Page 45 of Searching for Hope

Michael holds out the next shot. “Here’s to the good times. May there be many more!” We both hold the glasses high in the air before downing them.

By the time I manage to get my mojito I’ve lost count of the number of shots I’ve consumed. It’s enough that I’ve got a happy buzz on. And a happy sway. And an unhinged laugh. Michael helps me weave through the crowd, although I don’t know where we are going.

“Everly?”

I stop, trying to focus on the slightly blurry face before me but all I can see are massive breasts and blonde hair.

“Everly? Everly Atterton?”

Why did everyone insist on calling me that?

“It’s me, Georgia!” She wraps her arms around me. She’s been in the pool. She’s wet.

The name is familiar, but I just can’t place her. Then finally it dawns on me. She was a year beneath me back at boarding school. She’s changed. She’s changed a lot.

“Oh, my goodness, Georgia?” I gush, reverting back to my old self more quickly than I would have liked to think I would. “You look amazing!” I return her hug, ignoring the fact that I’m now damp.

“Thanks.” She fluffs her hair and then cups her breasts. “Dad shouted me for my eighteenth.” Then she holds her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry you didn’t get an invite but with all that was going on, well,” she screws up her nose, “well you get it.”

“Sure, sure.” I nod. “You don’t want the daughter of a monster at your party, do you?” I laugh.

Georgia sort of blinks and takes a step back, her fake smile increasing. “No, no. I never meant it like that.”

“Oh, you didn’t? How did you mean it then?” I take a sip of my mojito, peering at her expectantly. I’m being mean. I kind of liked Georgia at school. I’m not sure why I’m tormenting her now.

But instead of answering, she takes a step forward and lays a cold hand on my arm, eyes peering at me with exaggerated concern. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” I laugh and take another sip of my drink. I know exactly what she’s referring to, but I pretend not to. I look around the crowd, catching a glimpse of someone I recognize but again can’t place, but Georgia pulls me back into conversation, her fingers gripping my arm harder.

“No, I mean everything with your father. I can’t imagine what it would have been like for you to discover what sort of a man he was. It was like you just dropped off the face of the planet. I mean it must have been—"

“Everly?”

Oh god. Not another one. I swing around, smile in place. It’s another person from school. Another who I only remember vaguely.

And that’s how it goes for the next couple of hours. Michael and I move from person to person, story to story. Michael’s got his arm slung around my shoulder. Part of me wants to shake it off but the other part is grateful for him keeping me upright.

Everyone talks about my father.

Everyone.

If I wasn’t filled with tequila, I would be curled in the fetal position on the floor. Instead, it bounces off me with a casual indifference that everyone claims is brave. In this case though, my bravery has come from a bottle.

“Well, you are certainly not someone I expected to see here.”

It’s the man I recognized earlier. I still don’t know how or why though. I narrow my eyes, trying to place him. He’s got an easy smile, but there’s also something disarming about it. I take a step back.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

There’s a girl clinging to his arm. She’s had so much to drink she can barely stand. She looks at me through glazed eyes, eyebrows raised in suspicion. She doesn’t look familiar, only the man.

“I’m sorry. Did we go to school together?” I doubt it. He’s older than me by a few years by the look of him.

“Conway.” He shoves his hand in my direction and the girl clutching his arm stumbles. “Patrick Conway.”

I shake his hand hesitantly, but I still have no idea who he is. “Pleasure to meet you… again?” I offer him a smile.

“Officer Patrick Conway.”

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