Part 4 (1/2)

Gage rolled his eyes and sighed. ”Fine. Whatever. I'd only be the best you ever had, but your loss. Ivy's grandmother got sick toward the end of our soph.o.m.ore year, and she and Ivy were, like, really close, so Ivy decided to go to some school in Boston to be close to her. Then this summer the old lady croaked and voila. The prodigal b.i.t.c.h returns to Easton to wreak hav oc on all our lives.” He opened his palms toward the sky with a wry smile. ”Happy now?” he asked. Not exactly. This did not add up at all. Ivy as caring granddaughter? Ivy giving up her whole school life to be there for a member of her family? That so didn't track with the girl I knew. The girl who was always ready with an obnoxious comment. The girl who had tried to keep all of Easton out of the most exclusive party of the year. The girl who had allegedly bro ken into said grandmother's house intending to steal something. The girl who had dropped a guy who clearly liked her and gone after my guy before I'd had even a day to mourn our rela tions.h.i.+p. ”One more question,” I said, unable to stop myself. ”Make it quick. I have to take a p.i.s.s before my club meeting,” Gage said. Charming. ”Are Ivy and Josh... are they, like, seri ous?” I asked, filleting my heart down the middle and leaving it wide open to his answer. Gage looked at me for a moment, and for that one moment I swear I saw actual compa.s.sion in his eyes.

”Please. Ivy is never serious about anyone,” he said, standing. Then he turned and faced me and opened his arms. ”Besides, the girl does have a brain. She'll be coming back for more of this in no time.” Gag. But still. I hoped he was right.

”Has everyone come up with a guest list?” I asked that night. Via e-mail, I had reminded each of my Billings sisters that they were to create their own lists of invitees for the fund-rais er--friends, family, people with cash. We were getting down to the wire, so I hoped that every one had made time to work on it between cla.s.ses. ”Got it!” Portia announced, holding up her rhinestone-covered PDA as everyone else murmured their a.s.sent. ”Mine's handwritten. Is that bad?” Constance asked, biting her lip. ”It doesn't matter what format it's in as long as you have one,” I replied. ”Now I need someone to volunteer to compile them all and cross-refer ence for any duplicates. Volunteers?” ”I'll do it!” Kiki offered. Her mouth was full of the mini eclair she'd just popped into it, but I got the gist. Vienna had ordered up a few dozen delica cies from the French bakery in town, which were now being pa.s.sed around on silver platters.

”Great. Everyone get your lists to Kiki by the end of the night,” I directed. ”We'll also be inviting every Easton alumni under the age of sixty-five. Ms. Lewis e-mailed me the list today, and I'll forward that to you as well,” I told Kiki. ”Okay,” Kiki said, taking Constance's list. ”What do I do with all the addresses once I have them?”

”Actually, I was kind of hoping that maybe you and Astrid could come up with some kind of gorgeous e-mail invite to send to everyone,” I replied. ”We can mock it up now and then just add in the locations once we have them. Sound good?” ”I'm in!” Astrid announced. ”I just got this new design software from my dad that's still in prototype. It's killer,” Kiki added. Noelle sat forward in her chair and cleared her throat. ”E-mail? Really?” she asked, looking up at me like I had suggested fingerpainting the invites. ”Isn't that sort of gauche?” I felt my fingers start to curl. I had decided to go with her theme. Did she really have to contradict my one piece of in put in front of everyone? I mean, I know I had flirted with her man and all, but did that mean I was never going to get a say in anything ever again? No. I wouldn't let her step all over me that way. So I'd flirted with Dash. Last year she'd helped kidnap my boyfriend and had left him for dead. I'd say we were even. Until she found out about the fact that I'd almost slept with Dash. That might tip the scales in her view. But as of now, she didn't know about that.

”It's the fastest and cheapest way to reach everyone,” I told her patiently. ”If we have to get invitations printed and stamped and mailed, by the time the guests receive them, it will be two days before the party.” Noelle raised her palms. ”Point taken.” I let out a breath. See?

She wasn't trying to control things. She was simply voicing an opinion. Way to overreact, Reed. ”Okay, I think that's it for tonight,” I told the room. ”If anyone has any suggestions for us before we leave for New York on Sat.u.r.day, stop by my room and let me know.” The meeting broke up with everyone gabbing happily and comparing their lists, swiping a few more treats from the platters around the room. I suddenly felt too exhausted to move. It was difficult, keep ing up appearances and being a leader when my mind was on Josh and Hauer and a million other things. It took a lot out of me. Noelle stood, selected a small tart, and wrapped it in a linen napkin to bring with her upstairs. I had been hoping for a moment alone with her and was glad she had hung back from the crowd. ”I swear, with the amount of c.r.a.p we've been con suming at these meetings, the eating disorders in this place are about to skyrocket,” she joked. ”Noelle,” I said, wiping my palms on my wool skirt, ”have you heard anything about De tective Hauer meeting with Josh this afternoon?” Noelle smiled sympathetically. ”Worried about the boy who dumped you? You're so sweet.”

The boy who dumped me? I'd never told anyone that was how it had happened. Did she know, or did she just a.s.sume? Did she know more about that night than she had let on? ”I didn't-” ”I'm just messing with you,” Noelle said, stepping toward me. ”I heard it was just a rou tine questioning. Because apparently she used the same stuff to off herself as she used to mess with him. There's an obvious connection.” Obvious. Obvious that Cheyenne was a nut job who was capable of anything. Why wouldn't they just chalk her death up to suicide and let it go? ”Besides, didn't you say you both left campus before they had a chance to question you?” Noelle asked, arching her brows. ”Maybe they're just now catching up with Hollis as well. If, of course, that was really the reason for your visit with the police the other night.” My face turned warm. I felt as if she could see right into my brain. ”Right. That makes sense.”

Noelle smirked, then instantly s.h.i.+fted gears. ”Don't worry, Reed. He'll be fine,” she said kindly, soothingly. ”He can take care of himself.” ”I know.” Or maybe Ivy was taking care of him. ”Come on. You can help me with my Spanish. You're one of those dorks who love home work, right?” she joked, knocking me with her arm as she pa.s.sed me by ”I'll be right up,” I told her. I hoped she was right--I hoped Josh was fine without me--but the idea that he could be only made my heart ache worse. As much as I was trying to move on and cling to my anger with him over Ivy, I hated not knowing what was going on with him. I hated not being able to be there for him. I hated myself for doing this to us.

LIFE AFTER HOLLIS.

I had never been inside a Drake Hall common room before. It was nice. Cozy. There was a fire in the old stone fireplace, big leather chairs all around the room, and the walls were pan eled in dark wood. It had the feel of a mountain lodge. Not that I'd ever been to a mountain lodge, but I imagined this was how it would feel. Unlike the common room on Josh's floor in Ketlar, there was no big-screen TV or boys shouting over a round of Guitar Hero in the cor ner. The few guys dotted around the room were studying, carrying on whispered debates. This was where the real students lived.

”So, where are you from, anyway?” I asked Marc. I leaned over the open Tupperware box on the table between us, chose one of the flaky, homemade desserts his mother had sent him, and leaned back in my comfy leather chair. ”We're supposed to be interviewing you,”

Marc reminded me. ”I'm bored of me,” I replied. ”Let's talk about you for a while.” Marc smiled and turned off the recorder, which sat next to the Tupperware. ”I have one more question first, off the record,” he said. ”Sure,” I replied, licking some powdered sugar from my lower lip. Whatever I was eating was d.a.m.n good. ”Is this an interview or a date?” he asked. My heart skipped a surprised beat. ”What makes you think it's a date?” Marc looked at the floor and rubbed his hands together shyly. He glanced up with a tentative expression. ”Constance said something about a list....”

I laughed and finished off my little pastry. ”Trust Constance to stick her nose in. So maybe it is a date.” I didn't want it to be a date. Not really. I didn't want to be on a date with anyone other than Josh. But that was what this was supposed to be. So I said it. ”Is that okay with you?” His eyebrows shot up. ”Very okay.” I felt a bit guilty after that. Like I was giving him false hope. But I soldiered on. ”Good. So where are you from?” I asked again, reaching for an other pastry. ”Miami,” he replied. I paused mid-bite. When I thought of Miami, I thought of neon lights, hot pink spandex, and loud music. Marc was none of these things. His very being screamed New Englander. ”Really? But you're so--” ”Preppy? Ambitious? Sober?” he sup plied. ”Okay,” I said.

”I never really fit in there,” he told me. He leaned back in his chair and laid his arms on top of the chair arms, then started to tap a beat on the front of them with both hands. ”My older brother, Carlos, was born to live there. All my friends wors.h.i.+pped him because he, you know, raced cars and knew all the bouncers and had a different girl over every night and never seemed to actually work a day. They thought he was the coolest thing ever. I just thought it was sad. I couldn't wait to get out of there.” ”Wow,” I said. ”Too much information?” he asked.

”No. Not at all. It just sounds familiar,” I replied.

”You have a s.l.u.tty, drag-racing older brother?” Marc joked. I laughed and reached for my coffee cup. ”No. Not that part. Just the part where you couldn't wait to get out of there.” ”Didn't fit in out there in central Pennsylvania?” he asked. My paranoia flared instantly. ”How did you know where I was from?” ”Reed, I'm a reporter. I'm doing a story on you. Come on,” he said, turning his palms up. ”I thought the story was more about Billings.” ”Yeah, and you're pres ident of Billings. The girl who's singlehandedly trying to save it,” Marc said. Like, duh. ”You're kind of central to the story.” ”Oh. Right.” I laughed.

And as I laughed I realized that I only ever laughed anymore when I was with Marc. I looked at him and he looked at me and I felt nothing. Zero tingle. Zero attraction. Zero emo tion. He wasn't Josh, but I liked being with him. It made me forget the other stuff. There was a definite possibility that this guy could be a good friend. ”So. How big's your scholars.h.i.+p?” he asked with a wry smile. ”Like I'd ever tell you that,” I responded, and smacked his arm lightly.

”I'll get it out of you eventually,” he told me, reaching for one of the pastries. ”It's what I do.” I sipped my coffee and settled in. We spent the next hour talking about how surreal it was to be at Easton without trust funds behind us. Our hopes of breaking into the Ivy League. The crazy birthday gifts our parents cobbled together during leaner years. In the end it was one of the most enjoyable nights I'd had in recent memory. And he didn't even try to kiss me at the door. As I strolled away from Drake Hall, I felt somehow lighter. I knew that there was definitely going to be life after Josh Hollis. Maybe not with Marc, but with someone. Someday. Maybe even soon. It was actually possible.

Friday night was movie night at Billings--at least, for those who didn't have dates or visiting parents. As I approached my dorm, I saw the dim glow of the plasma screen through the front window of the parlor and knew that most of my friends were inside, riveted to whatever words of wisdom Cameron Diaz or Reese Witherspoon were imparting this week. I yanked open the outer door of the dorm and paused. The inner door was ajar, propped open with the bronze doorstopper that was only ever used on move-in day to facilitate the pa.s.sage of huge suitcas es and trunks. The red security light on the keycard slot was blinking and emitting a low, inef fective beep, annoyed that the door had been ajar for too long. What was it doing open? And why hadn't anyone noticed?

I stepped inside and nudged the heavy doorstopper aside with my foot, then quietly closed the door. I could see Sabine, Constance, and Kiki sitting in the parlor with their hair spilling over the back of one of the couches. Nothing seemed amiss. Part of me wanted to go in there and ask them about the door, but if I did, I knew that Constance would pump me for the de tails of my date, so instead I quickly slipped upstairs. Big mistake. The second I opened the door to my room, I froze. Literally. It was freezing inside. Something moved in the dark. Fear instantly overcame me and I slammed the door, pressing myself up against the wall outside. Someone was in there. Someone was in my room. My heart was in my throat. Why would someone be skulking around in my room in the dark? Were they leaving another surprise for me? Or did they have something even worse planned? Whoever was in there knew I was out here now. We were playing a waiting game. Him or her in there. Me out here. Who would crack first?

Ever so slowly, I turned and pressed my ear to the door to see if I could hear the culprit moving around inside. I held my breath. There was nothing. Dead silence. Was this person on the other side of the door right now... listening for me? Why were they doing this to me? What had I done to deserve this? Down the hall, a door opened and laughing voices emerged. I looked up to find Lorna and Missy walking out of the Twin Cities' room with a bunch of folded blankets. They stopped in their tracks at the sight of me still bundled in my coat, my gloved hands pressed into the door along with my left ear. ”What are you doing?” Missy asked with a sneer. Freaking out. Losing my mind. Having a panic attack. ”Someone's in my room,” I whis pered. ”Sabine?” Lorna asked at full voice. I felt so desperate I wanted to cry. But at least I had backup now. At least if I opened the door, they would see there was someone in there too. I'd have witnesses. ”No. Sabine's downstairs,” I whispered hoa.r.s.ely. ”I think someone's sneaking around my room.” ”Like who?” Missy asked. ”Everyone's in the parlor.” I pressed my lips together. I hated that of all the people in Billings, it was Missy who had to be here for this, but she was better than no one. ”I don't know. Maybe someone from outside Billings,” I said, thinking of the open door. ”Will you guys please just go in there with me? ”

Lorna looked a little freaked, but she nodded resolutely. ”Sure.” ”Thanks.” I turned slowly, trying not to make any noise, and silently turned the k.n.o.b. ”One, two, three,” I whispered. Then I flung the door open. Wide open. And braced myself for some kind of attack. I didn't even realize I had closed my eyes until Missy shoved me aside from behind and I was startled into looking around. ”There's no one in here,” she said, flicking on the light. She was right. The room was deserted. ”No, but it's freezing,” Lorna added. She dropped the blankets onto my bed and walked across to my window, which was wide open. The wind coming through the ever-present screen sent the curtains billowing into the room. The curtains. That must have been what I had seen. The curtains moving.

As Lorna slammed and locked the window, my face burned with embarra.s.sment. I was turning into a paranoid freak. And Missy Thurber and Lorna Gross had been there to witness it. ”There's no one in the bathroom, either,” Lorna said, checking it. I turned and checked both closets, now almost hoping I'd find some psycho lurking about. Anything to make me look like less of a paranoid delusional nutcase. But there was nothing. ”You don't get enough attention around here?” Missy said with a smirk. ”Now you have to create fake stalkers? Poor, poor President Reed. Always such a victim.” ”You know, you're even uglier on the inside than you are on the outside,” I snapped. Missy's jaw dropped. For a split second I actually thought she was going to cry, and I didn't even care. I was too pent up, frustrated, and embarra.s.sed to care. And besides, why did she always have to be so rude? She had no idea what was going on in my life. No clue. And did she care? No. She just lived to attack me. ”You are such a b.i.t.c.h,” she said through her teeth. ”You may have everyone else around here snowed, but I know the nice-girl thing is all an act, and sooner or later you're going to get yours, Reed. Just wait.” She stomped out of my room with her blankets, leaving Lorna hovering behind. Was that a threat? Had Missy just threatened me? And why had she used the word stalker? I hadn't said anything about a stalker. Just that I thought someone was in my room. Did she know I had a stalker because she was the stalker?

Fab. Now my brain was starting to hurt. ”Are you okay?” Lorna asked me quietly. ”Yeah,” I said, catching my breath. ”I'm fine. I'm just going to... get ready for bed.” ”Okay.” Lorna picked up her blankets and went after Missy. I closed the door and rechecked everything, just to be safe. The bathroom, the closets, under the beds. Nothing seemed amiss. I took a deep breath and tossed my coat on the hook behind the door. Then I turned to my dresser for my pajamas and froze. No. Couldn't go in there. No drawers. Rationally, I knew that all I had seen were the moving curtains, but I was irrationally scared anyway. I pulled my sweater off over my head and glanced at the closet. No. Couldn't go in there either. Feeling childish, I folded my sweater and placed it atop my closed laptop. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. Beaten down by my own paranoia. I didn't want to wash my face or brush my teeth or check my e-mail or do anything. My bag for tomorrow was already packed, sitting on the floor at the end of my bed. If I went to sleep, I could wake up and go to New York. Get out of here and not see this room for two whole days. Two whole days in a place that didn't know me. Two whole days in a town where Cheyenne's memory couldn't haunt me. Two whole days where whoever was messing with me couldn't reach me. New York. The words were like a promise. I would feel less crazy there. I knew I would. Jeans and T-s.h.i.+rt still on, I crawled un der the covers and, leaving the overhead light blazing, attempted to get some sleep.

POWER TRIP.

The lobby of the exclusive Gramercy Park Hotel was like something out of a modern-goth Alice in Wonderland, with its checkerboard floors, abstract art, ornate chandeliers, and dark stone walls. Yet it was somehow cozy. Comfortable. Welcoming. In two words it was this: Not Billings. I felt myself start to breathe easier as we stepped further inside. There was a couple at the front desk surrounded by piles of b.u.t.tery leather luggage, a tiny dog peeking out from the woman's handbag. A group of men in tailored suits strode by us in heated conversation, clearly on their way to some high-powered brunch, and they all stopped talking to check us out as they went by. One even surrept.i.tiously snapped our picture with his phone, which Lon don and Vienna automatically posed for. This was not the kind of clientele one might find at the Super 8 in Croton. This place oozed glamour. I wondered what our suite would be like. Imagined a sumptuous bed I could sink into and sleep in for real. For hours and hours and hours without dreams. I shook my head. I had a long day ahead of me in the most exciting city in the world, and suddenly, all I wanted to do was go to bed. ”Miss Simmons, Miss Clarke, good to see you again,” the bellboy--who was way too cute to be a bellboy--greeted them as he loaded our bags onto a cart. ”I'll take this up to your suite. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

London looked at the rest of us expectantly. ”Should we lunch out, or have them bring something to our room?” ”Lunch? It's ten-thirty in the morning,” I pointed out. ”And we have appointments to keep.” ”So we'll do brunch,” Vienna said, sinking into a red velvet chaise. She leaned back and kicked her heels off. ”G.o.d, it's so good to be home.” ”Home? But you don't live here.” Sabine said it like a question, glancing around almost warily. Apparently, she didn't feel as comfortable here as I did. London and Vienna laughed. So did the bellboy. ”Prac tically,” they said in unison. ”You can take our things up,” Noelle told the bellboy, handing him a few crisp bills from her Louis Vuitton wallet. ”We'll let you know if we need anything else.”

As the bellboy silently disappeared, Noelle sat down on the chaise near Vienna's feet and slid her arms out of her coat. ”I say we head up to Sarabeth's for brunch, then hit Bloomingdale's and Dylan's. I'm definitely going to need chocolate later.”

”OmiG.o.d, totally!” London squealed, perching on the edge of a round-backed love seat.

”And Sarabeth's has that French toast with the--” ”You guys, we can't go out for brunch right now,” I said, hovering with Sabine as the three of them got comfy. ”We have an appointment to see the Regent in half an hour, then another at the studio at eleven-fifteen. I blocked out time for lunch at twelve-thirty.” ”What are you, auditioning to be a cruise director? ” Vienna joked, checking out a sungla.s.sed couple as they walked by to see if they were anyone worth seeing. ”Yeah, Reed, why don't you just relax?” Noelle suggested. ”This is a vacation. And be sides, I went to a wedding at the Regent last year, and they tried to pa.s.s off this c.r.a.p caviar from Maine or some G.o.dawful place as something decadent. People were spitting it out into their napkins all night.” She, London, and Vienna all snickered like they were in on some in side joke, which just made me feel uncomfortable. Sabine as well, if I was reading her closedoff body language correctly. There was no way I was going to let Noelle completely hijack this weekend. I needed her input, definitely, but she wasn't going to tell me how to run this whole thing ”You guys, this is not a vacation,” I said pointedly. ”We're here to plan a fund-raiser to save Billings, remember? And I don't care about the caviar, because I wasn't planning on serv ing any anyway. So get your b.u.t.ts in gear. We've got appointments to keep.” Vienna and London looked at each other, and Vienna pushed herself up in her chaise, rolling her eyes. ”G.o.d, Reed. You sound like my mother,” she said. But she grabbed her black cashmere coat and stood. ”As long as we get to Dylan's at some point today, I'm happy,” Lon don said with a shrug. ”Now that you brought it up, I can't stop thinking about their cappuccino gelato. Dee-vine. ” Noelle eyed me as the Twin Cities b.u.t.toned their coats and smoothed their hair. I knew she couldn't believe she'd just been unceremoniously snubbed, and I felt a quick rush of triumph. I was in charge now. She was just going to have to get used to it. With a heavy sigh, Noelle finally arose and picked up her coat. ”All right, then. We'll go. But it is an ut ter waste of time.” ”We'll call up the car!” London announced, grabbing Vienna's arm as they traipsed off toward the front desk. Noelle slowly belted her black coat and looked at me with narrow-eyed interest. ”You really are enjoying this power trip you're on, aren't you, Gla.s.s-Lick er?” ”Just doing my job,” I said with a forced smile.

She smirked and strolled off after the Twin Cities, leaving me alone for the moment with Sabine .Her brows knit as she adjusted her new, very trendy white cloche hat. ”Why does she call you Gla.s.s-Licker?” she asked. I paused, letting the memory of my first-ever conversation with Noelle wash over me for a moment. Letting myself relish the fact that even though she couldn't give up the nickname, our positions in life had completely changed. So much so that the insulting moniker was starting to feel like a joke. An homage to times gone by. A term of endearment. Somehow, it didn't hold the same power it used to. ”It's a long story,” I told Sabine, looping my arm through hers the way London and Vienna were always doing. ”Along, stupid story.”

”Oh my G.o.d, Vienna! I thought Etienne was going to die when he realized you let some one else trim your bangs!” London cried as we stepped out of the Lange family's chauffeured limo somewhere on West Thirteenth Street. A stiff wind nearly blew me off my feet, and a pair of NYU boys eyed us with interest as they strolled by. ”I think he actually cried. I swear I saw a tear,” I added. ”Well, that's what he gets for refusing to come up to Easton every week to shape me,” Vienna said blithely, flicking her hair away from her face. ”I even offered to pay for his transportation, but no. He simply cannot be away from the city for an entire afternoon,”

she added, putting on Etienne's thick French accent. ”It would mean disastre!” We all laughed, slightly high on the triumphs of the morning. Not only had the proprietor at Ta.s.sos's studio of choice practically bent over backward to accommodate us once we'd dropped the photographer's name, but Vienna had guilted the owner of her salon into canceling all his ap pointments for next Sat.u.r.day afternoon so that we could rent out the entire facility. We'd even had a chance to swing by Dylan's Candy Bar to load up on sugar. So far I'd consumed almost half a pound of gummy bears and a Wonka Bar. I was having actual fun, and had hardly thought of Josh or Cheyenne or Ivy all day. So far, so perfect.

”He should know better,” Noelle sniffed as she looked up and down the sidewalk, trying to pinpoint our destination. ”You and your sister have been his most loyal clients ever since you first sprouted hair.” ”I forgot you had a sister,” Sabine said to Vienna, hugging herself against the cold. ”Will we get to meet her at the fund-raiser?” ”Are you kidding? She practically peed in her pants when I told her about Frederica Falk and the photo shoot. She already sent me her donation,” Vienna said. ”What about your sister, Sabine? Did you invite her?” I asked.

”She's out of the country right now,” Sabine replied, her face brightening at the subject. ”But she so wishes she could come. I think she--” ”Where is this place?” Noelle asked, interrupting Sabine. Quite rudely, I thought. ”I can never remember which entrance...” Suddenly, a plain black door right in front of us opened and out stepped the single most perfect specimen of manhood I had ever laid eyes on outside a movie theater. He was tall, with highlighted blond hair, golden stubble all along his cut cheekbones, and blue eyes that could cut steel. His suit was black, his s.h.i.+rt a pristine, crisp white that was opened one extra b.u.t.ton to show the top of his tanned chest. For a moment none of us breathed.

”Reed Brennan?” he asked with an inquisitive smile. London had to forcibly shove me for ward. ”That would be me,” I said to the supermodel. His smile widened and he opened the door further. ”Welcome to Suite 13.” ”I don't care where we have this thing, we're hiring this guy as our doorman,” I whispered to my friends. ”I second that!” Vienna offered. Giggling like girls at a tea party, we hustled inside. ”I'm Lucas, the a.s.sistant manager of Suite 13,” Mr. Hot said as he led us down a dimly lit hallway with red-gla.s.s lamps hanging from the ceiling. He of fered me his hand to shake. It was warm, strong, and very large. ”Here at the suite, we pride ourselves on being one of the most versatile s.p.a.ces in all of Manhattan. With our high ceil ings, moveable booths, and huge square footage, we can turn our suite into anything your heart desires.”

We came out onto a balcony with two staircases on either side, descending at a curve to a large, pitlike room. There were huge bars on either side, and round, suede booths in dark jew el tones dotted the room, surrounding a gleaming black dance floor. I could just imagine the place decorated with dark floral centerpieces and swags of cloth, flashbulbs popping, and champagne flowing. It was incredible. ”Oh, no,” Noelle said under her breath. ”Yeah. I know,”

Vienna replied. ”Not good.” ”What's going on?” I asked. ”Is there a problem?” Lucas added, gripping the railing with one hand. ”No. Not at all,” Noelle replied smoothly, tossing her hair over her shoulders. ”I just need to confer with my friends for a moment.” ”Take your time,” Lu cas replied. He moved a few feet off and whipped out his Treo. Noelle tugged my arm, lead ing all four of us into the tiny alcove outside the bathrooms. ”We can't have it here,” she whis pered. ”Why not? I like it,” I replied.