It was like some kind of hunting call. All over the patio people stopped to lift their plastic cups or jump as high as they could and yell “Spring break!” in response. She giggled and held up her own cup, a half second too late. “Yeah, spring break!” she shouted, leaning against the guy in the muumuu.
“So what’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m Amber.” She beamed.
The guy in the muumuu couldn’t seem to track her very well—he was almost as drunk as she was pretending to be. “Where you from, Amber?”
“I’m down from UNLV,” she chirped.
“UNLV?” he boomed. “Hey, Trang. Trang! You said you’re from UNLV, right? Do you know Amber?”
Trang, who’d done his hair in a Hawaiian Elvis pompadour and wore a crushed carnation lei, stared at her with red-veined eyes, swaying slightly on his feet. “Huh?”
“It’s such a big school,” Veronica cooed. “What’s your major, Trang?”
“Undeclared,” he mumbled. “Maybe econ.”
“Oh, I’m in the history department.” She stared around the little group, her hand still on the first guy’s arm. “This is so cray. I’ve never seen a house this big in my life. Whose party is this anyway?”
They all shook their heads.
“Guy down at the boardwalk invited me,” said Trang. “After I gave him some E.”
“Yeah, I got the nod after the rap battle,” said a skinny boy with plastic-framed glasses and a yachting cap. “Some kid with dreadlocks said I should come, that he liked my rhymes.”
“So none of you know the host?” Veronica stared around the circle. “You just heard about it?”
“Yup,” said the guy in the muumuu. “It’s just, like, whoever throws the party sends a dude around looking for cool people. And if you’re cool enough to be noticed, you get in.”
“So awesome!” Veronica chirped. “But oh my gosh, you guys, did you hear about the girl who went missing last week? Someone in the pool room just told me she disappeared from this house. Isn’t that scary?”
“Someone went missing?” The guy in the yachting cap looked startled. “I didn’t hear that.”
“Yeah, dude, her picture’s on that billboard over by the Cabo Cantina? She’s dead sexy,” said the guy in the muumuu.
“She was at this party last Monday, and no one saw her after that,” Veronica chimed in. “None of you guys were here that night, were you?” She gave an exaggerated shiver. “So scary!”
“Shit, no. Last Monday I was popping Adderall and studying statistics all night.” He snorted. “Our spring break didn’t start till Monday.”
The feedback of a microphone interrupted their conversation. They all looked up to see a crowd gathered around a small dais on the lower deck, just to the left of the amoeba-shaped pool. A short, portly guy in a fedora and Hawaiian shirt stood on the dais. For a moment Veronica couldn’t make out what he was saying over the crowd’s catcalling. He held up his arms in a placating gesture, and the crowd noise died down.
“All right all right all right!” he shouted, pacing the length of the riser. “Let me hear you make some noise!”
Another cheer went up from the crowd. The guy grinned, pumping his fist in the air. “Spring break!”
“Spring break!” The call went up again, echoing up and down the terrace. “Spring break!”
“All right, we got a special treat for you all tonight. We’ve got five lovely ladies who are just dying to show you the tan lines they’ve gotten this week. And folks, you know how small some of these suits are.” A round of hoots sounded from the crowd. “But first, let me introduce the judge. Here he is, your host tonight, Rico! Everyone give him a round of applause. Come on, now!”
The crowd screamed. Veronica stared. The man who’d just stepped on the dais was sharply handsome, with deep olive skin, dark hair, and a line of stubble along his jaw. He wore a pair of Bermuda shorts, and a lei draped across his sculpted chest.
It was the mystery guy from Hayley’s pictures—the guy she’d been hanging all over the night she’d disappeared.