“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 laugh 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.”