Page 38 of Stars and Scars

“Hi,” she says in a lilting, bubbly tone that’s sweet enough to rot my teeth. “I’ve got my invitation right heeereee….”

She shows them her phone. One of the bouncers scans it, checks the results, and nods.

“You can go right in, Ms. Paltrow.”

“Thank you so much!”

She presses a hundred dollar bill into his palm, then turns and offers another to his fellow.

“You guys work so hard, you’re awesome!”

“Thanks, Ma’am,” the two behemoths say in unison. As we enter the manor house, Charlotte notices me giving her a stare.

“What?” she asks.

“I know you meant well, and are just trying to blend in. But now those two bouncers will undoubtedly remember us if someone asks. Otherwise, they might have forgotten us altogether.”

Charlotte’s gaze narrows.

“I got us in, didn’t I? Look, if there’s one rule in Hollywood, it’s take care of the staff. They’re the ones who can help…or hinder you the most.”

I start to argue, but she puts a finger against my lips. The suddenness of the gesture, the warmth of her flesh against mine, steals my breath away.

“Shhh. When we’re in your world, I’ll accept you’re the expert, but right now we’re in mine.”

She takes my hand and leads me into the wonderland of Wyatt’s crazy party. I’ve been to bashes thrown by Sheiks in Abu Dhabi that lasted for days, and yet I’ve never seen anything quite like this.

The entrance leads directly into a ballroom, with twin sweeping grand staircases flanking either side of the chamber. Bodies swirl and gyrate on the dance floor as industrial music pulses through the air. I can feel the percussion in my stomach as Charlotte leads me onward.

Beyond the ballroom, we go through a set of glass doors and find ourselves in a courtyard dominated by an olympic style swimming pool. At first, I think that the pool is covered with dead leaves. But then I realize the water is stark white, too.

“What in the Hell is going on?”

“Hmm? Oh, I saw this online before.” Charlotte squats carefully down, smoothing the hem of her skirt. She thrusts her hand into the churning morass and scoops some up for my inspection.

“Is that…corn flakes?”

“Yeah. Sometimes Wyatt fills up his pool with weird stuff. Once, he filled it with Coke.”

I do a double take. “For real? That must have cost millions.”

She frowns, and then burbles with laughter as light dawns in her eyes.

“Oh my god, I mean Coca Cola, not cocaine! Wyatt is nuts, but he’s not nuts enough to do that AND post it on the internet for everyone to see.”

She throws the corn flakes back into the pool and dries her hand on a nearby towel.

“I can’t imagine soft drinks are good for the skin.”

“No, they aren’t,” she says with a chuckle. “One of Wyatt’s guests sued, because he got a bad rash after swimming in the soda.”

I crane my neck and look around the party. I see performance artists wearing only deer antlers and gold body paint, a circle of suited businessmen who look weirdly out of place, and more wildly-clad party-goers than I can categorize, but I don’t see Wyatt himself.

I don’t like this situation at all. Any one of these people could come up on us and stick a knife in Charlotte’s chest before I could react. I have to fall back on my instincts, and hope they’re better than the day my sister died.

“You don’t see Wyatt anywhere, do you?” I ask over the chaotic din.

“No, but from what I understand he roams around a lot at these parties. If we keep moving, we’ll probably run into him, eventually. Do you really think he could be involved with the Order?”

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