid. “Drink this.”
“It looks like a specimen you collected in a swamp. Either that or a toxic waste dump. What’s in it?”
Charles said nothing as he crossed his lean, muscular arms, showing off his sculpted shoulders.
Nico sniffed and pulled back. She had only one free hand, and she couldn’t decide whether to clutch her head or her stomach.
“Come on, Charlemagne. What’s in it?”
“Calling me by my birth name changes nothing,” he scoffed. “Just drink it already.”
She looked up sulkily at her roommate and best friend.
They’d first met at Drink and Dive when Charles rescued her from an angry guy who suspected Nico had conned him. She had.
That had been a first for Nico. Not the con but the rescue. No one had ever jumped in to help her in the past. But Charles did and he did it brilliantly. He suddenly appeared like that angel Clarence fromIt’s a Wonderful Lifeand put on an Oscar-worthy performance of someone on the brink of vomiting. He looked just about to do so all over the man’s shirt. The man and anyone standing within a six-foot radius backed away and were so stunned, it gave Nico and Charles the chance to escape.
It didn’t take long before they’d decided to pool their resources—his from dealing cards and hers from low-level racing, poker, and pool—and share an apartment just off the Strip.
Best friend? Charles was her only friend. He knew everything about her past and still loved her.
Nico sighed, staring at the murky liquid. Charles’s morning-after remedies always worked. And right now, she couldn’t decide whether or not that was a good thing.
She knew she should drink it. Knew she would drink it. But that didn’t stop her from not wanting to drink it.
Nico shut her eyes and held her nose. “Ugh,” she groaned, after downing half the glass.
“So, tell me what happened? Start with how it is you got this.” Charles held up the wad of cash. “As if I don’t already know.”
“Well, if you already know, then you don’t need me to tell you.”
“I still want details.”
Nico made a move to lie back down, but Charles stopped her.
“Uh-uh. Not a good idea.” He propped two big pillows behind her. “Sit up and drink the rest of it. Trust me. You’ll feel better. When do you have to be there?”
“What time is it?”
“Eight a.m.”
