Ruckus (Sinners of Saint #2)(14)

"You don't, but I do. Anyway, he is trying to get me to go with him to Todos Santos on Friday instead of a Saturday. I don't want to." I munched on my lower lip, thinking about Mama and Daddy. I haven't told Elle about my conversation with Dean. She was away all week, visiting her parents in Nebraska. The last thing I wanted was to dump my personal crap on her and ruin her vacation.

"Screw that, hell no." Elle waved her forefinger around, her hazel eyes skimming over two young, male customers who walked into the café, foolishly expecting her attention. "Your parents are a drag, and your mom is always on your case. Also, they still don't know you've broken up with Darren, right?"

Right.

On top of my parents, I would have to hang out with Vicious and Dean, two of my least-favorite people. The week was definitely going to be challenging. I changed the subject, bypassing the self-pity fest I was tempted to throw for myself.

"By the way, I need to change my plan for my sister's bachelorette party. My new one needs to be crazy with a touch of glitter." I unscrewed one of the jars of chocolate chip cookies that lined the counter behind us, taking two and shoving them into my mouth. "Any suggestions?"

Don't say Vegas, don't say Vegas, don't say Vegas, I inwardly prayed.

"Two words: Las Vegas." She drew an imaginary flashing sign in the air. "Do the Sin City Tour-de-Trash. Male strippers. Booze. A Britney Spears gig. All the guilty pleasures you can pack in, basically."

I groaned, throwing my head to the counter with a thud.

Money wasn't an issue. If I told Vicious, he would shell out whatever sum I needed to make it happen. Even though time in Vegas meant less time with Mama and more time with Millie, it was still not my thing.

"Any other ideas?" I quirked an eyebrow. Elle had a better chance luring me into a cave full of starving vampires than getting me to consciously spend time in the same Vegas strip with The HotHoles of Todos Santos, AKA the groom's best friends. Especially Dean Cole. His constant advances and sexual innuendos grated on my nerves.

"Honestly, Vegas is your best shot, chica. Otherwise, you can go the usual route. Do a dildo-themed party-which you don't want to do anymore because it's lame-or a weekend in Cabo. Now, now, no more carbs for the bridesmaid." She placed a hand over the jar lid when I went for another cookie, shaking her head. "And remember-you can't be an Annie."



       
         
       
        

"An Annie?" I frowned.

"Yeah. You know, from Bridesmaids. Don't let any of Millie's other bridesmaids outshine you. That shit'll haunt you for life."

Somehow, I doubted that. Millie didn't have many friends. I was her only bridesmaid. Her expectations were terribly low to begin with, thank God.

"I appreciate the tip," I snorted.

"Don't mention it." She wiggled her bony shoulders. "Seriously, don't. To anyone. I swore off rom-coms when I was sixteen as a part of a bet. I think it's still going. But I broke it like once or a thousand times."

I laughed, because with Elle, you couldn't not laugh.

"Seriously, though, Rosie. Vegas would be perfect. Don't think about what you want-think about Millie. It's her week. And that's true about your hot neighbor's invitation to arrive earlier in Todos Santos, too."

I hated it when Elle was right.

Glancing at the time on my cell phone, I had to walk my neighbor's dog in half an hour, and the subway was always packed that time of the year with enough tourists to populate a medium-sized country. I tipped my chin down. "Wine and sushi tonight?"

"Sashimi for me. I'm skinny-bitching this summer." She ran her hands down her body, tracing non-existent curves before giving me the thumbs-up. Then she paused, frowning. "Hey, who are you going to invite to this bachelorette party, anyway? Your sister is not exactly a social butterfly."

That was an understatement if I ever heard one. Other than her high school friend, Sydney, who stayed in Todos Santos, and a random older chick she met in L.A. called Gladys, who helped her set up her gallery, she didn't really hang out with anyone. I shook my head, busying myself by rearranging coffee mugs on the counter.

"Shamelessly milking an invitation. What has the world come to?"

"Hey, lady, if you don't care for our world, you're welcome to move to another planet. And on that note," Elle fist-pumped the air once, "we're going to Vegas! High-five?"

"High-five and a thumbs-up? No, thanks, I think I've had a healthy dose of lame today," I teased.

"Is your sexy neighbor going to be there, too? Vegas, I mean. He seems like the type to throw a crazy-ass party."