I had to hand it to her—she had impeccable self-control. If only that trait weren’t driving her to do stupid-ass shit just to feel alive.
Not my problem. Not my problem.
I forced myself to look away, grabbed some gluten-free paleo salad thing and a drink from the food counter, and picked an empty table.
No one flipped my tray. No one even said anything to me.
By the end of the day, it was clear everyone was leaving me alone. Donna had done what she’d promised. As if there was ever any doubt she could accomplish whatever she set that pretty little head to.
I had exactly what I wanted.
Except I no longer had any excuse to speak to a certain infuriating blonde, and as I drove home, the victory felt hollow.
Chapter Nine
Donna
Mom turned sideways in front of the ornate mirror by the front door and smoothed her midnight-blue cocktail dress.
“How do I look?” she asked no one in particular.
“Gorgeous, as always.” My auntie Eleanor smiled at her, then shoved her out of the way with her hip to take up the mirror. “How do I look?”
“Like me. So gorgeous, as always,” Mom shot back.
Mom was older than her sister by two years, but they were as close as Harlow and me. I knew there was a period of time—when I was a young child—that they didn’t speak. It had something to do with my aunt moving away to marry a man Grandmother didn’t approve of and ending up without an inheritance, but every time I tried to dig more up about it, Mom shut me down with some version of “Leave the past in the past.”
I just wanted to know everything. It was interesting: shoot me.
But Mena’s family had moved back to Devilbend just before we all started high school, and our moms reconnected. They looked really similar, and even though they were teasing each other in front of the mirror, they were smiling and laughing.
“You’re both stunning.” Dad came down the stairs, fiddling with a cuff link. “Brad, back me up here or we’ll never leave.”
“Yes. Absolutely ethereal. We’re the luckiest men on earth,” my uncle Brad deadpanned, but I could see his lips twitch as he fought a smile.
While my mom and aunt started smacking and berating him for his attitude, Dad came to a stop next to me.
“Help me out, sweetness. I can never get the right one.” He held out his right wrist, and I fixed the cuff link in place. “Thank you.” He kissed the top of my head. “You girls have fun. And call us if you need anything.”
“I will.”
My parents had both stopped bothering to warn me to be safe and make good choices. It was a given. I was their perfect little girl. I’d make sure everything was fine, and I’d take care of the others.
It was Mena’s birthday, and we were throwing her a party. She’d originally insisted on a small gathering, maybe at the diner where she worked. But when we sat down to write a list of who to invite, she was the only one surprised to see over twenty-five people on the list. The girl just wasn’t used to having that many friends, and I was pretty sure she’d never had a real party to celebrate her birthday.
It didn’t take much to convince her after that, but the guest list had grown . . .
During the afternoon, we’d had a family lunch together and opened presents. Now our parents were graciously leaving for the night. They planned to go to dinner in San Francisco and stay at our apartment in the city. The staff were given the night off, although cleaners would be arriving at ten in the morning to make sure the house was pristine before my parents returned. Everything was nearly ready.
As soon as our parents disappeared outside, I rushed to the back of the house, where the others had been listening out for the sound of the front door closing.
“Freedom!” I yelled, sliding across the kitchen tiles with my hands in the air.
Everyone whooped, and Turner pushed the button on the blender, getting the first batch of margaritas going as Mena grabbed glasses from the cupboard. Harlow pushed a few buttons on her phone, and music started pounding through the speaker system installed in the ceiling.
“Thank fuck.” Amaya headed straight for the back patio, lighting a cigarette before she was even fully out of the house.
Harlow handed me a margarita, and I took it absentmindedly, mentally running through the checklist.
The staff had put up balloons and streamers in the main areas and cleared away some of the expensive, breakable items.
It was too cold to go in the pool in October, so the party would be in the main living area and on the patio where Amaya was smoking. A fire pit with chairs and blankets was set up and just waiting for the strike of a match.
Magda had prepared mountains of food.
I had a cake with eighteen candles ready to go in the fridge.
Drew and Will were bringing enough beer and spirits to give us all alcohol poisoning.
“Harlow, is the playlist ready to go?”
She nodded and planted her ass on the island counter next to the blender. “Yep! All of Mena’s faves mixed in with some bangers!”
“Amaya!” I called out to the patio as Turner poured the drinks.
She startled me by leaning over my shoulder and stealing my untouched margarita. “No need to shout. I’m right here.” She took a sip, giving me a teasing look over the salted rim.
“Guest list update,” I demanded.
“Should be just over a hundred. There’s always a few last-minute additions though.”
Mena choked on her drink. “A hundred?! We don’t even have that many people in our senior year. I don’t even know that many people!”
“You can’t have a Devilbend Dynasty party and expect under a hundred people.” Amaya shrugged and took another sip.
I stole my drink back and glared at her before addressing my cousin. “It’s just one of those things. If you invite certain people, certain others expect an invitation too. Then word spreads, and everyone wants to come so they can be seen at one of our parties, and it just kind of snowballs. Don’t worry about it. All your friends will be here, and we’ll have a great time.”
“Yeah, baby. Just enjoy it. You deserve a fun night.” Turner wrapped an arm around Mena’s shoulders and kissed her temple.
Harlow, Amaya, and I made a loud, over-the-top aww. They were so cute it was making me sick. Will never made me smile the way Mena was smiling at Turner now.
I finally took a sip of the margarita, and my eyes widened. “Jesus, fuck!”
Harlow had been the one putting the ingredients in the blender when I’d gone to the foyer to see our parents off. I frowned reproachfully at her.
“What?” She smiled sweetly.
“This is really strong.”
“So?”
“So let’s not write ourselves off before the party even starts, OK?”
“Yes, mom.” She rolled her eyes, and the others chuckled.
I glared at them but chose to let it go. This was Mena’s day.
We hung out for a bit, chatting and laughing, then headed upstairs to get ready.
A few hours later, I felt as if I could declare this party a success. Music was pumping, and a dance floor had been established in the living room. The cake had been presented to the birthday girl as a hundred people sang her “Happy Birthday.” People were drinking, laughing, and talking around the firepit, some of them smoking pot.