“Where are you going?” Berg asked.
“I’m going to find the kid. Eighteen is huge. He has to celebrate.”
“Really?” Max questioned her sister. “He has to celebrate? Isn’t that something you can do or not do?”
“No,” Charlie told her in a tone that brooked no dissent.
Max shuddered. “Now I’m having birthday flashbacks.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Charlie stepped over bodies to get around the table. “Your parties were always major events and I made sure everyone had a good time. Even you, Max.”
“I enjoyed myself grudgingly. Grudgingly!”
Britta pointed at the window that Zé hadn’t gone through during the brawl with tigers. “He’s making a run for it.”
Charlie took off toward the front of the house and Zé had to admit he was impressed she could move so swiftly considering she was probably still digesting all that food she’d just eaten.
She returned a few minutes later, her arms wrapped around the waist of a struggling and much taller Kyle.
“Got him!” she said with obvious pride. “Here, Shen.”
Charlie handed Kyle off and gestured to the others. “Let’s go. All of you.”
“Go?” Berg asked. “Go where?”
“To Kyle’s surprise party.” She blinked, looked at Shen. “How can it be a surprise if he knows?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Why are we going to Kyle’s party?” Dag wanted to know. “Even he doesn’t want to go.”
“A kid’s eighteenth? This is important!”
“Do you know who I am?” Kyle demanded. “I’m Kyle Jean-Louis Parker! Artist, prodigy, and bon vivant. And the only party I plan to attend is the one for my gallery opening!”
Charlie studied the kid. “Do you have a gallery opening?”
“Not at the moment,” he finally admitted.
“Then shut up!” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Shen, get him in some clean clothes. You guys, let’s get ready. We meet at the SUV in ten!”
Max rested her head on Zé’s shoulder. “Zé and I are going to stay here. Ya know . . . some alone time.” She gave her sister an exaggerated wink to, uh, get her point across, Zé guessed.
“Fuck the cat on your own time. Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”
* * *
Charlie waited by the SUV for everyone else. She could still hear Kyle bitching about not wanting to go but she had no patience for it. The kid would one day regret not having celebrated such a big milestone. No, it wasn’t like turning twenty-one, when a boy could legally drink, but Kyle didn’t drink anyway. So this was more about celebrating life! Managing to get to eighteen was an achievement. Especially for Kyle, who had the unique ability of pissing off almost everyone he came into contact with.
She heard doors closing from inside her house and at the triplets’ across the street. She knew everyone was coming. With a sigh, she looked at the text on her phone from much earlier in the day. It was from Imani. Charlie didn’t want the She-lion at the house when either of her sisters could come wandering in and wonder what the fuck was going on. But meeting at a party? Well . . . this was Kyle’s party. For all Charlie knew, three people could show up, including Stevie and Oriana because it wasn’t as if Kyle surrounded himself with friends. Or family. Or anyone, now that she thought about it. Still, she could make the meeting work since it was at a club.
Charlie texted the club info to Imani and stuffed the phone into her back pocket seconds before the front door opened and Shen walked out, carrying Kyle with one arm the way he might a sack of potatoes. Behind them were Max and Zé, and Charlie ordered her sister to text her teammates the details for the party.
Max stopped walking. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Just do it.”
“Oh, is it so the kid will have people at his party?”
“It’s like you want me to start screaming.”
“Calm down,” she said, pulling out her phone. “I’m sure they’ll come.”
The triplets came from across the street and, together, the group piled into the SUV.
As soon as the doors shut, the complaints started. From everyone.
“Shut up!” Charlie yelled. “We are going to this party. We’re going to have a good time. And I don’t want to hear anything else about it!” She waited a beat for her yell to fade. Then she added, “Understand?”
“Yes,” they all groaned except Kyle.
“What I don’t think you understand,” the kid spouted, “is that I consider this a form of kidnapping and I plan to—”
“Shut up, Kyle,” the entire group told him.
“Rude,” he muttered, but at least he did shut up.
* * *
“Whatever happens,” Max told Zé while he stared out over the packed dance floor, “just don’t start swinging.”
Frowning, he asked, “Why would I just start swinging?”
“Maaaaaaaax!” a voice screeched seconds before Bane—sorry . . . Blayne—the woman he’d met at the steakhouse, attacked Max from behind, wrapping her arms and legs around the much smaller woman.
Slowly Max turned her head to look at him. “Now do you see?”
“Cocaine?” he asked, assuming that would explain the woman’s risky behavior.
“Nope. Sprite. Maybe Pepsi.”
“Actually,” Blayne said, dropping to the ground and gliding to a stop in front of Max, “none of those things. Shirley Temples. Six of them.” She pumped her fist into the air and screamed out, “Woooooo-hoooo!” Then she grabbed Max’s hand and dragged her out onto the dance floor. That’s when Zé realized the woman had on roller skates.
Why was she wearing roller skates? At a club?
“Want a shot?” Berg asked him, motioning to the bar.
“God, yes.”
The bartender poured four shots of tequila for Zé and the triplets. They each picked one up and were about to knock them back when Nelle and Mads abruptly ran up to them and began slapping the tequila from their hands.
“What the hell, man?” Dag demanded.
“You don’t want that tequila,” Nelle said, grabbing the bottle off the bar and expertly passing it off to Tock, who hustled it away while Streep put her hand to her forehead and seemed to pass out in front of Charlie, clearly attempting to distract her from what had just happened.
“Okay, then!” Nelle said before walking away.
“What the fuck was that?” Zé asked Berg.
“I’m guessing poison.”
“It’s tequila. How bad can it be?”
He shook his head. “No, I mean literal poison.”
“Sorry about that,” the bartender said, pouring the four of them fresh shots from a tequila bottle Zé recognized. “I didn’t know they’d put that shit behind the bar.”
“This is going to be an interesting night, isn’t it?’ Zé asked the triplets and the three just laughed.
* * *
Max watched Blayne perform what she seemed to think constituted dancing. It wasn’t. It was just a horrifying show of “Blayne moves.” Even worse, those moves were done to “Funky-town.” A song she only knew because her Pop-Pop had listened to that sort of seventies crap when he was driving Max, Stevie, and Charlie around before Charlie got her driver’s license.