Page 25 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
“Mind if I take a second to chat with Julian?” It’s unclear if the question is aimed at me, Liam, or both of us.
“Of course.” Liam holds up his champagne flute. “Don’t forget to try the Brie before it’s gone. It’s imported fromFrance.” Finally, mercifully, he starts to walk away. “Pleasure seeing you all again. And nice to meet you, David.”
I don’t bother correcting him, focusing instead on making my own grand escape in the opposite direction, but Julian yanks me to his side.
“Stay,” he whispers to me out of the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not a dog.”
“Hello, Devin,” Mr. Cooke says, his face painfully stiff.
“Mr. Cooke.” It’s oddly thrilling watching cool, confident Paul Cooke squirm.
“It’s very nice of you to stop by, but this event is really just for friends of the Alleghenys.” He rests a hand on my shoulder. “You understand, don’t you?”
“He’s here as my plus-one,” Julian says.
Mr. Cooke turns to him, annoyance morphing into horror as his eyes travel down to my and Julian’s linked fingers.
“Your…plus-one?”
“The invitation said we could bring one if we wanted to.” Julian pauses, straightening himself out. “Didn’t it?”
I hold in a laugh. Mr. Cooke looks like he’s going to either pee himself, explode, or both.
He checks us out, as if we’re toxic waste. “Devin, can you excuse us for a moment?” He loops his arm around Julian’s shoulders, tugging him toward a nearby hallway. Julian glances back at me as his dad pulls him away, mouthingBe back soonbefore disappearing from view.
Well…what now?
I rock on the balls of my feet, digging my hands into my pockets. I don’t realize I’ve been relying on Julian as myshield until I’m left alone on the battlefield without armor. I’m not sure how long “soon” is, but I don’t want to risk losing Julian in the crowd when he returns. Or getting cornered by Liam, who may try to stab me with an antique steak knife if he gets the chance.
After fifteen minutes of standing around, I start attracting the wrong kind of attention. A handful of people assume I’m a waiter, which feels like a microaggression on way too many levels. What waiter wears a dinosaur-print shirt?
Doing nothing isn’t helping me seem any less out of place, so I might as welltryto act like I belong. I confidently make my way toward the drinks table, grabbing a flute of champagne this time. What the Alleghenys don’t know won’t hurt them.
I sip my champagne and continue sampling the rest of the hors d’oeuvres. The Alleghenys clearly pulled out all the stops for their “modest” affair. There’s a surprising amount of meat wrapped up inside other meats, and a burrata so light and wonderful I hear angels sing after I take my first bite. As for the Brie, if anything, it was imported from a Whole Foods.
While I take a lap with a plate of finger sandwiches, I make sure to keep tabs on the people who have it out for me. Liam is throwing eye daggers at me from across the room. Thankfully he’s too preoccupied with schmoozing to attack. Henry skulks around the bar, clearly trying to sneak himself something stronger than champagne, but the bartenders don’t look like they’ll be caving anytime soon.
The only person I haven’t spotted is Mrs. Seo, though Iwouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t here tonight. She’s a busy lady, busier than her husband’s ever been. She’s a name partner at a law firm that does…lawyer things. Doing actual work while Mr. Cooke “networks” with the upper crust until he can charm them into investing in his (probably stolen) business ventures. Spotting her name on the notable alumni roster when I visited UCLA was a jump scare straight out of a horror movie. Turns out she’s a born and bred Angelino—and a beloved one at that. The Seo-Cookes still haunt me even when I’m across the country.
My suspicion radar pings as I watch Liam cross the room to grab a passing waiter. His red-hot gaze doesn’t leave me as he whispers something in the waiter’s ear, pointing right at me before stalking off. The waiter glances nervously between the two of us before hesitantly approaching me.
Liam can’t get me kicked out of here…can he?
Either way, I’m not sticking around to find out. I carefully weave my way through the crowd, avoiding the waiter on my tail, until I finally spot a familiar face at a secluded table in a back corner.
Stella doesn’t glance up from her phone when I throw myself down into the seat beside her. “You’re still here?”
“I can’t believe it either,” I mutter, more to myself than her. The waiter hasn’t caught up to me yet, so I make myself unassuming. An impossible task considering how out of place I am.
“Why ishehere?” sneers a voice to my left.
Henry’s slim-cut suit makes him look impossibly larger, like he’s one flex away from bursting at the seams. I wonderif there’s an ounce of fat left on him, or if he’s grown into one giant mass of pure muscle with a neck as thick as his head.
Stella pops her gum before replying, sounding as disinterested as ever. “Julian invited him.”
“He’s actually going through with it?” Henry softens but keeps a wary eye on me. “After I told him they hid my stuff?!”
