Page 35 of One Wealthy Wedding

My mouth twists. I surreptitiously sold one of my family properties to Lane’s boyfriend last year, in an effort to get free from my family. “Yeah. My tuition money. He seized the account.”

“He’s an asshole,” Lane says. “I’m glad you’re out of there.” Lane doesn’t know everything about my parents, but she knows enough to hate them.

“Out of the frying pan into the fire,” I mutter.

Lane laughs. “Come on. Living with Theo won’t be that bad. The house is nice, at least. And I bet he has all sorts of gadgets.”

I nod. “Fifty-seven cars in the basement garage, if the tabloids are to be believed. And naked photos of himself on the walls.”

“Really?” Lane’s eyes are huge.

“No. Though maybe in his bedroom? He does have a pretty big ego.”

“A big ego, eh?” Lane wags her brows, and we dissolve into laughter.

When Blair arrives, we’re on our way to being well and truly drunk, and I’ve managed to mostly forget about my father’s awfulness.

“What’s next on the list?” Blair asks as she snags a glass of wine and sets it on one of the trays. The couches in here are huge and squishy, and all the footrests come with trays so that we can balance a glass of wine or a snack on the end.

“Ooh, I forgot it was list night.” Lane rubs her hands together.

“No you didn’t,” I respond. “You just like to pretend you aren’t scheming.” Lane, like Blair, is way too into the list.

Blair cackles evilly, and Lane high-fives her.

“I mean the list is pretty tame,” Blair says.

“It has do something bad on it,” I proclaim, waving the sheet of paper in the air.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Blair scoffs. “Besides, I know that in parentheses, you added and don’t get caught. What’s your plan for that?”

“You know.” I gesture vaguely. “I’ll do something a little bit bad. Like shoplifting a soda and giving it back later. Peeing behind a parked car.”

“Wow. A rebel.” Lane is fighting a smile. “Is that the plan for tonight?”

“Let’s see what I have left.” It’s a lot. I created the “get a life” list when I moved out of Rockwood. It seemed like a great idea at the time, but I’ve already crossed out all the easy stuff.

“Okay. We’ve got learn to drive. That’s not happening tonight. Skinny dipping in the ocean. In February. No thanks.”

Lane scrunches her face. “Miles is in LA with the jet, or I’d offer to take us somewhere warm.”

“Sounds like tattoo time to me,” Blair cuts in.

“Ooh.” Lane leans in. “Maybe Theo’s name in a heart?”

I roll my eyes and go back to the list, ignoring the back side of the page, where I’ve listed the things I can’t tell even my friends. “Slam my hands down on a cab and say ‘I’m walking here.’ Did that. Dance on a table.”

“Dance on a table.” Blair sits up straight. “It’s Saturday night. Perfect night for dancing on a table.”

Lane claps her hands. “Let’s do it. But wait.” She frowns. “I don’t know anywhere you can dance on a table.” Lane is not a partier. She, like me, likes quiet nights at home. But she does like causing trouble, and she’ll always stick up for her friends.

“Oh stop.” Blair rolls her eyes, but she’s already pulling out her phone. “Let me ask Daryl. He’s young and fun.”

“He’s going to send us to a gay bar,” Lane says.

“So? Best place to dance on a table, in my opinion,” Blair replies while speed texting.

“Because”—Lane grins—“after the other night, I think it’s time for a little payback.”

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