Page 43 of Fun at Parties
Kyla’s home is a big, modern new build in a neighborhood of big, modern new builds, with an open living space that stretches to the back of the house. Sitting on the kitchen island are four gorgeous charcuterie platters, half-eaten, each shaped like a letter spelling out the wordBABY.Next to them, somebody has set out greasy paper bags overflowing with McDonald’s cheeseburgers.
A balloon arch in various earth tones covers the wall behind the dining table, which has been shifted against the staircase to make room for a dance floor. There, a radiant woman in a floral maxi dress is getting lower than Newton would’ve thought possible for a woman in her third trimester.
There’s both a make-your-own-wildflower-bouquet bar and an actual bar, and not the tame kind that only serves mimosas. It’s stacked with handles of Tito’s and bottles of—gag—Patrón, plus Laguna Boys Cerezita Rum, a gross-looking liquor I only recognize from some of theBeach Housepeople’s social media. As we pass by, a guy whose ripped, waxed chest is on display above his deep V-neck plunks down a bunch of freshly rinsed shot glasses. A woman in a sleek red dress with cutouts at the waist immediately fills them up.
Nate hazards a guess: “It’s a baby…rager?”
Kyla flags down Livvie, who seems sincerely happy to meet us. She has an endearing honk of a laugh and the kind of long, gleaming red hair that must sell an unfathomable quantity of gummy vitamins on Instagram.
Nate doesn’t check her out.Doesn’t matter,I remind myself.He’s leaving.
“Who is this party for?” I ask Livvie.
“Oh! It’s a baby shower for Amber and Omar. Well, it was. This is the after-party.”
The guy with the pecs pokes his head in. “Baby shower after dark,” he says with a grin. “Drink, anyone?” He introduces himself as Michael Embry, and Livvie and Kyla refer to him solely as Michael Embry. Like a reverse Cher, but equally powerful, a person who could never be contained by a name as nonspecific asMichael.He points out his girlfriend, who’s sitting on the floor next to the gifts, taking inventory to help Amber with her thank-you notes.
The normal me would love a weird party like this. Attending it, or planning it for a friend. And while Nate and I blend in like mineral sunscreen in our casual clothes,everyone is welcoming. But I need to focus on why we’re here, so I decline the drink.
Nate shakes his head too. “I haven’t seen Logan yet.”
Livvie taps her chin. “He was here earlier. He gave Amber the most beautiful baby carrier. Artipoppe, gold velvet. A couple of the guys went to pick our friend Hayden up from the airport, so maybe he went with them?”
“Was he okay?” Nate asks. “He left Tahoe pretty suddenly after someone posted a picture of him with Quinn. We thought he might’ve been upset about the nasty comments.”
“Seemed fine to me. He said he spent this afternoon at a paint-your-own-pottery place making a mug with dicks all over it.” She tilts her head until recognition sparks in her eyes. “Oh! The picture. You’re the single-girl spin instructor.”
In my periphery, Nate swivels toward me. I catch the confusion on his face, which means he hasn’t done any Googling. “Um,” I say. “Yes, I think.”
“Your ex was so mean,” Livvie continues. “Lining up someone new, and then what he said about you? Downright cruel.”
My face is in flames. “People say a lot of things they don’t mean when they’re venting.” It’s the most charitable explanation, for Caleb and for me. Because the real explanation is that he was right about me, just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
“Still. I get why you said what you did. That would’ve been enough to make anyone swear off dating.”
I try to swallow my embarrassment. “I think I need a seltzer or something.”
“I’ll get it,” Nate says, and leaves me with Livvie.
She studies me. “Sorry if I said too much about your business. I tend to treat people like we’re best friends within five minutes of meeting them.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “It’s just new to me. I thought I was used to being in the spotlight before, but this is another level. My boss wants me to take advantage of it, but I have no idea how.”
“I’m sure I can help with that.” She furrows her brow in thought.
That’s how, by the time Nate comes back with two pretty cocktail glasses filled with raspberry-lime sparkling water, I find myself posing for a photo with Kyla, who recently went through a very public breakup with herBeach Housecostar.
“He wanted me to invest my life savings in his astrology-based IV vitamin infusion concierge business,” she says. “When I said no, he told me I was unsupportive.” My horrified face must say it all, because Livvie lets out another unruly laugh and Kyla breaks into a smile. “I’m well aware that I’m better off.”
Her fingers fly across her phone screen as she applies a filter to our photo, then adds a caption.@quinnraycycles and I had lots to talk about, she types. “Maybe we should’ve taken the photo on the roof deck.”
“It looks good to me,” I say, and she taps the little arrow, posting it for her nine hundred thousand followers to see. Tracy is going to love this. I quickly share it, conscious of Nate standing behind me, holding our drinks and my sweatshirt. He’s been there for more than a few minutes, but to my relief, he’s not watching me closely.Instead, he’s chatting with a guy who I suspect is Omar, based on the neon-yellow sweatband on his head that’s monogrammed with the wordDADDY.
“Wait,” I say, my mind catching on something Kyla said. “Roof deck? Are people up there?”
She nods. “It’s quieter. But no bar.”
“Logan?”
