“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well it’s good for you, obviously, but what about Emma? Or Rachel. She’s already getting death threats now.”
Death threats? Jeez, what had people been saying to her? Sending a death threat to someone over a meme: legit crazy. Besides, Rachel hadn’t done anything wrong. And it took all of two seconds talking to her to realize how nice she was. My left hand clenched into a fist.
“Have you even told Emma?”
That brought me back to the moment. With a thud.
“Yeah.” I sighed.
“And?”
“She hung up on me.”
Ollie snorted.
“Dude.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just . . . what did you expect?”
“It wasn’t my idea, it was the producer’s. Anyway, I told her to come to Anderson’s tonight. Rachel, I mean. I figured we should, like, get to know each other. Before we have to do more stuff for the show.”
“You want someone to roll up with?”
This. This was why Ollie was the best ever, even now.
“That would be awesome, dude. Thanks.”
“No worries. Leave your car here and we can walk. He only lives a half mile from me.”
Ollie and I headed over to the party early, like eight thirty, but there were already a few dozen people milling around the kitchen, the keg jammed into a laundry bucket full of ice. I looked around for Rachel, but I didn’t see her.
Good. I needed to talk to Emma in person before Rachel showed up.
“I thought I told you not to come to this,” a low voice said from over my left shoulder. I looked at Ollie, hoping he could somehow save me from Lamont’s wrath, but he just shrugged and mouthed, “Get it over with.”
“Hey, Lamont.” I turned to face him. Man, I always forgot how big he was. “Sorry for the other day, I was being a tool.”
“You were born a tool, Kyle,” Lamont said, raising an eyebrow. “But I never took you for stupid.”
“I know.” I could feel my palm sweating against the neck of the bottle I was gripping. “That’s why I brought a peace offering. To make up for it.”
I swung the bottle around so Lamont could see the more-than-half-full liter of rum I’d pulled out of the back of Carter’s closet. No one hated having backup liquor around.
“I thought you might want it for later.” Lamont was still staring at me like I was dog crap he hadn’t scraped off his shoe yet. What would make him change his mind? Or at least not punch me? “Plus, chicks love doing shots, right?”
He leaned closer, so close I could smell his aftershave, minty and sharp beneath the musky cologne he was wearing. His fingers were twitching at his sides, like he was getting ready to do something he didn’t want me to see coming.
Oh, jeez. Stomach muscles: clenched in preparation.
He swung his arm around suddenly. I forced myself not to flinch. If he was gonna punch me, it was gonna hurt as bad as it was gonna hurt, whether or not I acted like a wimp.
But instead of concussing me, he reached for the rum. A wave of cold relief washed down my entire body, leaving my muscles shaky in its wake.
“Okay, we’re cool,” he said, a smile cracking his square, stubbly jaw. “I did tell you to bring chicks, though. Ollie’s pretty close, but I don’t think even I can drink that much.” He laughed, showing bright-white teeth. Ollie shrugged and leaned against the counter behind me.
“I did, actually. Just a couple junior girls.”
“Oh yeah? Where are they?”
“They’re coming.” What would plausibly explain why they hadn’t come with me? “I wanted to talk to you first to make sure we were cool before I had them come.”
“I hear that. Well, call your girls. If you parked on the street, move your car a couple blocks down so the cops don’t come. Woods behind the house and the fire pit are on-limits, pool is closed for the night. Anderson says it’s hell to clean puke out of the filters. Yo, Lu-SEEE,” Lamont yelled, turning away from me to bear-hug a stick-thin brunette in six-inch heels who had just tottered in the side door.
“All right, I guess we’re cool to stay,” I said to Ollie. I could feel myself grinning stupidly. Not getting your ass kicked: feels pretty good.
“Well, maybe,” he said, looking down the hallway toward the main entrance to the house.
My eyes followed his.
Emma was striding down the hall, flanked by three dance-team friends.
I could see her register me, her extra-fast blinking the only indication of the split-second of shock.
Then she turned and whispered something into Erin Rothstein’s mass of shiny blond curls. Erin cracked up, then pulled Jessie Florenzano’s arm so she could pass on Emma’s secret. Jessie’s dark-brown eyes widened. She turned over her shoulder to Willow Agners, who had been smiling with nervous eyes, waiting to see if she was the butt of the joke. All the while Emma watched them, serene, making sure I knew how in control she was.
Suddenly the night didn’t seem to be going as well as I had thought.
chapter twenty-seven