Two years away at UW. Not four. I should’ve been graduating the next spring, but instead I was in a clearance dress in the only fine dining establishment in all of Orting, Washington. A tiny little farming valley, our only claim to fame was that if Mt. Rainier ever blew up we’d all be dead. The town was built over an ancient mudflow. Perfect for farming. The town had basically one road in, and one road out, on either end of the valley.
I was pretty sure it was made to trap people. But not in a volcano sort of way, in a more figurative one. We were just isolated enough that people forgot to dream of taking on the world, of traveling, of accomplishing something outside of this place.
“Ugh, you’re getting that look again,” Annie said, frowning.
I blinked. “What look?”
“The whole ‘woe is me, I should be a nuclear physicist by now,’” she said, twirling the straw in her drink.
I gave her an entirely different sort of look. “Chemist,” I said.
“The only chemistry you need to be worried about is the kind you have with that bartender,” she said, nodding to the guy behind the counter. “He’s been staring directly at your rack. You might as well have a homing beacon in that dress.”
I glanced over my shoulder, taking in the tall blond behind the bar. His white dress shirt and maroon vest did fit nicely across his shoulders. “He’s been staring at you,” I said. “He totally brushed your hand when he brought us our drinks.”
He was a little too lanky and a lot too smiley for my taste. He was like a shiny Disney prince or something. “You should definitely go for it,” I told her. “He’s cute.”
“Nah, I think we should sample the options before committing.”
I raised a brow and gestured around the room. “In case you didn’t notice, this place is dead.”
“Only out here.” She nodded over my head, where a curtain was drawn halfway across a wide entry. Voices hummed, laughter trickling out over our booth. I twisted around to get a better view, but the curtain blocked most of it. Judging by the sliver I could see, at least fifty people were back there.
I turned back to Annie. “You wanna crash?”
“Let’s just check it out,” she said, lighting up. “You’re all dressed up, might as well find somewhere to go. It’ll be like old times. Please?”
“Old times” being our high school habit of crashing parties we were never invited to, because we were too far down the social ladder.
Half the time, they were my brother’s parties. Not that it mattered; I still wasn’t invited.
Annie and I had quickly learned the two-fold key points to successful party crashing: 1) There has to be enough people that you can get lost in a crowd. And 2) You always, always act like you belong.
Maybe it was the drink talking, or the dress, or the delicious aroma of whatever food they had laid out in back, but I was suddenly feeling bold. I sucked down the rest of my drink, warmth unfurling inside. “Fine. Yeah. Let’s do it. But I’m going to need another drink.”
Annie squealed and slid out of the booth, following me up to the bar. It was red, lit from below so it glowed. The place reminded me of a movie theater.
The bartender, having predicted what we’d want, slid two new drinks toward us. He winked at Annie and she giggled. I resisted the urge to tell her once again how he was totally into her.
“Thanks,” I said, picking up mine and sucking down half of it before following Annie toward the back. She met my eyes and clinked her glance to mine, as if to say here goes nothing, before stepping past the privacy curtain.
The back room was larger than I expected, with at least a dozen tables, plus the buffet set up against one wall. Groups of well-dressed people circled around tall tables, meant for standing and small talk.
Good. Rule number one covered—there were enough people that we could blend in.
“They have bacon-wrapped water chestnuts,” Annie murmured, dragging me over to the spread of food. “Have you ever had these before? They’re SO good!”
I elbowed her. “Shh,” I said.
“Right, right.” She glanced over her shoulder, way too conspicuous. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done this. Sorry.”
We grabbed a small plate each, moving down the line and piling them high with snacks. I discreetly checked to see if anyone noticed—or cared—that two girls just showed up to pillage their food.
“I wonder what this is for,” I whispered under my breath. “Everyone’s so dressed up.”
It was a good thing Annie talked me into wearing the dress, because my jeans would’ve gotten us kicked out of here in thirty seconds.
“Let’s snag that table,” Annie said, dragging me over to a booth in the corner. I slid around the curved leather seat, taking in the room in full as I bit into a stuffed mushroom.
“Oh my god this is so good,” Annie said. “It tastes like heaven.”
“It tastes like money,” I said, growing curious. The cheese was sharp and smoky, the mushroom drizzled in truffle oil.
“Well that’s not tacky,” she said, giggling.
“I just mean… it makes me wonder what kind of event this is. A little high-brow for Orting, don’t you think?