Page 56 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“Perfect,” Del beamed, “I’ve alwayswantedwhite ducks at my wedding instead of doves.”

“Are you actually serious about this?”

“Yes.”

“What about you?” I swung my attention around to her fiancé. “Surely you planned on a big wedding with a band and a caterer and more guests than your best friend and your niece.”

Tabitha wordlessly put drinks in front of everyone, and I made the mistake of downing mine without looking. The tequila burned down my throat and Tabitha let out a loud cackle. “I was going to cut up a lime to go with that.”

“Think about it, Cordelia,” Del said, clasping Beck’s hand in her lap, “we’ve talked it through, all theifs andbuts. We just need to know if you’d be comfortable with us having the wedding here.”

“I’ll sleep on it,” I promised.

“I have to take this.”I pushed away from the table, phone in hand, and slid my half-eaten piece of birthday cake over to Cordelia. She barely looked up, too deep into some made-up game that involved a deck of Uno cards, three dice and Defne’s Tamagotchi. I had somehow lost in the first round when I chose to eat a green jelly bean over a yellow one - but Cordelia seemed completely in her element.

Which made it even harder to get up and leave her. Her enjoying the company of others was new, and it was captivating.

“Keep it short,” I told Luka, once I made it to the winter garden and slid the glass door shut behind me.

“Thanks, I’m doing great. My face no longer looks like a horse trampled around on it. Apology accepted.” Sarcasm dripped from his every word.

“I’m not apologizing.”

“Of course not,” Luka scoffed. “You’re on the card in two weeks, Atlantic City.”

I wasn’t sure what a stroke felt like, but the sudden sharp burst in my temple had to come close. “It’s too soon. I haven’t even taken the drug tests yet.” The words sounded hollow even to my own ears. As if Piotr Yelchin needed to follow some official anti-doping rulebook. He’d grease the right hands and suddenly official records showed that I was clean.

“You’re fighting Chapman.”

I didn’t give a flying fuck who I’d have to fight. I sat down on the small pink sofa and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Main event?”

“No.”

“Main card?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Fine.” Could have kept it a secret a little longer if they had pushed me into the opening rounds, which didn’t even get TV coverage. Being part of the main fights meant my name was going to be out there again. I glanced through the glass door at the group of girls yelling at each other over the glittering Tamagotchi, Cordelia waving an Uno Reverse card through the air. I dragged myself away and dropped onto the plush lounge chair instead. “When’s the announcement going up?”

“Tomorrow.” Luka heaved a sigh on the other line as if he was the one about to get in the octagon. “My father expects you to win this one.”

“I figured.” There could be weeks if not months between fights. Winning this one would open the doors to much biggerevents later this year. Those were likely the events Petya was actually interested in.

“He was pushing for Vegas in four weeks, for no other reason than showing off. I figured AC is easier. I’ll drive you back right after the fight. You’ll be home for breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Because I do owe you more than a car.”

With those words the line went dead. At least he’d finally confirmed what I’d known for months. Fucking snitch. Not that it mattered much anymore.

I stared at the black phone screen, as if it would give me instructions on how the hell I was supposed to break the news to Cordelia, but my reflection only blinked back at me.

“There you are.” Cordelia slipped through the sliding door and shut it behind her, only to lean back against it and offer me a smile. She was wearing a ridiculously puffy and dangerously short dress that made her look like a marshmallow with long, smooth legs. Forget about the marshmallow part, I wanted those long legs wrapped around my hips again. “I had a pair of fives and then the Tamagotchi didn’t eat the salad.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but from her tone, I guessed that she was out of the game. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, well, it’s fine,” she sighed and walked over, each step quieted by her slouchy fuzzy socks that somehow didn’t take away from the fact that I wanted those ankles crossed behind my back. “What are you doing?”

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