Page 8 of The Wicked

“How does one person know that many people?”

“I don’t think Hadley Carpenter does. There are a bunch of plus-ones, and some of the guests are friends of her parents. Her father does something in politics, and politicians always invite a gazillion people to their events because it’s not what you know; it’s who you know.”

“At least you’ll be able to hide in the crowd.”

“I’m planning to hang out by the buffet table. Hadley ordered five-star food, and Parker said that Kayleigh and Lillian are on some weird raw vegetable diet this week, so they’re not gonna eat teriyaki chicken skewers or crumbed Camembert bites.”

Not until midnight, anyway. The two of them would starve all day on their perpetual quest for thinness, and then they’d sneak into the kitchen late in the evening and gorge on carbs. The next morning, I’d have to listen to them complaining about muffin top and belly pooch, and Kayleigh had tossed out three bathroom scales in the past year because they always had some kind of imaginary fault. One time, I’d suggested she give me a hand because running around at events sure did burn off the calories, and she’d looked at me like I was crazy.

Tonight, she’d undoubtedly be whining about blisters.

A moment later, Brooke pulled up in the shadows just inside the entrance to the Peninsula. I’d have to walk the rest of the way down the driveway, but there were lights at regular intervals, so thankfully I wouldn’t break an ankle.

“I’ll wait right here for you,” Brooke said. “Have a good time. Hope the twins get a large dose of karma.”

On impulse, I reached over and gave her a hug. I’d never been a hugger, not with anyone but my mom, but when Brooke returned the gesture, I got a lump in my throat. This “friends” thing was weird. It was like having to learn a whole new language.

A couple of cars slowed to drive past as I walked to the hotel, but nobody stopped me or questioned why I was there. And, as predicted, the twins had forgotten to ask a member of staff to check invitations at the door. I just breezed past, desperately trying to look as if I belonged. And I sort of did. The costumes were spectacular—no last-minute cobbled-together outfits here. I dodged a Queen of Hearts and a sexy devil on my way to the ballroom, but before I got there, I heard a sound that warmed my heart. Karma had arrived early.

“How was I supposed to know you needed a forty-inch-high table?” Kayleigh asked, presumably speaking to the DJ since that had been one of his demands.

“Because I listed it in the rider.”

Which was saved in the shared drive for the event. Had Kayleigh bothered to read it? No, of course she hadn’t.

“Why didn’t you bring your own table?”

“Because I flew here from New York, and the deal was that you either provided an appropriate DJ desk or paid the excess baggage fees. You said you’d provide the desk.”

“I definitely didn’t.”

“Well, somebody at your company did.”

The forty-inch DJ desk was in the barn at The Lookout, the one I’d converted to store our equipment. As far as I knew, Kayleigh had never set foot in there.

“Can’t you use a regular table? We have plenty of those.”

“No, I can’t. Either you find me what you promised, or you can handle the music yourself.”

I smothered a smile as Frankie Flux strode past me, his eyes hidden behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He was a tall guy with a shock of hot-pink hair, and he’d probably need to visit a chiropractor if he tried to play his set on a dinner table the way Kayleigh wanted him to. Still, that was her problem tonight. How would she handle it?

I soon found out.

My phone buzzed with a message, the first time she’d been in touch in two weeks.

Kayleigh

Where do I get a forty-inch DJ table?

No “please,” no “I’m sorry we fired you,” just a question. More of a demand, really. A part of me itched to reply because I hated to see the company I’d created suffer, but if I helped Kayleigh tonight, she’d never learn her lesson. I tucked the phone back into the beaded purse Brooke had lent me and carried on to the ballroom. Let the chips fall where they may.

The band that would entertain the guests for the first two hours was already on stage, playing a Bruno Mars cover. The quartet was made up of local guys—well, they came from Portland—and I’d hired them to play events in the past. They’d take a break halfway through their set for the birthday girl’s father to make his speech, and Hadley’s best friend wanted to say a few words too, then dinner would be served in the room next door.

The flower arch was set up in one corner of the ballroom, so at least the twins had managed to get one thing right. A photographer was standing in front, snapping away as groups of girls pouted for the camera. Wait… He wasn’t a professional photographer. That was Lillian’s friend Cody, and the only thing he was good at was keg stands. Nearly every picture on his social media was blurry. I let out a groan before I could stop myself.

“Bad day?” a voice asked from behind. “Or isn’t this your kind of music?”

I turned to find Prince Charming watching me from behind a blue velvet mask. Were his blond hair and blue eyes real? The hair was slicked back with a side part, as if he’d stepped out of either the 1940s or Wall Street. Or Hollywood—he sure did have a movie-star smile. But the smile soon slipped, and he ran his tongue over his teeth.

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