#TripleX (35 page)

Walking down the strip, Christine asked, “So what
did
happen in New Mexico with Thor?”

“Nothing—” Matt started.

Cutting him off, “Nothing that you’ll ever know about,” I quipped, smiling smugly.

“Send them in,” the judge announces into her phone’s intercom. Within seconds, Jake and Matt hurry into Judge Jacobson’s chambers.

Matt immediately wraps his arms around me. “Lou, are you okay?” he asks, patting down my hair and looking into my eyes. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Ms. Stone?” the judge asks, glaring at me.

“Yes, Your Honor,” I say, turning toward her.

“I cannot believe someone as intelligent as you are almost let a man as loving and as wonderful as this one get away,” she announces, shaking her head. “People wait their whole lives—for what seems like forever—waiting for something like that to come along. And you, you almost let it slip away. I hope you learned a very valuable lesson on this journey.”

Not knowing how to respond, I just nod, gripping Matt’s hand harder.

“Mr. Ryan, I assume you will not be pressing charges for the unfortunate ummm… shall we call it a ‘misplacement’ of your vehicle?” Jakes groans and finally nods his head.

Christine laughs, clapping her hands. “So we can go now?”

“Ms. Zolendz, I’m not done. Not even close. There is still that small matter of the two of you trespassing indecently in the fountains of the Bellagio.” Christine and I bow our heads. We hear Jake and Matt chuckle.

“Your Honor,” Matt says, “Christine and Angelisa came here to go to an author signing. They’ve already missed it. Do you think they could—?”

“Oh my God, did we really? What time is it?” Christine whines, looking around. “Is it over?”

“Started two hours ago,” Jake announces, nodding his head.

“It’s okay. I called Ellie and Virginia at Love N Books last night—”

“What? When?” Christine asks, staring at me incredulously.

“During the whole processing part,” I admit.

“So, we were being thrown in jail and you call bloggers?” Chris questions in disbelief.

“We get one phone call,” I say, defensively.

“And
that’s
who you chose to call?” Christine marvels. “They’re going to think we’re total, irresponsible assholes.”

“Who else was I going to call? These two already knew we were in here,” pointing at Jake and Matt. “They were there when we got caught. What? What did you do? Did you go in a closet and read your books to Jake? Who’d you call?”

“Nobody! There was nobody to call!”

“Hey, if someone tells me I get to make a phone call, I’m sure as Hell calling someone,” I state, matter-of-factly. “Plus, I wanted Ellie and Virginia to know that we might possibly miss the signing. That’s rude to be a ‘No Call/No show.’ I love them. I wouldn’t do that to them after all the hard work they put—”

“Ladies,” the judge says, so quietly we barely hear her. “You’re doing it again. Getting off topic. I think we are closing in on the matter of the arrest. Can we just get to that part, please?”

“You’ve obviously spent a very long morning with my sister,” Jake jokes, smiling at her and raking his fingers through his mussed hair. “She’s a bit long-winded at times.”

“A bit?” the judge jokes, smiling. Smiling? At my brother? Oh Jesus!

Jake laughs, winks at her, and says, “Imagine being her brother.”

The judge immediately perks up. Then suddenly, without warning, Judge Caroline Jacobson twirls her finger into her tight bun, loosening it and removing the pencil that held it all together. Her long dark hair falls and cascades down her shoulders, taking a good decade off her age. She shakes it as it fills out and fluffs.

I hear the unmistakable gasp from all the men in the room and the groan from Christine. Finally Christine speaks up, “Well Your Honor, since this part of the story is mainly about me—and Jake. I mean, he
is
the reason I got naked in the first place,” Christine says, with a snarky sound in her voice. “I’ll tell you just what got us wet—and naked.”

Twitter: Bad Girls. Bad Girls. Watcha gonna do? #SkinnyDippingAccidents

“Yeah. Let’s just start with the biggest size you have,” I smiled as nicely as I possibly could to the saleslady at Vegas Runway Rental;
then blew out an exasperated breath when she walked her pointy little heels into the back. She looked like a skeleton, an anorexic skeleton that hadn’t eaten in weeks. I wanted to hug the poor girl and spoon-feed her chocolate pudding until she burst.

“And bring out some of that really expensive jewelry too!” Angelisa yelled at the woman’s retreating stick figure form. “Hell, if my brother could read your writing first, he’s going to pay for it by making me look filthy rich. I’m going out like Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman
.”

“You need to stop taking things out on your brother. He was just there, and I started zoning out… and… and he witnessed it. Grabbed my phone right out of my hands.” I shook my head and peeked across the fitting area to where the men were getting fitted for tuxedos. “We should have gotten all dressed up
befo
re
you went and got married again. This doesn’t even make sense doing it now… and all the pictures suck.”

“Has anything we’ve done so far on this trip make sense?” she questioned, smiling widely.

“Good point,” I agreed.

Angelisa jumped up and down at the first sight of the
Crypt Keeper saleslady walking toward us with a rolling closet full of the most expensive designer gowns I had ever laid my eyes on. Angelisa, ignoring my words, clapped her hands giddily. “Just rent the most expensive shit, and I’ll feel so much better about
you allowing him to read your words before I got to…
and for the
whole M&M situation
. Then we’ll go out and have a blast in that limo. We’ll gamble, dance all night, and take plenty of good pictures—in hot dresses.”

I couldn’t even roll my eyes hard enough; they’d have popped right out of their sockets.
How could she still be angry with me about the damn M&Ms?

I chanced a peek at the guys again. Jake met my gaze and winked at me. I saluted him with my middle finger. Ever since he read the sex scene I wrote, he kept teasing and flirting with me. Said I should put my body where my words are. Yeah, like that would happen—with
him
. The only way I’d be getting close to his junk is if I was kicking him there for breaking his promise to not tell Angelisa he read my newest words.

Ang was as worried about my career as I was. Sincerely, I hadn’t been able to publish anything for the last year. The words just got all mangled up at my fingertips and none of them ever felt good enough to show anyone. Then, after the whole cheating disaster, the words wouldn’t even come anymore.

“Here. Try on this,” Angelisa shoved a silky, black piece of material at me. “Stop looking over there. No one is going to save you from this. You need to just put on one of these gorgeous dresses and look at yourself for the first time in three months. Face yourself.”

I sighed loudly, but she was right. I hadn’t looked at myself in a full-length mirror for three months. I even made sure I positioned myself away from all the mirrors in the workout classes we took—and especially at the pole dancing class. I hadn’t seen myself—head on, full-length—since this trip began. Not since the day I held that stupid apple pie in my hand and gawked at what life had done to my body. I had to look better than I did then, right? I looked down at the dress in my hand and read the tag.

Size ten
.

Size M&M-eating ten? No chance.

Was the saleslady stupid?

Obviously, she was nutritionally unbalanced, and her celery stick body must have deprived its brain of any remedial functions, like getting the correct size to
not
make the fat girl cry. I hadn’t been a size ten since before my second kid popped out.

“I’m sorry,” I said, tapping the saleslady on one painfully bony shoulder. “I don’t think this is going to fit me at all. Do you possibly have any eighteens or twenties?” She gave me a vacant stare that scared the Hell out of me. “How about some fudge? I think you need a little fudge maybe—you know, to clear your thoughts.”

A blue suede shoe came sailing at me and thumped me hard across the back of my head. “Try it on. The size ten. Right now,” Angelisa ordered as we walked into the fitting room and closed the door.

I whirled around toward Angelisa, who seemed to be stroking three different dresses and sniffing at them, the words, “my precious,” mumbled continuously past her lips. “A size ten, Ang? Come on. The only thing that’s remotely a ten around here is the shape of me and that saleslady standing next to each other. Clearly, she’s the one, and I’m the zero. Trying a size ten on is only going to make me feel like a big old zero. It’ll make me feel like crap.”

“You look like crap
right now
. Your jeans are sliding down your ass, and you’re swimming in that stupid heavy metal t-shirt.” She stopped caressing the gowns and jammed her hands on her hips. It was then that I realized she was wearing mostly jewelry. Long glistening diamond earrings, some sort of ruby and emerald necklace and on each of her fingers sat a large sparkly stone. The only clothes she had on were her bra and panties.

I clenched my teeth together.
Wait a minute
. She looked skinnier. Like, a lot skinnier.

When the hell did that happen?

Her eyes narrowed at me, and her lips pinched together tightly. “Since this is Vegas, let’s make a bet. If that dress fits you… you have to… ummm… oh… I got it. You have to climb over the fences tonight and dip your feet into the fountains at the Bellagio,” she smirked. “Prepare to get wet, sweetie.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Yeah. Well, if you fit into a size ten, you have to do the same.”

“Deal. There’s no way I could fit into a size ten right now. Not yet, anyway,” she shrugged. I waited for her tirade about how big her ass and hips were—but it never came. She pranced around in her jewelry and panties like she owned the place. Angelisa was comfortable and confident in her new body.

I tore off my t-shirt and jeans just to get it over with quickly, like yanking off a Band-Aid. There was no way I was a size ten. She looked great, but me, I had a lot more work to do. I slipped the silky material over my head and cringed. I hated that suicidal-like dressing room feeling when things didn’t fit. There should be a heck of a lot more to a woman than the number on the back of her dress. I wished people could wear their insides on their outsides, so they could be judged for who they truly were. We’d all be guts and glory, and all the same colors.

The dark fabric glided down my frame, and I held my breath as it perfectly tumbled over my breasts and stomach, over my hips and thighs.

Ummm. What in the name of cupcakes just happened?

That’s when the tears came. I cried in the mirror when I saw how it held every one of my curves lovingly, beautifully. For the first time in years, the tears weren’t for frustration, humiliation, or shame. No, they were for happiness and accomplishment.

It fit me perfectly.

Stunningly.

“Holy shit,” Angelisa whispered, slapping her hands over her mouth. Her eyes widened, and she frantically grabbed at the nearest dress and shoved it over her head. “My turn,” she squealed.

I barely heard her cries of joy next to me. I was too busy staring at myself in the mirror. A slow warmth spread across my chest. I finally recognized the woman in the mirror. It was the smile that I remembered so well. God, how I missed that carefree, proud smile. How I missed being happy and healthy and proud of myself. I stepped closer to my image, peering at it, and gradually, about an inch at a time, and turned around, trying to see as much of myself as I could. There was no more hopelessness in my gaze. My posture was straighter; my shoulders didn’t slump forward anymore. I felt…
beautiful
. For the first time in a long time, I felt beautiful.

Beautiful.

And it wasn’t because I had waited for a man to tell me, or that I had finally fit into a size ten again. It was my smile. My happiness. My accomplishment. It was the fact that I set out to do something, and
I did it
. I know now to never again rely on someone else for my happiness or my self-worth. I am the only one who can be held responsible for that. Without loving myself, no one else would be able to fully love me. If I didn’t respect myself, no one else would respect me either. For the first time ever, I accepted what I was in life, everything about me, and made the changes that I wanted to make, because
I
wanted them. Fitting comfortably in my skin had nothing to do with anyone else. I would never again let anyone cause me to feel anything less than what I truly am.