Nikki led us back to the hotel we were staying at. The crowd bumped and pushed us along the sidewalk as we walked back to the hotel, and at times we got separated but managed to get back to each other here and there. "Kenna, hurry up! We still need to get ready," Nikki called back.
There was a club Nikki had made me promise tonight we were going to; I would rather have binged the latest series or had a geek night in pajamas, but a promise was a promise. If Nikki knew one thing about me, it was that I took them seriously, and she knew how to get me into one with no way of getting out.
My feet were already starting to kill me from all the walking we had done, so the spa she had booked us in was sounding like heaven at about this point; it was also needed if I was going to keep up tonight. Nikki could be like a whirlwind at times and parties; she became the life of them.
The spa didn't disappoint! Every trace of stress and anxiety felt like a distant memory, and I felt like I was floating at this point; sore feet were long forgotten, and even the thought of going up to get changed did not get me down. This was something completely new to me; I generally did not like people touching me. Mom had left one more surprise for me before she passed on. Nikki and I had an all-expenses-paid VIP Vegas experience; she had begged Nikki to make me do it, make sure that I didn't hole up, and make sure this would be a celebration to remember and not a time to mourn. Everything was paid upfront, and whatever we needed or wanted, we just had to ask for it. I felt like I had a magic genie at my beck and call.
Nikki had to rein in some things; she meant well, but the glam and the lights got to her when we first got here and shopping became her new hobby. She could shop as if an Olympic medal depended on it.
I could hear a few voices travel through the walls in between songs on my playlist throughout the entire session, someone getting pampered for her bridal shower and another getting ready for her wedding. A few more here and there, one particularly nasal, childlike voice piercing through the air. All I could think was, why do grown women talk like that? The voice hadn't been there before, but it was grating on every nerve at this point. My buzz was fading, and I was frustrated the more I heard her. I had not put my playlist on repeat and that it had come to an end; my phone was in one of the lockers and a little too far to get to in my current blissful state.
"I told you, tonight while we are all out celebrating and having fun, I will spike his drink. Then off to the nearest wedding chapel we go; he won't know what hit him!" A slight pause from her side followed. "I don't know why he keeps delaying. We have been engaged for a year already, and he just won't set a date!" The grating voice carried on. "I don't care if Mom won't like the elopement; at least she can stop complaining about it taking so long to close the deal. We can have a formal wedding sometime later; that's not important. It's not like he will have a choice in the matter by then; without a prenup, he won't be running anywhere. Too scared to lose his precious farm and vineyard, you wouldn't say he comes from a well-off family the way he works; he's so ... common." It spoke volumes; if her mother would only complain about the elopement and not the underhanded method she took to reach it, there just was no hope for some people. I really felt sorry for the guy she spoke so harshly about.
I couldn't hear what the other person in the conversation said, so I assume with how loud this woman was talking, she must have had headphones in with the volume turned on full. I couldn't blame this guy for delaying the pending nuptials, but he had proposed, so I suppose he dug his own grave in that. I tuned out to the rest of whatever plot the crazy lady had up her sleeve. I was not into the drama. It also sounded like the call had come to a close.
I sat back and relaxed, waiting for the makeup artist; she walked in a few minutes later and got ready to look amazing. "Did you rest okay during your cool-off?" She asked, "I'm sorry if you were disturbed at all," she said, heavily tilting her head towards the room the nasal voice had come from.
Nikki waltzed in with a garment bag in each hand, having already finished up and being waiting for me. "So, who's Cruella next door? I haven't heard someone worship themselves as much as she does in a very long time."
"No idea. I call it Drama with a capital D. It's best to avoid it as much as possible. We're only here for 4 more days, and then it's the next stop on our tour before we're back at college. I really don't want to cross paths with her or get involved." I tried to brush the uncomfortable conversation I had heard out of my head. Nikki clearly had been close by in one of the rooms; she too heard everything said.
"Trust me, you would not want to be in her vicinity; she comes here often, and I try to avoid her as much as possible. There isn't a kind bone in her body." The make-up artist added shyly, having realized she spoke negatively about a client.
We could hear her through the wall shouting at an employee, "Do you know who I am? You're incompetent! I asked for champagne! What you brought me is no better than grape juice with a fizz! Get me something better!" The rude woman demanded. The nail tech rolled her eyes. "I would never try to talk bad about clients, but with her it's the exact same every time! Next, she will call the manager, flutter her eyes, and tell him how incompetent the staff is and that they really need to increase their standards when hiring. Then she will try to get this 'comped' because of some or the other thing and drop the 'You know my daddy would be so disappointed if I told him this' line, and the manager will give in; he does it every single time." I felt sorry for the makeup artist. Dealing with difficult clients was not my idea of enjoying what I did, and the woman next door sounded high-maintenance and a downright pain in the butt.
When we finished, I made sure to leave a good tip for the people that had pampered us as a thank you firstly and a 'Sorry you have to deal with people like that' apology.
We headed up to our suite and got changed. Nikki imitated "Cruella," as we now dubbed her, while we played around getting ready. Her imitation was spot on. "Oh no, don't put that on; you may look prettier than me and attract all the attention away from me. You know I'm the belle of the ball; remember your place, commoner!" She giggled and I laughed along with her. I hadn't laughed so hard in a very long time.
We really looked hot; we stood side by side admiring how we looked. Our dresses were sexy but still modest, and our makeup was done perfectly, not overstated. They really did an amazing job at the spa.
Nikki wore a dark blue cocktail dress with stilettos, which I knew would be killing her feet before we reached the club; in her words, 'Sometimes you had to suffer to look great.' I wore a dark green embroidered cocktail dress with flat pumps. I was tall enough to pull it off; even if the stilettos would have looked killer, I was not going to be uncomfortable, and no way was I suffering through the night.
"Remember, tonight is about having fun, Kenna! In the same breath what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, so let loose for once! "Live a little, especially for your mom; she wanted this. She also wanted you to do this for you. So no more sad grumpy faces, no more teary eyes. I promise when we get back we can have a pajama day and mope, but not this week! Agreed?" I needed Nikki in my life; she knew me and understood me. nodded my head, sniffed very unladylike, and put on my brave face. Nikki grabbed my hand, and we giggled all the way down our elevator ride to the club entrance.