Page 34 of Mr. Big Shot

After I put away the leftovers and wipe up the kitchen, I open my bedroom door to find Moira completely splayed out on my pillow like the Queen of Sheba, the tip of the shrimp’s tail dangling out of her closed mouth. She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed that her lady parts are on full display.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “He’s gone.”

Chapter Twelve

Scarlett

I love costume parties, but I especially love costume parties planned by my mother. All the passion I channel into law, she channels into entertaining. She’s been throwing Elwood Hoyt parties since before I was born—hell, I was probably born because of an Elwood Hoyt party. She has such a knack for turning a forgettable event into something spectacular and noteworthy. It helps that she has a team of party planners on the company payroll, of course, though the vision is all her.

She’s been sending me pictures of the event setup all day. The party coordinators rented out the rooftop deck of the St. Regis and had a crew in here first thing, creating the most over-the-top magical menagerie, replete with circus tents housing each of the four bars, sweeping floral arrangements that arch into the sky, and antique circus stalls filled not with animals, but with Cirque du Soleil performers painted and decked out to become animals. It’s sexy and fun and when I walk inside, I’m greeted by a fire breather blowing a plume of flame just over my head. I know it’s going to be a great night.

“You’ve seriously outdone yourself,” I tell my mom, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

She only returned from Europe a week and a half ago, and she’s managed to get everything just right for the party. I have no idea how she does it.

“Looks great, Katherine,” my dad says lovingly while holding on to her shoulder, delicately enough that his hand drapes partly against her neck.

They’ve dressed for the theme, of course. My dad is a ringmaster. My mom sourced the suit from France. She said she found it at one of the markets and it sparked the inspiration for this year’s party. He looks the part, as if I snapped my fingers and drew him here from the 1930s.

A clown walks past us, pauses, and returns to entertain us with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He slips the eccentric yellow top hat off his head and digs his hand inside. I think he’s about to draw out some never-ending rainbow scarf when instead, he presents each of us with the evening’s signature cocktail.

My mother’s is yellow, my dad’s is blue, and mine is pink. There’s a color-coordinated ball of cotton candy my mom tells us we have to eat fast or it’ll dissolve into the drink. A laugh of delight spills out of me as I hurry to eat the sugary pink treat, which I was expecting to be bubblegum flavor but instead tastes like champagne heaven.

“Mom!”

She laughs and shrugs one shoulder like it’s nothing.

She’s dressed up like Lillian Leitzel, the German-born acrobat who famously performed for the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. She’s wearing a tight dress that flares out at her hips like a demure tutu. Her legs are wrapped in tights, and her shoes are pale pink ballet flats that tie up around her ankles. I hope I’m half as stunning as she is when I’m older.

No one else is dressed to theme, of course. None of us knew what we were about to walk into, so there are all the usual suspects floating around: a vampire beside a cat, a bloody Jason in his telltale white mask chatting up a Barbie and Ken duo.

“Did Jasper say he was going to meet you here?” my mom asks coolly.

“He said he was going to try,” I reply with a smile. “He’s having dinner with his parents first.”

Before they can prod any further about the Jasper situation, a photographer dressed like a mime motions for us to get close for a picture. Just as he snaps it and my eyes adjust to the flash, I see Hudson over near one of the bars. He’s wearing a super realistic-looking flight suit with aviators tucked into his collar. It’s silly that he looks so handsome considering it’s just a costume, but quite frankly he looks like he just walked off the set of Top Gun and it’s fulfilling some kind of weird fantasy I didn’t even realize I had until this very instant.

Barrett and Nyles haven’t arrived yet, but they swore they’d be here. I could really use them right about now because my mom and dad are immediately swept up into conversation, leaving me on my own just as I spot the other first-year associates clustered together in a group nearby.

Kendra is dressed as a cat—she’s the fourth one I’ve seen so far—and Makayla is a Handmaid, but I can’t really tell what everyone else is supposed to be. The guys aren’t in costumes at all, which I’m sure they’re regretting now because this is not a party where you show restraint. All the senior associates and partners have gone all out. It just makes it seem like the first-years take themselves way too seriously.

“Is that Dorothy?”

I spin around just as Barrett and Nyles walk into the party beneath the floral arch dressed as the Tin Man and Scarecrow. I gasp, totally in shock. I mentioned to Barrett the other day that it seemed like Jasper was going to skip the party. Maybe he could tell I was a little hurt by it, but I never thought they’d go to the trouble to do this!

The photographer hurries back to take our picture just as they join me. He captures a picture of Nyles wrapping me up in a tight hug, and I already know I’ll want a copy to frame. I mean, they really went all out. The costumes look homemade. While the photographer snaps away, I try to figure out the logistics of Barrett’s Scarecrow costume.

“Did you stuff your overalls with real hay?”

“Yes! That’s what a scarecrow is, city girl!”

Nyles didn’t half-ass it either. He’s painted his face and neck and hands so his deep olive skin is covered with silver paint.

“You know the real actor was hospitalized from the aluminum makeup they used on set,” I tell him, peering closer to try to discern what he used. Whatever it is, it’s completely covered his skin. He’s applied it so well it blends into the little tin hat he’s pinned to his hair. Usually, it’s jet black, but tonight he’s sprayed it silver.

Nyles laughs. “Don’t worry, I skipped the aluminum, sis. Now where can I get one of those fancy drinks you’re holding?”

“Find a clown.”

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