Behind the table, a man and a woman dressed in black suits rise as we approach. “Welcome to the Astor Park Prep Winter Formal,” chirps the lady. “Name, please?”
“Wade Carlisle and Ella—” He stops and looks at me questioningly. “Royal? Harper? O’Halloran?”
“I have an Ella Harper.” The woman holds out a silk bag and a mini bottle of sparkling cider with my name on it.
“What’s this?” I ask slowly.
Wade grabs everything and moves me away from the table so the couple behind us can get their goodies. He tucks the bottles in one pocket and the silk bags in the other. “You’re given five hundred dollars’ worth of chips to play in here.”
“Here” ends up being a room filled with felt-covered gaming tables and so many people that I feel a bit suffocated. The girls are beautifully dressed, most of them wearing slinky gowns with slits up the side. The guys are wearing black tuxes. It looks like a movie set.
“I wish Val was here,” I whisper.
I think Wade says, “Me, too,” but I’m not completely sure.
“So I use the chips to play these games?” I wave a hand toward the casino tables, trying to take both our minds off our missing friend.
“Yep, and then you bid on stuff.”
We wander in. There are two tables—one where kids are playing poker and another where they’re playing blackjack. “What kind of stuff?”
“Trips, jewelry, experiences.”
“Who pays for it?”
“It’s all donated. But your chips are paid for by a parent or guardian, I guess.”
“Is this why there’s no dancing?” Deeper in the room, I see a table full of purses, envelopes, and baskets. It looks like a raffle table at a bingo hall, only much nicer.
“There’s dancing in the dinner area.”
I vaguely recall a small open square in the middle of the tables. “But that space is so small.”
“No one dances.”
Well, duh. Who wants to dance when you could gamble? “When did this start?”
“Maybe ten years ago?” Wade slaps the hands of one of the football players as we pass by. “None of the guys danced, and a huge number of them just stopped coming altogether, so some smarty set this casino thing up. Boom, boys were back in town.”
We stop in front of a table. The items range from purses to jewelry to placards with the words Aspen and Las Vegas and Puerto Vallarta written on them. Those must be the experiences Wade referenced. “None of these is five hundred,” I tell him, pointing to the bolded numbers on the bottom of each explanation sheet.
“Right, well, you’re supposed to win the chips and then your date’s supposed to give you his.”
“That’s not sexist,” I mutter under my breath.
Wade snorts. “Astor Prep’s not real enlightened. You’re just figuring that out?”
I wonder if this is why Val didn’t come. On top of the dress, there’s the added cost of buying five hundred dollars’ worth of chips to buy what I presume to be worthless stuff. “Sucks if you’re a scholarship student.”
Wade frowns. “You don’t have to play.”
I turn to inspect the room. “I don’t see Liam Hunter here, either. Isn’t he a scholarship student like Val?”
“Huh.” Wade’s eyes widen as the realization sinks in of who exactly attends these charity dances.
The whole setup reeks of rich kids keeping the poor kids out, and some of the magical gauze that covers the place is torn away.
Impatiently, I check the door. “Where’s Reed?” Everything’s more tolerable when he’s around. Only if he has his way, he won’t be around much longer.
I shove that depressing thought aside.
Wade shrugs. “He’ll be late. Jordan likes to make an entrance.”
31
Reed
“You’re late,” Jordan snaps as she throws open the mansion’s door.
I check my watch. “A whole minute late,” I answer, rolling my eyes. And even though her sharp tone scrapes across my nerves, this devil’s bargain Ella made was so fucking worth it. It’s not going to kill me to be civil. “Are you ready to go?” I ask politely.
Jordan’s gaze rakes over me. “Where’s your gold tie?”
That’s not the question I expected. I peer down at the black one hanging down my front. “I don’t think I own a gold tie.”
Her eyes narrow into thin strips. “Part of the deal is that you wear a gold tie to match my dress.”
I follow her hand as she Vanna Whites it down her body, which is wrapped in what looks like gold tissue. Really thin gold tissue. Holy hell, are her nipples visible? I try not to stare, but it’s not easy.
I catch a glimpse of Jordan’s smug face as I avert my eyes.
“Like what you see?”
“Your tits? Every girl’s got a pair, Jordan.”
Her smirk turns to a sneer. “Tell Ella the deal’s off and she still owes me.”
The door starts to close on my face. I slap my hand on the wood frame and push my way in. Be nice, Reed. It’s not going to kill you to be nice to this chick.
“You look nice,” I manage to grind out.