JACK: Las Vegas Bad Boys(25)
“Really? A personal chef?” I try not to act surprised—but, damn, this class divide is seriously growing each day.
Emmy shrugs. “Ace has been all wrapped up in the launch of Hearts Royalle, and now that it’s officially been open for a month, Ricky was my present. To myself.”
“Rewards,” I say, using our term for basically any sort of treat we give ourselves for getting through the day.
And while I usually reward myself with, say, a Frappuccino after a long shift on the casino floor, Emmy has upgraded to a 24/7 cook.
“Right?” She smiles, and we follow her into the sleek kitchen, where a man in his forties is dicing onions, wearing an apron. He waves at us with his knife as Emmy keeps talking. “So, tell me the truth, why did you two come here to eat, anyways?”
“We had a sleepover at my place,” I tell her nonchalantly, noticing that Jack is typing on his phone and not really paying attention. “And I had no food for breakfast. We came here to have brunch but we realized that us together in public was a stupid idea. And, besides all that, I’m legit hangry.”
“The struggle is real,” Ricky says, smiling as he adds bacon to the griddle. “Any allergies?”
“None. Well, none for me. I don’t know about him.” I point to Jack, who briefly looks up from his phone and shakes his head.
“Anyways, there was a whole thing with the press yesterday and it freaked me out a bit—”
Jack looks up from his phone. “A bit?” His tone is sharp, but I shake it off and keep talking.
“So I was freaked out; that’s why I want to avoid the cameras. I just don’t want the attention.”
Jack snorts. “She doesn’t know, Tess? About why you’re in Vegas?”
Emmy looks us over, as if attempting to discern what the problem is.
But the problem is pretty damn clear. Apparently Jack has no qualms with calling me out on the carpet.
And I have the sinking realization that perhaps jumping into Emmy’s penthouse was, like, the worst idea ever. Instead of having a morning quickie on our way here, maybe we should have talked about safe words and off-limit topics.
“Why are you being like this?” I hiss at him.
He shakes his head slowly. “This is such bullshit.”
Ace walks into the kitchen, fist-bumps Jack, and then greets Emmy and me with a kiss on each of our cheeks, unaware of the tension between Jack and me.
“So, what’s up, motherfuckers?” he asks, punching a few buttons on a very complicated-looking espresso machine. “Cappuccino?”
“Yes, please,” I say, as Ricky cracks a few eggs and begins to scramble them.
“So you two came over together?” Ace asks.
“Yeah,” Jack says shortly, sliding his phone in his pocket. “But I’m actually in yesterday’s clothes and should really go take care of a few things. You good here, Tess?” he asks me with a distant look in his eye.
“I guess.” I shake my head, hating the way he’s decided to back off.
“Okay,” he says, nodding at me. “Then I’ll see you around. Oh, can someone take Tess home?”
“I’ll see you later, then?” I ask, but as I do, I realize that if this is his passive-aggressive way of getting back at me for not telling Emmy my entire backstory, then I really don’t care if he calls or if I see him again or if this really is the end.
Of whatever the hell we are.
“Sure, Tess,” he says flatly. “Why don’t you give me a call if you want to see me.”
He leaves the way he came, and once he’s gone Emmy and Ace look at me, eyes bugging out.
“So that just happened,” Emmy says, grimacing.
“Fucking asshole,” Ace says. “I told him not to hurt you.”
“Yeah,” Emmy says, eyebrows raised. “Sounds like he really listened.”
“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Ace says, before following Jack out the door.
I look away, because the tears in my eyes betray everything I’m feeling. “I feel so stupid,” I say, biting back a sob.
“Shush, that’s crazy talk. Come to the living room, eat your eggs, and tell me everything.”
Sitting on the couch, I hold the plate of eggs and bacon in my hands. I can’t talk yet; I need to eat, and think of what exactly I’m going to say to Emmy.
As I’m polishing off a third slice of bacon I hear the front door open.
“Hey, girls,” Claire says, and comes in with JoJo in tow.
“You got here fast,” Emmy says. “Sit. You want mimosas? Ricky just brought the stuff out.”
The coffee table has champagne and OJ ready for us. I didn’t even notice.