Page 16 of Positively Pricked
Chapter 5
Dumbstruck, I stared down at destruction.What on Earth had happened?
Where the serving station used to be, all that remained now was a giant mess. Oh sure, the table was still there, but it was now lying on its side, surrounded by broken dishes, scattered food, and toppled serving trays.
Even the chafing dishes were upended, along with all of the edibles that we'd been so determined to keep warm. As far as the lit candles, they were nowhere in sight, but Ididspot a few burn marks on the formerly pristine tablecloth, which happened to be covered in stains and wadded up into a loose blob.
In the middle of everything was Naomi, who was crouched on the floor, plucking crab cakes off the ornate rug.
I stared down at her. "What happened?"
Only barely glancing up, she tossed a crab cake into a nearby wastebasket and said, "Don't ask."
I looked around. Except for the catering mess, the party hadn't really changed. In the far corner, the jazz band was still playing. Around us, the guests were still laughing and drinking. On the room's opposite side, Ms. Hedgwick was back at her old spot, giving me another dose of the stink-eye.
Well, that was nice.
Returning my attention to the mess, I crouched down beside Naomi and followed her lead, plucking food off the rug and tossing it into the trash. Trying to lighten the mood, I said, "I guess we should look on the bright side, huh?"
She stopped in mid-motion to ask, "What bright side?"
"Well, we don't need those extra candles anymore." I gave her an encouraging smile. "So, that's good, right?"
Naomi only frowned. Under her breath, she muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Fuck the candles."
Like so many other things tonight, it was déjà vu all over again. It seemed like the perfect time to repeat my question. "So what happened?"
Naomi sighed. "There was this guy, drunk off his ass, and—"
"And he flipped the table?"
She gave me an annoyed look. "No. He went careeningintothe table when our 'gracious host' body slammed him."
My jaw dropped. "You don't mean Zane Bennington?"
"Who else would I mean? It's his place, right?"
I glanced around. Yeah, itwashis place, and it was absolutely fabulous.
Hesodidn't deserve it, especially considering how callously he was willing to toss others out oftheirhome. I felt my jaw clench. That guy? Whathedeserved was a giant kick in the ass.
Hoping for the best, I asked, "So did the guy body-slam him back?"
Naomi tossed another crab cake into the trash. "No."
My shoulders sagged in disappointment. "Well, did he at least hit him or something?"
"You mean did the drunk guy hit Zane Bennington?" Naomi paused. "Hethreatenedto hit him. Does that count?"
Damn it.I muttered, "Not really."
I considered the timetable. Odds were pretty good that the drunk was Teddy, the guy who'd been arguing with Zane outside the van. What he actually looked like, I had no idea, but I'd definitely recognize his voice – well, if he slurred, that is.
How he sounded sober, I could only guess.
Mulling all of this over, I continued plucking food off the rug while Naomi went in search of cleaning supplies.
As I worked, I eyed the rug with growing concern. It was creamy white with black and tan swirly patterns. And yet, as ornate as the patterns were, they did nothing to hide all of the food stains.
