Page 37 of Eye Candy

Maybe.

CHAPTER 17

CHASE

Typing ‘how to throw a fun party’into Google gave a lot of results.

Adding ‘so your brother stops hating you’diminished their usefulness, and I knew better than to try ‘and his would-be extortionist confesses her secrets to you and gets naked in your bed’.

Regardless, I spent a lot of time researching how to host a successful small social gathering, and aggregated the findings into five key success indicators which I wrote on the dry-erase board in my home office.

1. Appropriate venue.

My apartment. It was easier to control the numbers here.

2. Good music.

I asked some of the Rollers to make a playlist. Ididn’t know what music was considered good in general terms, and they were excited about the task.

3. Games or activities.

My business partner, Xan, told me all the mom blogs about kids’ parties had probably skewed the data, but I put Scrabble on the coffee table anyway.

4. Snacks and drinks.

At seven p.m., the mixologist I’d hired swept into the apartment with a whirl of storage containers and refrigerated bags.

Already unpacking things in the kitchen, they said cheerfully, “Hi I’m Buzz, like Lightyear, and my pronouns are they/them.”

Unlike me, Buzz didn’t seem to find the idea of six people descending on this apartment anxiety-inducing. They whistled Broadway tunes as they prepped.

5. Mingle to ensure people are forming connections and exchanging meaningful conversation.

This was the worrying part. I kept the guest list short, of course, and limited to people I trusted, like Xan and Greta. I also asked Sonya because I needed the word to get around town that I had had a conciliatory event with Joe and it had gone well, and there was no faster way to spread news. I had also invited ‘Teddy’. This was for optics—to show my brother I didn’t mind if his partners were scandalous or he jumped into things without thinking. It wasn’t because I wanted desperately to see her and couldn’t stop remembering her lips on mine…

When my watch vibrated at the set start time, I was sweating bullets, but Xan and Google said it was normal for people to arrive after the set start time. Gradually, my guests trickled in. Low chatter filled my apartment, the volume increasing relative tothe rate of champagne corks popping. I thought I would find it unpleasant to open my apartment like this, but it was nice to see people I liked enjoying themselves in my home. Unexpected satisfaction spread through my chest watching Greta and Xan on the sofa with Antony, nodding attentively at one of his never-ending stories. Greta’s man Francis hovered over Buzz’s shoulder, peppering them with a hundred questions about boutique gin.

There was still no sign of Joe. Or Floss.

If she came, I assumed she would still pretend she was Teddy. It would be too much to hope she would show up as herself and lay everything on the table for me. She hadn’t even responded to my message asking her to come.

She hadn’t responded to any of my messages. I shouldn’t have kept calling her. I just… couldn’t stop myself.

The door swung open with enough force to make it bounce off the wall. There wasn’t time to worry about the wall as a loud voice boomed, “Party’s here!”

My brother stood in the doorframe, all massive six feet, three inches of him, his chest puffed out and a belligerent look in his eye. A curvy white person with jet-black hair and a round cherub’s face clutched at his arm. This was Jemima, assumedly.

“Let’s get loud, bitches!” Joe called as he strode through the door. He wasted no time telling Buzz. “Vodka martini, and keep ’em coming!”

“Hello, I’m Joe’s girlfriend, Jemima.” She adjusted the plant in her arms and offered me a handshake. “You must be Chase.”

“Yes, thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

At a loss for how to alleviate the awkwardness, I asked. “How was traffic?”

“Not bad.”

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