Jodie
had never been lucky at anything in her whole life except rolling dice and
finding Jason. She didn’t do the former often, but the latter she had plenty of
experience in. The problem was—apparently so did Nicole, the slut,
the redneck skank, the devious little home wrecker.
She
stared at the text on her iPhone, wondering if her LifeLock case was really
waterproof, because she was seriously considering dropping it into the Caesar’s
Palace fountain as she sat and waited for the rest of the girls to come back
from gawking in Versace across the way.
Plz
text me back. I’m sorry.
Right.
It
took every ounce of her willpower not to text the little weasel back. It took
even more willpower—superhuman willpower—not to check Facebook,
where she knew he was going on and on to her about how funny , how cute , how sweet, and he couldn’t believe they’d both watched Frozen over a dozen times and just loved it better every single time. How old was Nicole, anyway, twelve? She acted twelve—except when she was sending nude pics to
Jodie’s fiancé.
Just
how stupid did Jason think she was?
But
it was hard not to respond. Because it was Jason. At some point she had
stopped being Jodie and they had become JodieandJason. They’d been
JodieandJason since anyone could remember. She ignored her mother’s voice in
her head, “Jodie, most high school sweethearts don’t make it, you know. I’m
not saying you won’t, but…” Why was her mother always right?
She
glanced up, seeing the girls coming out of Versace, all of them loaded down
with shopping bags. Most of them had husbands—rich ones. Besides Kimber,
Jodie’s best friend since forever, Lauren was the nicest one. She was married
with a daughter, a college friend of Kimber’s. The other three were like
Barbies—Jodie called them “the triplets” in her head—all bleach
blond, tanned, long-legs and fake tits. She could barely tell Brittany,
Courtney and Delaney apart and mostly didn’t want to.
Her
best friend, Kimber, was marrying Ryan Camfield, the heir to some sort of paper
making fortune, and this trip to Vegas was her version of a bachelorette party.
Jodie hadn’t gotten to that part of the planning yet herself, she realized, swallowing
the lump in her throat.
But
she had picked out and put a down payment on the dress.
That’s
when her mother had made the remark about high school sweethearts and failing
relationships. Right there in the dressing room while Jodie tried on wedding
dresses. Of course, she knew the statistics, but she and Jason weren’t a
statistic. They would beat the odds. They would be together forever. They might
never make the kind of money Kimber and her husband did, but they would be
happy. Forever. Ever after.
Until
Jason found her on Facebook. Nicole. Jodie couldn’t even think
about the girl without sneering in her head. Nicole the home wrecker. She’d
seen her picture, had looked through all of them with a sort of pent-up rage
that scared her. She thought she understood, now, how people ended up dead
after break-ups.
Nicole
was a brunette, pretty in a natural sort of way with rosy apple cheeks, a
down-to-earth country sort of girl who liked Luke Bryan and pickup trucks.
Jodie didn’t understand the appeal—what did Jason see in this girl? How
had this Nicole invaded her life, her relationship? How had she managed
to steal Jason out from under her nose while Jodie wasn’t even looking?
And
how could he possibly have started and then continued this “relationship,” for
six months, all the while letting her plan their wedding?
“You
guys done?” Jodie dropped her iPhone into her purse as the girls approached.
“Jodie
didn’t come to Vegas to shop or gamble,” Kimber teased. “She came to pawn some
weird-ass rare book.”
“I
came for you , Kimber.” Jodie snatched her purse off the table. Behind
her, the Caesar’s Palace fountain show was beginning, the statues coming
magically to life. She felt like
had never been lucky at anything in her whole life except rolling dice and
finding Jason. She didn’t do the former often, but the latter she had plenty of
experience in. The problem was—apparently so did Nicole, the slut,
the redneck skank, the devious little home wrecker.
She
stared at the text on her iPhone, wondering if her LifeLock case was really
waterproof, because she was seriously considering dropping it into the Caesar’s
Palace fountain as she sat and waited for the rest of the girls to come back
from gawking in Versace across the way.
Plz
text me back. I’m sorry.
Right.
It
took every ounce of her willpower not to text the little weasel back. It took
even more willpower—superhuman willpower—not to check Facebook,
where she knew he was going on and on to her about how funny , how cute , how sweet, and he couldn’t believe they’d both watched Frozen over a dozen times and just loved it better every single time. How old was Nicole, anyway, twelve? She acted twelve—except when she was sending nude pics to
Jodie’s fiancé.
Just
how stupid did Jason think she was?
But
it was hard not to respond. Because it was Jason. At some point she had
stopped being Jodie and they had become JodieandJason. They’d been
JodieandJason since anyone could remember. She ignored her mother’s voice in
her head, “Jodie, most high school sweethearts don’t make it, you know. I’m
not saying you won’t, but…” Why was her mother always right?
She
glanced up, seeing the girls coming out of Versace, all of them loaded down
with shopping bags. Most of them had husbands—rich ones. Besides Kimber,
Jodie’s best friend since forever, Lauren was the nicest one. She was married
with a daughter, a college friend of Kimber’s. The other three were like
Barbies—Jodie called them “the triplets” in her head—all bleach
blond, tanned, long-legs and fake tits. She could barely tell Brittany,
Courtney and Delaney apart and mostly didn’t want to.
Her
best friend, Kimber, was marrying Ryan Camfield, the heir to some sort of paper
making fortune, and this trip to Vegas was her version of a bachelorette party.
Jodie hadn’t gotten to that part of the planning yet herself, she realized, swallowing
the lump in her throat.
But
she had picked out and put a down payment on the dress.
That’s
when her mother had made the remark about high school sweethearts and failing
relationships. Right there in the dressing room while Jodie tried on wedding
dresses. Of course, she knew the statistics, but she and Jason weren’t a
statistic. They would beat the odds. They would be together forever. They might
never make the kind of money Kimber and her husband did, but they would be
happy. Forever. Ever after.
Until
Jason found her on Facebook. Nicole. Jodie couldn’t even think
about the girl without sneering in her head. Nicole the home wrecker. She’d
seen her picture, had looked through all of them with a sort of pent-up rage
that scared her. She thought she understood, now, how people ended up dead
after break-ups.
Nicole
was a brunette, pretty in a natural sort of way with rosy apple cheeks, a
down-to-earth country sort of girl who liked Luke Bryan and pickup trucks.
Jodie didn’t understand the appeal—what did Jason see in this girl? How
had this Nicole invaded her life, her relationship? How had she managed
to steal Jason out from under her nose while Jodie wasn’t even looking?
And
how could he possibly have started and then continued this “relationship,” for
six months, all the while letting her plan their wedding?
“You
guys done?” Jodie dropped her iPhone into her purse as the girls approached.
“Jodie
didn’t come to Vegas to shop or gamble,” Kimber teased. “She came to pawn some
weird-ass rare book.”
“I
came for you , Kimber.” Jodie snatched her purse off the table. Behind
her, the Caesar’s Palace fountain show was beginning, the statues coming
magically to life. She felt like
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