walking wounded.”
“But I don’t want to bring you down. You earned this trip, you should get to do what you want.”
“I’ll get in whatever questionable activity I want to. Don’t worry about me. I just want to make sure you leave Sunday night feeling better than you do when you land Friday afternoon.”
So Rachel then admitted that she’d much rather hole up in the hotel room and watch movies and eat room service than go out and party. And Daphne, bless her, had agreed. But now that she saw the city up close, Rachel was beginning to think she may have spoken too soon.
A black-suited man in the baggage claim area held a small sign with her name scrawled across it. She wheeled her carry-on to him and pointed at the card. “That’s me.”
He nodded and tucked the sign under his arm, then reached for her bag. “How many pieces of luggage do you have?”
“Just this.”
He nodded again. “Follow me, please.”
He led her through the sliding doors to the curbside area where the desert heat hit her like a punch. She followed him down the sidewalk, trailing like a lost puppy, feeling purposeless without her bag to hold on to. When he stopped next to a sleek black stretch limo, she let out a laugh.
Daphne was nestled in the corner with a glass of champagne in one hand and a crustless quarter of a sandwich in the other. “ Bonjour, ma chéri e !”
Rachel slid in beside her and was enveloped in a fierce hug. “Mighty fancy taxi service.”
Daphne waved the sandwich-holding hand like a queen greeting her subjects. “Taxi, schmaxy. My Rachel deserves only the best.” She opened a small door, revealing a mini-fridge. “Help yourself—it’s all stocked.”
“I haven’t eaten much this week,” Rachel admitted before diving into a sandwich. The car slid into the light as they pulled out from under the pick-up canopy, and Rachel settled back in her seat to watch the scenery of Las Vegas roll by as she ate.
Daphne nodded, a look of wisdom on her face. “Ah, yes, the post break-up/splitting-parents/druggie-friend blues often takes away one’s appetite.” She popped the remainder of her own sandwich into her mouth and finished off her drink. “So, we still doing the girls-night-in thing tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said through a mouthful of sandwich. “I didn’t think I’d want to do anything, but now I realize I’m in Las Vegas and I’d be crazy not to go out and do something.”
Daphne pumped a fist in the air. “Yes! Oh good. I thought it would do you good to cut loose for a little while.”
“Cut loose? I was just thinking, you know, shop at Caesars, blow some money on the slots, maybe take in a show. What were you thinking?”
Then Rachel saw the glint in Daphne’s eye and knew she wouldn’t be in bed before at least one in the morning. “Well, that depends,” Daphne said. “Does your luggage contain anything sparkly, satiny, velvety, form-fitting, and/or low-cut?”
Rachel smirked. “Do you really need to ask?”
Daphne grinned. “I didn’t think so.” She leaned forward and addressed the driver. “Excuse me, is there a mall nearby?”
“Yes ma’am, the Fashion Show.”
Rachel laughed. “That’s the name of the mall?”
Daphne winked. “This is Vegas, baby,” she said. Then, to the driver, “We’re going to take a detour.”
o
Shopping with Daphne was always an experience. Never did they wander without purpose between the racks, running their hands along rows of garments and occasionally checking a tag but never trying things on. No, Daphne considered every item, every style, even if it didn’t appeal to her at first glance. Her passion for clothes was obvious in her everyday dress, whereas Rachel was the poster child for conservative comfy-casual. But now, facing a fresh start in her life, Rachel was game for taking a few chances on her wardrobe. How lucky that her best friend was a professional personal shopper.
Daphne slurped her blended
“But I don’t want to bring you down. You earned this trip, you should get to do what you want.”
“I’ll get in whatever questionable activity I want to. Don’t worry about me. I just want to make sure you leave Sunday night feeling better than you do when you land Friday afternoon.”
So Rachel then admitted that she’d much rather hole up in the hotel room and watch movies and eat room service than go out and party. And Daphne, bless her, had agreed. But now that she saw the city up close, Rachel was beginning to think she may have spoken too soon.
A black-suited man in the baggage claim area held a small sign with her name scrawled across it. She wheeled her carry-on to him and pointed at the card. “That’s me.”
He nodded and tucked the sign under his arm, then reached for her bag. “How many pieces of luggage do you have?”
“Just this.”
He nodded again. “Follow me, please.”
He led her through the sliding doors to the curbside area where the desert heat hit her like a punch. She followed him down the sidewalk, trailing like a lost puppy, feeling purposeless without her bag to hold on to. When he stopped next to a sleek black stretch limo, she let out a laugh.
Daphne was nestled in the corner with a glass of champagne in one hand and a crustless quarter of a sandwich in the other. “ Bonjour, ma chéri e !”
Rachel slid in beside her and was enveloped in a fierce hug. “Mighty fancy taxi service.”
Daphne waved the sandwich-holding hand like a queen greeting her subjects. “Taxi, schmaxy. My Rachel deserves only the best.” She opened a small door, revealing a mini-fridge. “Help yourself—it’s all stocked.”
“I haven’t eaten much this week,” Rachel admitted before diving into a sandwich. The car slid into the light as they pulled out from under the pick-up canopy, and Rachel settled back in her seat to watch the scenery of Las Vegas roll by as she ate.
Daphne nodded, a look of wisdom on her face. “Ah, yes, the post break-up/splitting-parents/druggie-friend blues often takes away one’s appetite.” She popped the remainder of her own sandwich into her mouth and finished off her drink. “So, we still doing the girls-night-in thing tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said through a mouthful of sandwich. “I didn’t think I’d want to do anything, but now I realize I’m in Las Vegas and I’d be crazy not to go out and do something.”
Daphne pumped a fist in the air. “Yes! Oh good. I thought it would do you good to cut loose for a little while.”
“Cut loose? I was just thinking, you know, shop at Caesars, blow some money on the slots, maybe take in a show. What were you thinking?”
Then Rachel saw the glint in Daphne’s eye and knew she wouldn’t be in bed before at least one in the morning. “Well, that depends,” Daphne said. “Does your luggage contain anything sparkly, satiny, velvety, form-fitting, and/or low-cut?”
Rachel smirked. “Do you really need to ask?”
Daphne grinned. “I didn’t think so.” She leaned forward and addressed the driver. “Excuse me, is there a mall nearby?”
“Yes ma’am, the Fashion Show.”
Rachel laughed. “That’s the name of the mall?”
Daphne winked. “This is Vegas, baby,” she said. Then, to the driver, “We’re going to take a detour.”
o
Shopping with Daphne was always an experience. Never did they wander without purpose between the racks, running their hands along rows of garments and occasionally checking a tag but never trying things on. No, Daphne considered every item, every style, even if it didn’t appeal to her at first glance. Her passion for clothes was obvious in her everyday dress, whereas Rachel was the poster child for conservative comfy-casual. But now, facing a fresh start in her life, Rachel was game for taking a few chances on her wardrobe. How lucky that her best friend was a professional personal shopper.
Daphne slurped her blended
Similar Books
