Handbook: What to Do if You Get Stuck in Vegas

Chapter 7: How To Feel Betrayed

"Did you just call me Ms. Lohan? Are you calling me a drug-addict whore?"

"You're not a drug addict." I answer automatically, making a beeline around Denise, who's sitting on a stool behind the counter, and open the fridge. Then I realize I just ate, so I shut the door again, perplexed. What do I do now?

"Gee, that clarification makes me feel so much better," Denise mutters sarcastically. I turn around to look at her, also leaning on the fridge. She's eating Lucky Charms, even if it's time for dinner.

"Well, you aren't exactly... Pure." I can't very well tell an eighteen year old she's a whore.... Or can I?

"Appearances can be deceiving." Denise points out, also pointing at me with her spoon.

I'm scared; will she try to kill me with it?

"Well, are you?"

"Maybe. Thing is, don't judge a book by its cover."

"Amen to that." I agree wholeheartedly. Daemon is a beautiful woman... With the heart of an evil serial killer.

"Do you think I'm ever going to win Rose's trust back?" Denise whispers suddenly, her black eyes staring into mine sadly. I'm taken aback; because not only do I not know what she's talking about, I also have no idea why she's getting deep with me.

Actually, I didn't think she could get deep.

"I think trust once broken is tough to win back. But ya know, everyone's different, maybe that's just me, yada yada yada." I mimic a mock, but Denise doesn't even smile.

Uh-oh.

Is this serious time again?

So soon?

"I think that I really fucked up this time." Denise mutters to herself, pushing back some strands of her hair.

"Sorry for prying -and I do mean to pry- but exactly what did you do?" I ask Denise curiously, pushing off the fridge and walking over to sit on the stool across her. Denise leans further on the counter, making her boobs push up (not that I notice). She holds my gaze, and when she opens up her mouth to speak, a steely voice stops her.

"Denise Hail Hummings, don't you dare breathe another word!" A low growl hisses out, and both of us turn to the doorway to my left, where Rose looks like an avenging murderer.

Are murderers ever not avenging?

Moving on...

"NO! Lying is bad, Rose, and I know you don't want to-"

"Stop it, Denise, I'm serious-"

Whenever is she not?

This time, the interruption is due to the house phone ringing, and I sprint out of my seat to answer.

"Hello, this is the Hummings household, how may I help you?"

"Draenor? What are you now, a damn maid?"

Shit. Anyone but her.

"Hi, mom, you sound ever so joyous this evening."

"Cut it with the sarcasm, ass. I thought you'd be in a plane by now."

"Sorry to put a damper on your mood, mother, but I won't be seeing you again in like three or so days." I inform her, lowering my head and squinting to see the headline of a printed e-mail that's sitting on the counter. It says MONEY TRANSFER in big, bold letters.

"Damper? Son, you just made my day. Now I don't have to see your face."

Really, my mom is the most lovable woman I've ever met.