Deliver Her from Evil Read online

  However, there is a side to him that Jen has never seen. He can be the sweetest guy with a huge heart, who would help anyone he could. Most of the money he’s made he’s given to his family, but Jen doesn’t want to hear any of that. To her, he’ll always be the front man of Absolution who can’t keep it in his pants.

  “What exactly did you do last night?” Vivian inquires, interrupting my thoughts.

  I try to stall, so when a waitress comes by, I grab her and ask for a menu. She politely tells me it’s a buffet and I can just go get whatever I would like, but if I have a special drink order, she could take care of it for me. Great, now I look like I’m stalling.

  “You said it was soooo important. What could be more important that Cirque du Soleil?” Carly adds.

  I take a drink of my water and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

  “I ate something that upset my stomach and had diarrhea. I didn’t want to be stuck in a show when another round hit me,” I explain. Judging from the looks on their faces, I picked a winner. Nothing like a fecal incident to halt a conversation immediately.

  “I guarantee there were no rainbows being shit in that bathroom,” Jen laughs, which earns a harsh look from Vivian and a mild slap on the arm.

  “Are you feeling better?” Vivian asks concerned.

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  “Thank you for not including me,” Carly adds. “You can ditch me any time, if loose bowels are the cause. I’m glad you’re feeling better, though. We have a big night, beer poos are not allowed.”

  Jen rolls her eyes and laughs. “We are in Vegas and there are no kids in the near vicinity, cussing is allowed, Car. Beer shits, the terms is called beer shits.”

  Jen then turns back to me. “But she is right, no beer shits allowed.”

  I nod and hold up my two fingers for the Boy’s Scout’s pledge.

  Everyone laughs, and just like that, the tension at the table evaporates. We are once again four friends, four sisters who are here to enjoy each other. Complications and drama of home, forgotten. Men, relationships, kids, jobs, everything put on hold in order to enjoy the moment. Enjoy each other.

  “So what’s on the agenda?” I ask.

  “Shopping, the pool, sleeping, and then primping for a night on the town,” Jen says excitedly. “Vegas will never be the same when we get done with it. Tonight will be epic!”

  The three of us look to each other and then to Jen. Excitement, worry, apprehension, all passing between us.

  “We better start scraping together bail money now,” Carly announces under her breath. Jen stares at her, thinking momentarily before a huge grin splits across her face.

  “You bet your sweet ass!”

  Royce

  After buttoning up my dress shirt, styling my mop of a hairstyle, and spraying my favorite cologne, I spend the next five minutes waiting for the guys and staring at the text Carly sent me this morning.

  “I’m sorry,” one of the most powerful phrases in the human language. With two simple words, the wounds she inflicted have begun to heal. She pissed me off royally this morning, but after having a deep conversation with my Sally doll, I’ve come to realize she just reacted poorly to an uncompromising situation.

  A pounding on my door breaks the silence in my room, and I hustle to answer it.

  “Are you ready to tear shit up tonight?” our drummer, John, asks as the rest of the guys filter into my room. I stuff my wallet and phone into my pocket and tuck Sally under my arm.

  “Is that really a question you need to ask?” I ask them with a huff.

  Casen pulls the blow up doll out of my grasp. “I can’t, dude. No way. You cannot bring this thing along. The girls will be going with us, and I know Jen will have a fucking fit.”

  I laugh and pull the doll away from him. “All the more reason to bring her along,” I say before marching out of the hotel room to the elevators. The footsteps behind me and the door closing tell me the resistance is over; Sally has officially become our party mascot. I at least thought ahead enough to dress her in a tasteful outfit for the evening.

  The metal doors open and we all step into the elevator. “Jen is seriously going to kill you,” John whispers to me as we take the ride to the lobby. I ignore his warning, although I know he’s absolutely right; I need to prepare for battle.

  When the doors open, we walk past a row of slots and find ourselves in the lobby. A circle of smiles greet our arrival, but it doesn’t take long for one grin to disappear. “Fuck no, not happening,” Jen exclaims. “Casen, rein your boy in,” she demands. All of the girls are dressed in the usual bachelorette paraphernalia of penis necklaces and tiaras while Jen fashions the bride sash across her chest. I personally think Sally fits right in.

  I hoist Sally up on my shoulder and bounce her like she’s just made the winning shot in a championship game. “She’s our wedding mascot,” I insist. “Sally will be our ticket to VIP sections.”

  The girls, with the exception of Jen, laugh. I recognize Carly’s laugh instantly and I find myself yearning to hear it again.

  “More like our ticket to videos and pictures gone viral,” Campbell jokes.

  I grab ahold of the penis necklace that dangles from Carly’s neck. “If you girls get to wear phallic jewelry in public, then Sally should get to come along.”

  “Fine, but she rides in the trunk or on the roof,” Jen growls.

  Now that our disagreement is settled, we head toward the exit. The noise of the Vegas strip is exciting. The energy of the atmosphere infects my body and causes a vibration within my system. I find Carly in our crowd and navigate to her.

  Casen hails cabs for us and I rush to get to her so I can share a cab with her, but the girls crowd me out. Instead, I’m stuck with my bandmates, John and Seiger, and Lakin.

  We all pile into the cab, and I make sure there is enough room for Sally, as I refuse to follow Jen’s trunk rule.

  “Buckle up for safety,” I say once we smoosh in. The comment garners me a stern, unappreciated look from them all. “Oh come on you guys, this is supposed to be a fun night, don’t be asses.”

  “Where to, guys?” the cabbie asks before looking in his rearview mirror. His Eastern European accent is so thick I can barely comprehend his question.

  “Tallywacker’s, we are in the mood for a little punany bread,” I say with the utmost seriousness.

  Lakin snaps his head to me, like he can’t believe what I’ve just said. When a broad smile appears on my face, he just shakes his head at my level of immaturity.

  “I know no such place,” the driver call’s back. “You get guys and girls there?” he asks.

  When we don’t answer right away, he looks back at us and sees Sally. His brow reaches into his receding hairline and nods his head in an unspoken understanding.

  “I know just where to take you boys,” he says before whipping the cab into traffic.

  The four of us look back and forth to each other in confusion.

  “You like men too, or just the women?” he asks. “I can find cheap, cheap rates for you. Just tell me what you like.”

  “Ummm,” Seiger begins to say, uncomfortable with our new possible destination as opposed to Fremont Street as planned. “We…um,” he stutters again, unable to spit out any recognizable complete sentence.

  John sees the grand opportunity to fuck with Seiger and I give him the nod to pounce.

  “We prefer the women, but my friend here,” John says, pointing to Seiger, “likes the men, but they must be midgets.”

  “What?” Seiger exclaims. “No. No. No. No. No. I like the women. I like the women,” he insists.

  I sneak a peek over at Lakin, and he’s trying to hide his laugh in his hand.

  “You no worry,” the cabbie says reassuringly. “I find you good little guy.”

  “No little guy,” Seiger says, narrowing his eyes at us. “We want to go to Fremont, sir.”

  We try to maintain our composure, because the second we l
augh the joke will be over. Lakin is desperately trying to keep it together, but with every passing second he struggles more and more.

  “Fremont, may be hard and more money,” the guys says. “How much you pay? The tip counts you know,” he adds with a wink.

  Aaaannd that does it, Lakin snorts and breaks into hysterics. His laugh is contagious and I have to duck behind the Sally doll to conceal my laughter.

  “No men, no women, just take us to Fremont Street,” Seiger demands.

  “Okay, okay,” the cabbie resigns. “You change your mind, just find me. I hook you up.”

  Within minutes, our cabbie has us parked on the street that will lead us on the short walk to Fremont. Up ahead the crowd has overtaken the area to watch a band playing on the main stage and onlookers stare as people fly above the crowd on the zip line.

  A pissed off Seiger bursts out of the cab slamming the door behind him. He catches Sally’s head in the car door, popping the plastic. She deflates immediately, air hissing in the back of the cab, with no way of saving her.

  I jump out and race around to see her flattened head hang out of the car door.

  “Dude! There’s no reason to take out your anger on Sally,” I say as the cabbie drives away with her head flapping in the wind.

  “Yeah, she was an innocent bystander in all of this,” John teases.

  “I betcha that cabbie can get you a new one,” Seiger says. “You guys are assholes.”

  His lack of humor toward the situation makes us laugh even harder. “Sorry, man,” I tell him. “We couldn’t pass up the chance.”

  He crosses his arms across his body, sulking. “You’re fucking hilarious,” he steams.

  Lakin pulls out his phone and sends a text to the rest of the crew. Hopefully, we can catch up with them. “Come on,” he says as he puts his phone back in his pocket. “I’ll buy you all the first round. It will only take a couple of drinks for that ride to be funny, Seiger.”

  Lakin was absolutely right. Three drinks in and the cab ride was an epic story, which Seiger felt free to share with anyone who would listen at the bar.

  Somehow, amongst the crowd, we managed to find the other carload of our group, but I didn’t get to spend any of our time out with Carly. Jen made sure to keep the girls partitioned away from us, and it became a look but don’t touch situation in regards to Carly. After my buzz began to wear off and I realized none of my efforts were going to be aimed at the one girl I actually wanted to talk to, I caught the bus back to the strip.

  The girls left long before I did, and none of the guys were ready to leave, so the bus ride home is a lonely one. Although the bus would take me all the way to my hotel, I decide to hop off on one side of the strip and enjoy the long trek back to the hotel. I could use the fresh air to think about how I’m going to get another chance with Carly.

  I make it all the way to the Bellagio before I stop to see the water display. The crowds have thinned, so finding a spot along the stone edging in the middle is easy to find. I lean on the cooled rock and wait, and wait.

  After several minutes of no show, I look around for any clues as to why nothing is happening. Looking down the edging, I notice Carly leaning against the stone just as I am, a mere fifty feet away.

  She hasn’t noticed me.

  I close the gap between us and scoot in close to her, staring out at the water, when I finally reach her.

  “Did I miss a memo or something?” I ask.

  “By about two hours,” she responds without missing a beat, making me think she did see me and just chose not to acknowledge me.

  She turns and smiles at me, which puts my fears to rest. “I googled it. They turn the fountains off at midnight. We’ll have to catch it tomorrow before we leave.”

  I zone in on her use of the word we, and I absolutely love the sound. “We’ll have to do that,” I say, adding my own we into the conversation.

  She nods and turns her back to the water, leaning against the rocks. “What happened to Sally? I noticed she didn’t make it to the bar, but I didn’t get a chance to ask.”

  “It’s a long story,” I laugh. “Let’s just say the old girl has been laid to rest.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  I look out at the water and let silence take over the moment.

  “I really am sorry about this morning,” she finally says. “I enjoyed being with you last night, and I hope it wasn’t the last time.”

  A sense of relief overtakes me. She says the exact words I was hoping for. Carly is a force I would struggle to stay away from. So to hear her say that she would like to see me again, even if it’s in a non-romantic capacity, well, it’s something. I struggle with my need to push the envelope, push her toward something more with me.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I grab her waist and slide her body in-between mine and the rocks, caging her in. Pushing her silky brunette hair away from her face, I cradle her face in my hands. Leaning in, I lightly rub my lips against hers, not kissing, just tempting, teasing her. When I finally hear the begging whimper I’m looking for, I plunge ahead, devouring her mouth.

  She feels just as good as I hoped she would, a sensation I could come to crave. I could spend every day for the rest of my life touching these lips, and it wouldn’t be enough.

  I finally pull away and tuck a loose strand behind her ear. “You won’t be getting rid of me anytime soon.”

  Two Weeks Later

  Campbell

  Lying by omission is still lying.

  That’s what I’ve been told at least. But there is no malice or deceit in my omission; it has been a necessity. The girls can’t know I’m married, and so far Lakin and I have done an impressive job at hiding it. Everyone is still adjusting to the idea of he and I being in a relationship, so I don’t think the news of our marriage would be well received.

  While I spend a great deal of my days with the bands or the kids at the foundation, my nights are devoted to my husband. For now, I’ve maintained my own apartment, but I’m not really living there; Lakin’s apartment is my home. The secrecy of our situation has been something I have found comforting. It’s special and it’s mine.

  My only other focus right now is someone I see as a younger version of myself…Leah. Carly agreed to show up at the foundation today to meet her. If they click, then she will look into moving forward with getting approval as a foster parent.

  Carly steps into Vivian’s office fifteen minutes earlier than I am expecting. She looks apprehensive and timid, and I completely understand. She’s preparing to possibly step across hot coals, and is hopeful she doesn’t end up scorched. I wish I could reassure her that she’ll safely make it to the other side, but that’s not a promise I can make.

  “Hey,” she says. “I just got back from my lawyer’s office and I didn’t have time to go home, so I thought early was better than late.”

  I stand up from the couch to greet her and offer as much support as I can. “It’s no problem; Leah is here already. She’s talking to some kids in one of the conference rooms.”

  Carly fidgets, each of her hands wrestling the other. “What should we do, wait here for her or should I go out to the commons area? I guess I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Car, you need to relax and breathe a bit, girl,” I tell her. “Leah is wearing some cut off jean shorts, a purple tank, and has a bright pink backpack. You can’t miss her. Go out to the activities area and hang out with the kids; when she comes out, I’ll find you and introduce you.”

  She nods, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. “I’m just worried,” she finally says.

  I tilt my head, looking for further clarification. Nervous, anxious, yes, but worried? I can’t imagine what she would be worried about.

  “I don’t want to mess it up,” she explains. “If she needs a home and I’m a good fit, then I want to help. What if she doesn’t like me? What if I’m not strong enough to pull this off?”

  “How could anyone not like you? You are the most selfless, most
compassionate person I know. Leah, isn’t going to like you; she’s going to love you, just like I do.”

  I mean every word I tell her, and apparently they provide the courage she needs because she smiles and turns to leave the room.

  I’m tempted to go with her, be her bridge, her crutch to meet the kids at the foundation, but I know better. She needs to gather her own bravery, otherwise the kids will see right through her and she will be of no use to any of them, including Leah.

  I force myself to wait fifteen minutes, when I know the group discussion will be minutes from concluding, before stepping into the hallway. I’m hoping to catch Leah in the hall as she exits the conference room, but when I arrive, Carly is standing outside, the door to the room wide open.

  I step around her to see Leah is still talking with the group, and I know exactly what she is telling them, the stories Carly just heard. How she would purposely wet her pants because she thought no one would want her so they would have to send her back to her mother. How her mother would leave her home alone with no food for days at a time when she was on a bender. How by the time she finally realized her mother couldn’t be a real mother for her, her likelihood of finding a permanent home was slim to none. She was destined to be a statistic, and she hoped she would beat the odds. Carly heard every gut-wrenching word of Leah’s story, and for the first time, I was scared Carly would walk away from her.

  I see the mascara is running down her cheeks, and I ask her if she is okay. She ignores the question and hastily brushes the tears away from her face.

  “Tell me what I need to do,” she says, her voice shaking with emotion.

  Initially, I’m perplexed by her question. “To do what, Car? Be a foster parent?” I ask.

  She looks back into the room where Leah is now gathering up her backpack, clears her throat, and then squares her shoulders toward me.

  “No,” she says confidently. “To adopt her.”