Scarlett slipped out of the crowd and into the kitchen, where she found Eric and Spencer collapsed on the floor, drinking some water.
“How’s it going?” she asked, trying not to look at Eric, or even really direct the question toward him. His presence was making her too crazy and queasy. “You scared me with that door trick.”
“Yeah,” Spencer said. “I just thought of that on the spot. I’m kind of glad it worked. Otherwise, I guess I’d be in the hospital or something. How do they seem?”
From the lobby, Scarlett could hear Mrs. Amberson’s low, smoky voice.
“Well,” she was saying. “They didn’t actually use it in the show. But I’ll tell you what it was later. It’s not really for mixed company…”
“Happy,” Scarlett said. “Entertained. I think Mrs. Amberson is telling her Chorus Line story for the five hundredth time.”
“We should go back,” Eric said, getting up. “Do some more party tricks.”
“I guess you’re right.” Spencer drained the last of his water. They picked up their cycles. As they walked out, Eric brushed against Scarlett ever so lightly. If it was anyone else, she would have thought it was an accident. But one thing she had learned living with Spencer and knowing the tricks—those little moves never were.
“Don’t think about it,” she said to herself quietly. “Do. Not. Think. About. It.”
When she stepped out, Mrs. Amberson immediately latched on to her and started introducing her around. She had clearly had a few glasses of champagne herself. Spencer and Eric decided to entertain the crowd with a fight this time, starting with a casual bump, like the one she’d just received. This escalated into slapping, and soon, the crowd had given them room to have a full-on smackfest. It was just a taste of what was coming later.
As an afterthought, Scarlett pulled out her phone and checked it. Three calls had come in—all from Lola. But there were no messages.
She tried calling her back, but there was no answer. There was something a bit disturbing about this.
“Everyone!” Mrs. Amberson called. “Please get your drinks refilled and take your seats again. Take a whole bottle in if you like! We’re about to start!”
Spencer staggered over in Scarlett’s direction, landing hard against the wall, close enough that she could clearly see him strike it with his hand and cushion himself against the blow.
“What’s the matter?” he mumbled under his breath. “Why are you staring at your phone like that?”
She clicked it shut.
“It’s nothing,” she said.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. It’s all good.”
He had no time to reply, because Eric grabbed him by the collar in an unexpected bit of extra comedy and threw him into the dining room. Then he shut one of the doors and stepped in front, out of view of the people in the room. He stayed there just a moment too long looking at Scarlett, until Mrs. Amberson swept past.
“Coming, O’Hara?” she said.
“I think I should…” She looked at her phone again. “I think I should stay out here.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She waved Eric inside, and slid the doors closed herself.
For the next hour, Scarlett sat at the desk, listening to the action and staring at her phone. She missed the big fight, but it was clear that the audience enjoyed it immensely. They were just burying Ophelia when Lola called again.
“Where have you been?” Lola asked. “I was trying to call you earlier…”
“In the show. What’s wrong?”
“We’re on our way home,” she said cheerfully, at normal volume. Someone else was obviously there. “Yeah, probably about a half an hour.”
Scarlett felt her heart tremble.
“Half an hour!” she hissed.
“Right!” Lola went on, using the same clear, chipper tone. “About a half an hour! It’s been a great day! But it’s raining! And we have to come in!”
“The show’s still going on,” Scarlett said. “Lola, do something.”
“Right…” Lola said, still faking her way along. “Yeah…I don’t know…”
“There are almost a hundred people here, Lola. There’s an ice sculpture on the front desk, which is now a bar.”
Dead air on Lola’s end for a moment.
“I see what you mean,” she said. She was still doing the happy voice, but there was a clear strain to it now. “I’ll see what I can do. Okay! See you soon! Clean up that big party you’ve been having!”
There was a pained fake laugh, and she hung up.
“Okay,” she said, glancing around quickly and settling on the caterers, who were slouched on some chairs in the corner. “I kind of need you guys to go. Now. As quick as you can.”
“I’ll take us fifteen minutes to bring the van around and find a place to park,” one of them said.
“Fifteen. Whatever. Just fast.”
They stared at her, a little slack-jawed. Scarlett wondered if she should just ask the caterers to beat her to death with the big, melting ice book. What did Mrs. Amberson do at times like this? Offer to pay people. Seem confident.