Claire and Tess are sprawled out in my bed. They fell asleep there last night while I was in the shower and I didn't have the heart to wake them.
Now I pull open the blinds, squinting in the afternoon sun. Walking a few steps into the kitchen, I begin making a pot of coffee.
As it brews, I turn on my phone and see I've missed several calls and texts.
Text 1: This is Denise, Ace Royalle's personal assistant. We met yesterday at the buffet. Please call back ASAP.
Text 2: Hello, Denise again. Please return message.
Then there are three voice mails saying the same sort of thing.
The final voicemail, however, is a bit more worrisome: This is Denise, calling on behalf of Ace Royalle. Shall I have someone come to your listed address to check on you?
I so do not want anyone connected with Ace showing up here.
Claire and Tess inch out of my bedroom, both wearing tee-shirts of mine.
“Must. Have. Coffee,” Claire mutters as she does a zombie walk toward the pot. Pouring herself a cup, she literally guzzles it.
“Did you just burn your throat?” Tess asks warily.
“It was totally worth it.” Claire smiles a bit manically, as if the caffeine has already shot through her blood stream.
“You are so weird,” I say, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and adding it to my own steaming mug.
“I'm not the weird one,” Claire says. “You, sweetie, are the one who screwed the most eligible bachelor in Vegas, then ran out all tears and confusion and cried yourself to sleep. Without explaining anything.”
“True.” I sigh, feeling defeated. “Look, I just don't want you to judge me. And, now that I know the truth about Ace, what I actually need to do is go speak with my detective.”
“The detective on your sister’s case?” Tess asks, scrunching up her nose. “What does he have to do with Ace?”
“I think Ace was driving the car the night of the accident.”
“No shit!” Claire gasps, nearly spitting out her coffee.
“I know. It is fifty shades of crazy.” I explain the conversation with the detective from the day before, and then fill them in on what Grotto said last night.
“Wow. I guess it makes sense now why you freaked out,” Claire says.
“Yeah, and here I was thinking you got all weird because Ace was bad in bed,” Tess adds.
“Well, they technically didn't screw in a bed—they were in a hallway at the club or something, right, Emmy?”
Oh. My friends weren't privy to my previous evening’s post-poker game sex-capades.
“We actually hooked up after the poker game—”
“I knew it!” Tess shrieks.
Claire shoots Tess dagger-eyes. “No screeching this early in the morning.”
“It's not the morning anymore,” I say. “Also, there's nothing to get hyper about. Ace is a creep, remember? What kind of man leaves a woman alone after a car crash? He's a monster.”
“You may be jumping to conclusions,” Tess says. “I mean you don't have actual proof.”
“Are you seriously defending him right now?” I ask. “Because tell me, Tess, how many people have you ever met who go by the name Bullet?”
“None, I guess. I just. I don't know … he seemed so nice. So generous.”
“You just like the fact that I hooked up with a guy who is loaded and comes with a fancy entourage.”
“Let's not get catty, ladies,” Claire says, pouring herself another cup of joe. “Look, Emmy, no judgment, but did you actually like Ace, or was it just sex?”
I feel the burn on my cheeks with that question. The reason it hurt so bad to hear him called Bullet last night was because I actually did like him. But more than that … because like sounds flat and feel superficial.
Ace and I had a connection that was real. I just wish I could have explored that more … really gotten to know him before the carpet got pulled out from under me.
“I … he … it was….” I can't finish my sentence, because I don't want to feel the way I feel. So completely torn.
It doesn't matter what I felt before I learned the truth. Now I can't go back. If I do, what does that make me? A monster too?
“Okay then….” Claire pulls her words out exaggeratedly. “But honey, the fact that you can’t answer says something. Maybe you should get the facts straight before you dismiss him all together. Maybe he isn't what you think. Maybe he’s what you need.”
Just then my doorbell rings.
“Who's that? I don't know anyone in Vegas besides you two.”
Tess heads to the door and looks through the peephole.
“Oh, shit,” she says pulling back and looking at me with shock written on her face.