The Pre-Nup (14 page)

Mara
Chapter
17

M
ara spent the majority of the sixty-five-minute flight from Phoenix to Las Vegas peering out the window at the dark expanse of desert and torturing herself with mental images of Josh entangled in Kama Sutra poses with various femmes fatales, each more wanton and limber than the last. She didn’t even realize she was tapping her fingernails against the metal plate on the seat divider until the passenger next to her finally spoke up.

“Excuse me.” The scrawny teenage girl in tight jeans and a vintage Ramones T-shirt fixed Mara with an exasperated stare. “Are you planning on doing that the entire trip?”

Mara blinked, dissipating a vision of a lingerie model unfastening her flimsy bra and using the straps to bind Josh’s wrists to wrought-iron bedposts. “Doing what?”

“That.” The girl pointed out Mara’s twitchy fingers.

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t even realize.” Mara turned back to the window.

Two minutes later, she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Ahem. You’re still doing it.”

“Well, a thousand apologies, but I’ve got a lot on my mind,” Mara snapped. She recommenced tapping, and threw in a little ankle-jiggling for good measure.

The teenager heaved a mighty sigh, then dug out her mp3 player and headphones and cranked up the volume. For the remainder of the flight, Mara’s sexed-up scenarios were set to a musical score of frenetic drumbeats and soaring guitar solos.

She dialed Josh’s cell phone the minute the plane touched down, but he still wasn’t answering. Fine. If he wanted to play hardball, she’d play hardball. She freaking
invented
hardball.

She reached into her bag and retrieved the contact information Jen had given her back at the airport.

“Hello?” Eric picked up on the third ring.

“Hi, it’s Mara Stroebel,” she said breezily. “I got your number from Jen—”

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, Jen’s fine, but…” Mara trailed off as she heard the rhythmic thump of pounding bass on the other end of the connection. “Where are you guys?”

He didn’t answer.

“Hello?” She frowned into her headset. “Eric?”

“Uh…” There was a lot of muffled rustling as he stalled for time. “What?”

“I asked where you were.” She grabbed her hastily packed valise and charged through the terminal.

“We’re, um, out,” Eric hedged. “Just having a few drinks.”

“Where, specifically?”

“Oh, you know, here and there. Garden-variety bachelor party stuff. Playing cards, smoking cigars…”

Mara sighed. “Which strip club?”

“Whoa, hey, no one said anything about strip clubs.”

“Look, I’m at the airport and I need to talk to Josh. Right now.”

“The Vegas airport?” He sounded appalled, and more than a little panicked. “You’re
here
?”

“Where is he?”

“Why are you in Vegas?”

“Stop stalling and put Josh on the phone.”

“I can’t do that right now.”

Her impatience snowballed into desperation. “Why not?”

“Hey, is it true you told him to hook up with someone else this weekend? Because I gotta tell you, that’s pretty—”

“Eric, as God is my witness…” She forced herself to stop and take a deep breath. “Okay. All right. I’m a reasonable woman. What do you say to a little information exchange? You help me, I help you.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded suspicious.

“I’ve got the latest dirt on Patrick Spillane. Interested?”

“No,” he said in a laughably unsuccessful imitation of disinterest.

“Fine. Then I guess you don’t want to hear about what happened between him and Jen this afternoon.”

“That’s right.”

“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t want to know either. You’re very wise to spare yourself the drama. Especially since I know every last detail, and I’m not known for pulling my punches. Anyway, nice talking to you.”

Eric caved. “All right, all right. We’re at the Black Diamond. It’s right around the corner from the Luxor.”

“Thank you,” Mara said sweetly. “And Josh is with you?”

“He just went back into the VIP area with the stripper who was talking to him all night.”

She forced a laugh. “But nothing happens in the VIP area, right?”

“Uh…”

“I mean, no one actually has
sex
in the VIP rooms, right? That’s only in the movies?” “Well…”

“Listen to me, Eric. You put your drink down right now and go get him.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” Eric said. “The bouncer back there looks pretty tough.”

“Damn it.” Mara balled up her fists and quickened her pace, darting through throngs of luggage-laden tourists. “I have to do everything myself.”

“So what happened this afternoon?” Eric prompted. “With Jen and Patrick?”

Mara made a guttural noise in the back of her throat. “Oops, I’m losing the connection.”

“Hey!”

She let her voice drop. “Can’t…hear…bad…bye!” She snapped her phone closed, dashed out the doors to the curb, and flagged down the first cab she saw. “I need to get to the Black Diamond,” she told the driver. “And step on it.”

The exterior of the Black Diamond didn’t look like the den of iniquity Mara had envisioned—no garish neon, no tattered posters advertising cut-rate peep shows, no frat boys urinating in the gutter. The club looked like any other upscale bar. There was even a valet stand staffed with uniformed attendants and a red velvet rope cordoning off the entrance from the sidewalk.

The interior was another story. Mara begrudgingly forked over the twenty-dollar cover charge the doorman demanded, then stepped into a dizzying display of strobe lights, mirrors, and sequins.

Breasts and blond hair. For a moment, that was all she could process. Tanned, toned women, most of them clad in G-strings that amounted to little more than two Post-its fastened together with rubber bands, writhed around a veritable forest of stripper poles. After her eyes adjusted to the dim house lights, Mara surveyed the groups of men gazing glassy-eyed up at the floor shows. Most of these guys wore suits or collared shirts and had plenty of crisp dollar bills to dole out. One or two glanced her way when she walked in unattended, but they quickly lost interest when it became apparent she wasn’t going to be gyrating out of her jeans anytime soon.

She spotted Eric at the bar, brooding over a beer, so she made her way over to him and yelled over the pounding rock ballad blaring through the speakers. “Hey!”

He whipped around, his expression startled and guilty.

“Where’s Josh?” she hollered directly into his ear.

He hollered back something that sounded like “This is the suckiest bachelor party ever.”

“Where’s Josh?”
she repeated.

He scowled and launched into a rant, the only words of which she could make out were “Patrick Spillane.”

“Oh my God, I don’t have time for this. Where’s Josh?”

Eric didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Mara watched a tall, leggy stripper entice a customer up from a lap dance and lead him back to a black velvet curtain in the corner.

She charged after them, threw back the curtain—and found herself up against a stony-faced Goliath in a tight black T-shirt.

He crossed his arms and blocked her path. “This area is restricted.”

She tried to hold her ground as his massive head loomed over hers. “VIP rooms, right?”

“That’s right. I’m going to have to ask you to step back.”

“But my fiancé is back there!”

“Then I’m definitely going to have to ask you to step back.”

“But I need to see him!” Mara pleaded. “Right now! He…I…Before he does something we’ll both regret!”

“Only paying customers are allowed past this point.” Goliath shuffled forward, forcing her back into the main room.

“I understand, but—”

“House rules, no exceptions.” He wedged one bulging biceps against the door frame. “Paying customers only.”

“Fine. Be that way.” Mara turned and raced over to the nearest mini-stage, where a petite brunette was finishing up her set.

Mara cleared her throat. “Um, miss? How much for you to go back to a VIP room?”

The dancer adjusted the strap of her bejeweled red thong and tilted her head. “With you?”

All the men within earshot were suddenly paying rapt attention. Mara lifted her chin and tried to look non chalant.

The dancer pursed her glossy lips. “Two hundred.”

“
Dollars?
Why don’t you just rob me at gunpoint?”

“That’s the going rate.” The woman rolled her shoulders and jiggled her ample breasts. “Don’t worry; I’m worth it.”

Mara glanced away from the frontal nudity toward the black velvet curtains separating her from Josh. “Is there any way I can get a discount if I don’t want you to dance?”

“You don’t want a dance?” The stripper narrowed her eyes. “Then what exactly do you expect me to do back there?”

“Oh, forget it. Here.” Mara opened her wallet and counted out a stack of twenties. The testosterone-charged crowd grunted their approval as the brunette took Mara by the hand and sashayed back toward the curtains.

When they passed through, the dancer nodded to the bouncer, who melted away into the shadows.

“Here we are.” The dancer led the way down a narrow, mirrored hallway, then drew back another set of curtains. She smiled and winked. “Ladies first.”

Mara stepped through the doorway into a sumptuous, gold-trimmed Vegas version of a Moroccan oasis. A bar lined one wall, and the rest of the room was comprised of private, fabric-draped cabanas that could be closed off for privacy. The atmosphere in here was much more intimate than the aggressive exhibitionism out on the main floor. The music was softer, the air warmer, the lights dimmer.

The dancer nodded toward the bar. “Care for a drink?”

“No, I’m good.” Mara edged closer to the nearest cabana and tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside. She could hear female giggling and what sounded like male moaning. But not Josh. She knew Josh’s sex noises.

“Naughty, naughty,” the dancer trilled, steering her toward an open cabana on the far wall. “No peeking.”

Mara dug in her heels and fumbled for an excuse. “I, uh, have to use the ladies’ room.”

The dancer tapped one five-inch Lucite platform stiletto and gave her a shrewd once-over. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just really have to—”

“Listen, honey, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but Black Diamond girls are class acts. If you try anything kinky, I’ll get you tossed out of here so fast. I don’t care how much money you throw at me.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.” Mara’s ears pricked up as the sound system paused between songs. Amid all the clinking glass and rustling fabric and creaking leather, she thought she heard the low undertones of Josh’s voice.

She dashed over to the corner cabana and, before her diminutive escort could intervene, ripped aside the gauzy gold veils. “Aha!”

Josh was cozied up on an overstuffed velvet banquette with a bottle of champagne, a silver platter of strawberries, and the most beautiful woman Mara had ever seen in real life.

Not to mention the most buxom.

Not to mention completely nude except for a handful of silver sequins strategically scattered across her pubic bone.

Now Mara knew how Ellie had felt while comparing herself to the infamous Vixen_MD. The woman currently hanging off her fiancé was the flesh-and-blood nightmare of every bride-to-be who sent her fiancé off to Vegas for one last hurrah: flowing hair the color of freshly burnished copper, huge doe eyes, and abs so toned they almost looked airbrushed. Her skin was flawless and deeply tanned, save a tiny patch of white in the shape of a flower near her hip, where she had obviously placed a decorative decal while tanning.

Mara had braced herself for any number of sordid scenarios. Bumping, grinding, possibly even a blow job; she had, after all, basically dared Josh to do it. What she was not prepared for was the sight of this flame-haired hussy gazing soulfully into her man’s eyes…and her man gazing soulfully right back.