Best She Ever Had (9781617733963) (12 page)

He held Jared's phone aloft, showing it to her. “No, but I found this. It's Jared's.”

Cynthia grabbed the phone out of his hand. She glared at it. “So they
were
here?”

He nodded as her face fell.

“But if we have his phone, how the hell are we going to use the tracking app?”

Korey released a long, slow breath. “We can't.”

“So how are we going to find them, Korey?” she cried.

“We'll find them.” He tried, but he didn't sound very convincing. He was starting to lose hope himself, but he didn't want to reveal that to Cynthia. She looked like she was near tears. “We just . . . we just have to find a different way to do it.”

“And that would be . . .”

“I have no clue,” he answered honestly.

She dropped her face into her hands.

“Come on,” he muttered, steering her to the restaurant door and rubbing her shoulders consolingly. He kneaded the knots in her muscles and she moaned. He instantly pulled his hands away, not liking the sound of that. It reminded him too much of other moments long ago when Cynthia had moaned like that, and he didn't need those carnal images in his head right now.

“Let's head back to the hotel and get some sleep,” he said. “We'll try again in the morning.”

C
ynthia opened her eyes in the darkened hotel room that she had checked into only nine hours ago and stared at the glowing orange numbers of the alarm clock on her night table, feeling more exhausted now than she had when she laid her head on her pillow to sleep.

Damn, its eleven o'clock already,
she thought. The day was already almost half over!

She turned, rolled onto her back, and stared at the faux fresco relief on her ceiling.

It was hard to believe that little more than twenty-four hours ago she had been making bacon and eggs in her own kitchen back in Chesterton, Virginia, preparing herself to have a heart-to-heart with her daughter. Now she was thousands of miles away in some ancient Rome–themed Las Vegas hotel suite, and she had absolutely no idea where the hell Clarissa could be. Had her daughter found another chapel and married Jared after all? Was she still at the hotel now? Was she even still in Vegas?

Cynthia grumbled as she threw an arm over her tired eyes.

She was no closer to finding her daughter, stopping the wedding, and averting disaster than she had been when her flight touched down at McCarran International last night. She and Korey still didn't know the kids' room number at the hotel, and now that Jared had lost his cell phone, they couldn't use the software to track him that way either. But there
had
to be a way to find Clarissa and Jared, short of wandering up and down the Strip, shouting their names. There had to be a way to avoid Clarissa marrying her brother!

“You still don't know for sure if he
is
her brother,” a voice in Cynthia's head countered.

No, she didn't. But as long as she allowed herself to consider the possibility, she felt a sense of urgency. It was the kick in the ass that told her she couldn't give up.

Suddenly, an idea came to mind. Cynthia lowered her arm from her face and opened her eyes.

Almost frantic, she turned onto her stomach and reached for the night table, knocking a notepad to the floor and tipping over a glass. Water dribbled onto the plush carpet. She grabbed her cell phone and accessed the Internet.

Keith had figured out the kids were heading to Las Vegas after checking Cynthia's credit card charges. Maybe she could use that same credit card information to figure out where the kids were now or what the kids would do next. Maybe they had charged a meal at a restaurant or tickets to a dinner show.
Who knows?

She typed in the password for her credit card account and went to the Web page that listed current and pending charges. She scanned the screen. Then she found it—a new charge! She typed in the name of the vendor in Google and squinted when she saw the service they provided. The Web site showed a photo of a grinning couple on a romantic gondola ride.

“A gondola?” she whispered, then shrugged.

Well, it looks like Korey and I are about to take a boat ride
, she thought before dialing Korey's cell phone number.

“Hello?” he answered; he sounded out of breath, making her frown.

“Why the hell are you breathing so hard?”

“I'm at the gym!” he shouted over the sound of thumping feet. “I'm on the treadmill. What's up?”

He was at the gym, huh? She had never envisioned Korey as a gym rat. Working out certainly hadn't been high on his list of things to do in high school, but she supposed his muscular physique would be all dough by now if he didn't step into a gym every once in a while.

“I think I know where the kids are headed,” she said.

The sound of thumping feet slowed. “Okay, I'm listening.”

“They're going to take a gondola ride.”

“What the hell's a gondola ride?”

“Come on, you know what a gondola is!” She slung her legs over the side of the bed and climbed to her feet. “You know . . . those little banana-shaped boats on canals.”

“Oh, okay, I got you now.” He was still huffing. She guessed he was still on the treadmill.

“Anyway, the Venetian offers gondola rides, and it looks like the kids bought one for eighty bucks. If we head there, we might catch them.” She raced into her bathroom and turned on the lights, squinting at the sudden brightness. She grabbed the makeup bag on the granite counter and tucked her cell phone underneath her chin as she fished out her toothbrush. “I'm getting ready now so we can—”

“So we're just supposed to stand on a dock all day
hoping
that we run into Jared and Clarissa. That's the big plan? What if the boats leave from more than one dock?”

Cynthia had turned on the faucet and just started to brush her teeth. When Korey posed his question, she stopped.

“Shit,” she garbled, spitting frothy mint toothpaste onto the bathroom mirror.

Why did Korey have to keep pointing out the gaping holes in her plans?

“Do we at least know the time of their gondola ride?” he asked.

There he goes again with those questions,
she thought, now annoyed. They were very practical and logical questions.
Damn him!

She wiped the toothpaste away from her mouth with a washcloth. “No, we don't,” she answered softly.

She heard him sigh gruffly on the other end. Her annoyance quickly morphed into anger.

“Hey, don't knock it if you can't come up with a better idea!”

“You're right. I apologize. At least it's a start, I guess.” The thumping sound finally ceased. She supposed he had finished his run. “Look, how about we do this? How about we think about this a bit more and meet for lunch at the buffet downstairs? We'll talk it over and figure out what to do next. I'll meet you there at noon, okay?”

“See you at noon.” She then hung up and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, feeling a lot less excited now than she had when she'd made her online discovery.

“It's not the end of the world,” the voice in her head reassured. “Maybe you guys can still use the info.”

Cynthia grabbed her toothbrush and started to brush her teeth again. The odds weren't in their favor, but she wouldn't give up. She couldn't.

 

Cynthia arrived at the restaurant a little before noon and was gobsmacked by how massive it was. It was like someone took about a dozen small-town buffets and decided to dump them all into one place, except the space wasn't filled with cheap Formica tabletops and seating booths covered in plastic and pleather. Instead, there were glass chandeliers, coffered ceilings, ice sculptures, and expensive artwork. The buffet stations weren't what she was used to seeing either. They didn't feature runny eggs, congealed chicken and mushroom casserole, and biscuits that had hardened under heat lamps. Instead, she saw snow crab legs, Kobe beef, rack of lamb, and caviar.

Cynthia wandered around the restaurant, zigzagging through tables in search of Korey. After ten minutes, she still hadn't found him. The room was teeming with people and seemed to be the size of a high school gym, making her wonder how she was going to find Korey in all this mess. She'd have better luck finding him at a football stadium.

Cynthia threw up her hands in defeat. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed his number.

“Korey, where the hell are you?” she snapped when he finally picked up.

“Over by the soup station.”

She rolled her eyes and hung up. A few minutes later, she found him sitting at a table near a topiary display. A smiling Asian woman with tanned skinned, high cheekbones, and big boobs was sitting at the table with him. When Cynthia saw her, she frowned.

Korey and the woman were huddled so close that it looked like the woman was whispering in his ear. She said something, making him burst into laughter. The couple was so engrossed with their conversation that Korey didn't seem to notice Cynthia walking toward them. She loudly cleared her throat, making Korey finally look up at her.

“Oh, hey, Cindy,” he greeted, the smile never leaving his face. “Guess you finally found me.”

“Guess so,” she said dryly.

He turned to the woman sitting beside him, who now stared up at Cynthia.

“Shino, meet Cynthia. She's a . . . an old friend of mine.”

Cynthia's frown deepened.
An old friend?
That's
what I am to him?

“Well, what was he supposed to say, girl? Meet Cynthia, my ex-lover who dumped me soon after high school graduation,” the voice in her head mocked. “Oh, and we're on a mission to stop our kids from getting married.”

No! Not that!
But why did he have to refer to her as his “old friend?” It made her sound like an old couch or an old shoe.

“The woman standing in front of you is old news,”
his words seemed to imply.
“You don't have to worry about her.”

“Uh, pleasure to meet you,” Shino said uneasily.

“Yeah, same here,” Cynthia answered flatly.

“Shino and I met at the gym this morning.”

Shino tossed her long, jet-black hair over her shoulder and leaned toward Korey. “He was showing me the proper way to bench-press.”

“The way you were doing it, you might've hurt yourself.”

“Well, then, thank God you were there! You're my hero,” she cooed, making Cynthia cringe.

“Yeah, well, sorry to interrupt you guys, but, Korey, you and I have something to discuss.” She glared at him. “That's why we're both here, right? Or did I wander around this restaurant for fifteen minutes just for the exercise?”

Shino sat back in her chair, removing the arm she had linked through his. “Oh, I didn't mean to . . . I mean I didn't know that—”

“It's okay,” Korey reassured, patting her hand soothingly. “Look, why don't we meet up later. How about seven o'clock? We can finally have that meal together. Next time, I'll make sure not to eat before you get here.”

Shino rose from her chair. “Sure, meet you at seven.” Cynthia waited impatiently as they exchanged numbers and flirted a few minutes longer. When Shino finally left, Cynthia flopped down in the now vacant chair beside Korey and slammed her python purse on the table, making the utensils and his plate rattle.

“Good afternoon to you too,” he replied with a smirk before drinking some of his iced tea.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Here I was thinking we were in Las Vegas to find Clarissa and Jared. I had no idea you were here in search of out-of-town booty!”

“
Out-of-town booty?
Cindy, just because I was talking to a woman and we're supposed to meet for dinner doesn't mean I'm trying to get some ass.”

“Yeah, right! I'm sure you're going out with Shamu because of her witty conversation.”

“It's
She
-no. Shamu is a killer whale.”

She shooed away his correction. “Shamu. Shinu. Whatever!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Same ol' same ol', huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“Twenty years have passed and it's still the same ol' stuff with you. You never liked me talking to other women. You always assumed I was going to cheat on you, to the point that you even created this lie in your head about a secret affair I was having with Viv. I never knew why you were like that.” He sat down his glass and gazed at her. “You're an attractive woman, Cindy. You shouldn't be so insecure.”

She stared at him, absolutely stunned. “
Insecure?
You think I'm insecure?”

“Hell, I don't think you are; I
know
you are! That's probably the reason why you were always so jealous.”

“I was
not
jealous!” she shouted, slapping her hands on the table, making several visor-wearing old women nearby turn to look at her. “And I'm damn sure not insecure!”

He lowered his fork, took a deep breath, and looked at her wearily. “Are you going to make a scene here too? Are you trying to cover every venue in Vegas?”

She shot up from the table. “To hell with you! I don't have to sit here and be insulted! I don't need this . . . this bullshit!”

Korey watched as she stormed off. Instead of looking alarmed by her outburst, he seemed bored. He returned his attention to his lunch after waving at the table of women sitting beside them.

“Sorry. She's off her meds,” he lied.

One of the old women nodded solemnly then made a
tsk, tsk
sound. “My daughter gets like that. Mental illness is a horrible thing.”

Meanwhile, Cynthia was still mumbling to herself as she stomped across the restaurant, looking every bit as crazy as Korey claimed her to be.

“Jealous,” she muttered between clenched teeth. “I'm not jealous . . . and I never have been!”

And if she ever did anything that
seemed
like jealousy in the old days, it wasn't her fault, she insisted. It was
his!
She had told him that they had to keep their relationship on the “down low,” and he had hated the idea and had been vocal about it. So to rub it in, he had gone out of his way to seem like the single guy. He had flirted with the girls in class and in the lunchroom right in front of her. He had refused to skip the senior prom with her and instead went with a small caravan of his boys. The whole night Cynthia had sat home alone, envisioning Korey getting busy on the dance floor with some ho in a tight, low-cut dress—and then getting busy again with that same ho later that night in the back of his Chevy.