Reinventing Rachel (5 page)

Chapter 6

“This is the captain speaking. We’re about ten minutes outside of Las Vegas, and we’ll be landing at gate three at McCarran Airport. We hope your flight has been enjoyable. ”

Rachel drained the rest of her soda before she handed the cup to a passing attendant. She stifled a yawn and leaned her head against the window, training her eyes on the ground as it crept closer.
A twinge of excitement at the sight of the enormous marquees and casinos in the distance made her smile, something she hadn’t done with sincerity in almost a week.

The night before, she and Daphne had made their final arrangements on the phone. “You set the agenda,
mon amie
,” Daphne had said. “You’re the walking wounded.”

“But I don’t want to bring you down. You earned this trip, you should get to do what you want.”

“I’ll get in whatever questionable activity I want to. Don’t worry about me. I just want to make sure you leave Sunday night feeling better than you do when you land Friday afternoon.”

So Rachel then admitted that she’d much rather hole up in the hotel room and watch movies and eat room service than go out and party. And Daphne, bless her, had agreed. But now that she saw the city up close, Rachel was beginning to think she may have spoken too soon.

A black-suited man in the baggage claim area held a small sign with her name scrawled across it. She wheeled her carry-on to him and pointed at the card. “That’s me.”

He nodded and tucked the sign under his arm, then reached for her bag. “How many pieces of luggage do you have?”

“Just this.”

He nodded again. “Follow me, please.”

He led her through the sliding doors to the curbside area where the desert heat hit her like a punch. She followed him down the sidewalk, trailing like a lost puppy, feeling purposeless without her bag to hold on to. When he stopped next to a sleek black stretch limo, she let out a laugh.

Daphne was nestled in the corner with a glass of champagne in one hand and a crustless quarter of a sandwich in the other. “
Bonjour, ma chéri
e
!”

Rachel slid in beside her and was enveloped in a fierce hug. “Mighty fancy taxi service.”

Daphne waved the sandwich-holding hand like a queen greeting her subjects. “Taxi, schmaxy. My Rachel deserves only the best.” She opened a small door, revealing a mini-fridge. “Help yourself—it’s all stocked.”

“I haven’t eaten much this week,” Rachel admitted before diving into a sandwich. The car slid into the light as they pulled out from under the pick-up canopy, and Rachel settled back in her seat to watch the scenery of Las Vegas roll by as she ate.

Daphne nodded, a look of wisdom on her face. “Ah, yes, the post break-up/splitting-parents/druggie-friend blues often takes away one’s appetite.” She popped the remainder of her own sandwich into her mouth and finished off her drink. “So, we still doing the girls-night-in thing tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel said through a mouthful of sandwich. “I didn’t think I’d want to do anything, but now I realize I’m in Las Vegas and I’d be crazy not to go out and do
something.”

Daphne pumped a fist in the air. “Yes! Oh good. I thought it would do you good to cut loose for a little while.”

“Cut loose? I was just thinking, you know, shop at Caesars, blow some money on the slots, maybe take in a show. What were you thinking?”

Then Rachel saw the glint in Daphne’s eye and knew she wouldn’t be in bed before at least one in the morning. “Well, that depends,” Daphne said. “Does your luggage contain anything sparkly, satiny, velvety, form-fitting, and/or low-cut?”

Rachel smirked. “Do you really need to ask?”

Daphne grinned. “I didn’t think so.” She leaned forward and addressed the driver. “Excuse me, is there a mall nearby?”

“Yes ma’am, the Fashion Show.”

Rachel laughed. “That’s the name of the mall?”

Daphne winked. “This is Vegas, baby,” she said. Then, to the driver, “We’re going to take a detour.”

o

Shopping with Daphne was always an experience. Never did they wander without purpose between the racks, running their hands along rows of garments and occasionally checking a tag but never trying things on. No, Daphne considered every item, every style, even if it didn’t appeal to her at first glance. Her passion for clothes was obvious in her everyday dress, whereas Rachel was the poster child for conservative comfy-casual. But now, facing a fresh start in her life, Rachel was game for taking a few chances on her wardrobe. How lucky that her best friend was a professional personal shopper.

Daphne slurped her blended mocha and eyed Rachel as she modeled the last of the mountain of clothes they’d brought with them into the dressing room. “Bingo, darling. That dress looks like it was made for you. Do I know how to pick them or what?”

“It would appear you do know what you’re doing. I will agree.”

“Well, why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll take this all out to the register.”

Rachel frowned. “Wait—I’m not getting it all. There’s got to be close to two thousand dollars’ worth of clothing here.”

“Yes, but I get a discount.”

Rachel laughed. “Well, unless your discount brings the total down to two
hundred
, I’m going to have to pick and choose here.”

Daphne waved her hand. “No, no, it’s my treat.”

Rachel gasped. “What? Daphne—no way. That’s a
lot
of money.”

“But it’s my pleasure.” She gave a warm smile of sisterhood and sympathy. “Think of it as a very belated thank you for all the money your family spent on me when we were kids.”

Family.
The comment brought back the pain from the past weeks. How could the people who had been so loving back then be the same people who were separated now?

Daphne reached out to give Rachel’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m that transparent?” Rachel asked with a small smile.

“Twenty years, my friend. You’re like plastic wrap to me now.”

Rachel laughed and shimmied out of the dress she was still wearing. “Can’t keep a secret from you, I guess.”

“From me? Never.”

o

Dressed in a new skirt and blouse, Rachel felt a little more worthy of the limo. They gawked at the extravagant architecture on the strip until the car pulled into the driveway of the Paris Las Vegas Hotel. The driver ushered them from the car, then popped the trunk for the bellhop, who loaded their luggage and shopping bags onto a cart. They followed him into the foyer, where the sight of the lavish décor—gold-accented walls and rich oil paintings, breathtaking chandeliers and imposing pillars—stopped Rachel in her tracks. Daphne moved through the space as though it was nothing of interest and checked them in, then followed the bellhop to the elevator.

Sixteen stories up the bellhop opened their door and unloaded their bags onto one of the queen beds. Daphne pressed a few bills into his hand and closed the door behind him, then let loose with a squeal as she took a running leap onto the empty bed near the window. “Vegas, baby!” She whooped. “Check out this room!”

The blue, gold, and cream theme from the lobby was echoed in the room’s pale blue carpet and two-tone striped cream wallpaper. The TV cabinet, desk, and table were of rich dark wood, and the shimmery curtains were striped in blue and gold. A peek into the bathroom revealed cream marble counters and bathtub. Rachel joined Daphne on the bed and they gazed out at the strip below. “This is amazing.”

”Better believe it. And now we must vamoose for our beautifying appointment.”

Beautifying appointment?
Two hours in and already this trip was exactly what she needed.

o

That evening Rachel and Daphne arrived at the hotel’s best restaurant looking like new women. Well, Daphne looked perfect as always. But Rachel hardly recognized herself. Hair and makeup by a professional—and the new wrap dress Daphne had bought her made her look, and feel, like an adult for the first time. Earlier she had stared at her reflection in the hotel mirror, twirled and winked at herself—and had admitted to Daphne that she looked and felt good, even sexy. The only problem was that she also felt self-conscious. Very self-conscious. But, as Daphne admonished her, she’d just have to get over it.

The view from the restaurant window beside their table kept drawing Rachel’s eyes away from the menu. The lights, the marquees, the never-ending river of humanity that flowed along the sidewalk, all demanded her attention. She’d never experienced anything like it, and coupled with the feeling of being someone else—a sexier, more sophisticated Rachel—she was starting to think she’d stepped into some alternate reality. The concept was appealing.

“Wine?”

Rachel wrinkled her nose. “I guess.”

“Not a fan?”

“Never had it.”

“Still?” Daphne shook her head. “How have you avoided it for this long?”

“No one I hang out with drinks.”

“What
have
you tried?”

“Um …”

Daphne laughed. “Seriously? Okay then. I’ll order for you.” When the waiter returned Daphne ordered her a yellow submarine. “It’s like fruit punch,” she said when it was brought to the table. “But with a kick.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Fruit punch, huh? If you say so.” She took a cautious sip, bracing herself for what she was sure would be disgusting.

But it wasn’t. Instead, the sweet drink went down easily. She took another sip, then another. Daphne laughed.

“Wow. That good, eh?”

“You weren’t kidding.” Rachel fought the urge to down the whole thing in one gulp.

“Easy there,” Daphne said with a laugh when Rachel had drained half the glass in just a couple minutes. “Who knows how your system will handle it.”

“Right. You’re right.” Rachel pushed the glass away.

“So, I have a question,” Daphne said.

“Shoot.”

“How are you
really?”

Rachel gave her friend a half-smile. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Half the time I’m numb, the other half my mind is moving so fast and my emotions are in such upheaval that I feel like I’m falling off a cliff.”

“I noticed when we talked on the phone the other day, and even since you’ve been here, you haven’t mentioned God once. I think that’s a record for you, at least in my presence.”

Rachel winced. “I could really go overboard with the God talk, couldn’t I?”

Daphne smiled. “Sometimes.”

Rachel shrugged and folded her arms on the table. “I’m in as much turmoil over my relationship with God as I am over everything else that’s happened—precisely because everything
did
happen, you know?” She let her gaze wander back to the window to give herself a moment to quell the rising tears. When she regained control she looked back to Daphne with a shake of her head. “I don’t know who I am without my faith. It’s my foundation. Everything I’ve thought and done and ever said has gone through that filter. And now I don’t know what to do. Do I throw it all away? Do I soldier through and keep clinging to it even though it doesn’t make sense to me anymore?” Rachel shrugged and dropped her eyes to the bread plate in front of her. “I’m at a loss. A total, utter loss.”

Daphne was silent. Rachel appreciated that she didn’t jump in with a response. When was the last time Rachel had let someone simply sit with their emotions instead of tossing out quips about the Lord’s will and all things working together for good? How many of the people she’d “counseled” over the years had mentally rolled their eyes at her while sitting with heads bowed, presenting to be engaged.

After a time, Daphne began to speak in the tone and measure of someone choosing their words carefully. “You know, there are more ways to believe and have faith than just the way you were raised with. If you decided you no longer believed in the God you’ve grown up learning about, it doesn’t mean you’re left completely alone and unmoored. Faith can still be a huge part of your life—it can still be a defining characteristic of who you are.”