Nothing to Hide

NINE

NINE

A chauffeur driven car taxied them around LA, from hotel to hotel, then to the private plane.

Massive. The plane was absolutely massive. Her wonderings about what a man needed such a large plane for were answered after boarding, when she and her girls walked into what could only be described as a nightclub. With a bar, lights and music, it was far from traveling coach.

At their request, Astrid activated the music and lights at a touch panel on the wall. The trio of roommates enjoyed an impromptu party until the captain announced they were making their descent. Damn the flight for being so short.

Despite the notice, Jane continued tidying up at the bar.

Toria paid more heed and dropped into a curved seat in the corner. “I’m buzzed,” she said, putting her heels on. “Think the clubs are open now?”

“It’s Vegas,” Roxie said, poking at the touchscreen on the wall. She’d worked out how to turn the music down, but nothing would go off. “Why are there so many buttons?”

“Roxie?”

Astrid? She whirled around in the direction of her name. Yes, it was the assistant, she was by the door to the next section.

“I don’t know how to work anything,” Roxie said, hoping her haphazard button pushing wasn’t impacting anything else on the plane.

“You have to put on seatbelts,” Astrid said.

“Oh no,” Jane said, rushing around the bar to jump into the closest seat. “We’re sorry.”

Toria was already sitting, safety belt secure. “Can we go clubbing like straight away?”

“Uh, I don’t—”

“We have to find a hotel,” Jane said. “We need somewhere to sleep tonight.”

“We’ll crash in Roxie’s room,” Toria said. “Raid her minibar…”

“Better to stop at a liquor store,” Roxie said. “Minibar prices are insane.”

Toria didn’t seem to be listening. “Oh, Astrid, can we be put on the list for Crimson? I’ve always wanted to go to Crimson, Vegas. Getting on the list is impossible for a mere mortal.”

“No!” Roxie exclaimed. “You remember what happened last time we tried to go to a Crimson club? No! I don’t want to get arrested again. I can still smell jail in my hair; I wasn’t made for a life of crime and no conditioner.”

“Zairn took care of that,” Toria said. “And this time he can put us on the list. Ergo… no riot.”

“I wish you could meet him,” Jane said. “I can’t believe you haven’t.”

That was what she’d said online. It wasn’t true anymore; she and Astrid shared furtive eye contact. For some reason, rather than confess what had happened the previous night, she kept quiet.

“Is he on the plane?” Toria asked. “Maybe we could talk to him as we get off.” She laughed. “I sure would if he was around.”

Guilt chewed at her conscience. Her girls were her confidantes. They talked about guys, friends and lovers, all the time. But, this time, if she confessed, her friends would ask questions that she didn’t want to answer. They’d give her messages to pass along or request an introduction.

“Seatbelts,” Roxie said, diverting the conversation. Sitting down, she fastened the safety belt. “Gotta be safe.”

“I’ll talk to Mr. Lomond,” Astrid said. “If he agrees to put you on the list, I’ll text and let you know, Roxie.”

As the young assistant began to turn, Toria hollered, “I’d trade lives with you in a second!” Astrid left and closed the door again. “You know a part of me hates her guts.”

Jane laughed. Toria was joking… sort of.

Roxie’s conundrum kept her quiet. Lomond wasn’t her friend; she didn’t owe him anything. But her instinct had been to protect. Not him, their time. His life belonged to the masses. A few hours of privacy seemed like the least he was owed. She didn’t need to account for every minute; the world could live in wonder.