Private: Ambition Part 4

Gage rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. Whatever. I'd only be the best you ever had, but your loss. Ivy's grandmother got sick toward the end of our soph.o.m.ore year, and she and Ivy were, like, really close, so Ivy decided to go to some school in Boston to be close to her. Then this summer the old lady croaked and voila. The prodigal b.i.t.c.h returns to Easton to wreak hav oc on all our lives." He opened his palms toward the sky with a wry smile. "Happy now?" he asked. Not exactly. This did not add up at all. Ivy as caring granddaughter? Ivy giving up her whole school life to be there for a member of her family? That so didn't track with the girl I knew. The girl who was always ready with an obnoxious comment. The girl who had tried to keep all of Easton out of the most exclusive party of the year. The girl who had allegedly bro ken into said grandmother's house intending to steal something. The girl who had dropped a guy who clearly liked her and gone after my guy before I'd had even a day to mourn our rela tionship. "One more question," I said, unable to stop myself. "Make it quick. I have to take a p.i.s.s before my club meeting," Gage said. Charming. "Are Ivy and Josh... are they, like, seri ous?" I asked, filleting my heart down the middle and leaving it wide open to his answer. Gage looked at me for a moment, and for that one moment I swear I saw actual compa.s.sion in his eyes.

"Please. Ivy is never serious about anyone," he said, standing. Then he turned and faced me and opened his arms. "Besides, the girl does have a brain. She'll be coming back for more of this in no time." Gag. But still. I hoped he was right.

"Has everyone come up with a guest list?" I asked that night. Via e-mail, I had reminded each of my Billings sisters that they were to create their own lists of invitees for the fund-rais er--friends, family, people with cash. We were getting down to the wire, so I hoped that every one had made time to work on it between cla.s.ses. "Got it!" Portia announced, holding up her rhinestone-covered PDA as everyone else murmured their a.s.sent. "Mine's handwritten. Is that bad?" Constance asked, biting her lip. "It doesn't matter what format it's in as long as you have one," I replied. "Now I need someone to volunteer to compile them all and cross-refer ence for any duplicates. Volunteers?" "I'll do it!" Kiki offered. Her mouth was full of the mini eclair she'd just popped into it, but I got the gist. Vienna had ordered up a few dozen delica cies from the French bakery in town, which were now being pa.s.sed around on silver platters.

"Great. Everyone get your lists to Kiki by the end of the night," I directed. "We'll also be inviting every Easton alumni under the age of sixty-five. Ms. Lewis e-mailed me the list today, and I'll forward that to you as well," I told Kiki. "Okay," Kiki said, taking Constance's list. "What do I do with all the addresses once I have them?"

"Actually, I was kind of hoping that maybe you and Astrid could come up with some kind of gorgeous e-mail invite to send to everyone," I replied. "We can mock it up now and then just add in the locations once we have them. Sound good?" "I'm in!" Astrid announced. "I just got this new design software from my dad that's still in prototype. It's killer," Kiki added. Noelle sat forward in her chair and cleared her throat. "E-mail? Really?" she asked, looking up at me like I had suggested fingerpainting the invites. "Isn't that sort of gauche?" I felt my fingers start to curl. I had decided to go with her theme. Did she really have to contradict my one piece of in put in front of everyone? I mean, I know I had flirted with her man and all, but did that mean I was never going to get a say in anything ever again? No. I wouldn't let her step all over me that way. So I'd flirted with Dash. Last year she'd helped kidnap my boyfriend and had left him for dead. I'd say we were even. Until she found out about the fact that I'd almost slept with Dash. That might tip the scales in her view. But as of now, she didn't know about that.

"It's the fastest and cheapest way to reach everyone," I told her patiently. "If we have to get invitations printed and stamped and mailed, by the time the guests receive them, it will be two days before the party." Noelle raised her palms. "Point taken." I let out a breath. See?

She wasn't trying to control things. She was simply voicing an opinion. Way to overreact, Reed. "Okay, I think that's it for tonight," I told the room. "If anyone has any suggestions for us before we leave for New York on Sat.u.r.day, stop by my room and let me know." The meeting broke up with everyone gabbing happily and comparing their lists, swiping a few more treats from the platters around the room. I suddenly felt too exhausted to move. It was difficult, keep ing up appearances and being a leader when my mind was on Josh and Hauer and a million other things. It took a lot out of me. Noelle stood, selected a small tart, and wrapped it in a linen napkin to bring with her upstairs. I had been hoping for a moment alone with her and was glad she had hung back from the crowd. "I swear, with the amount of c.r.a.p we've been con suming at these meetings, the eating disorders in this place are about to skyrocket," she joked. "Noelle," I said, wiping my palms on my wool skirt, "have you heard anything about De tective Hauer meeting with Josh this afternoon?" Noelle smiled sympathetically. "Worried about the boy who dumped you? You're so sweet."

The boy who dumped me? I'd never told anyone that was how it had happened. Did she know, or did she just a.s.sume? Did she know more about that night than she had let on? "I didn't-" "I'm just messing with you," Noelle said, stepping toward me. "I heard it was just a rou tine questioning. Because apparently she used the same stuff to off herself as she used to mess with him. There's an obvious connection." Obvious. Obvious that Cheyenne was a nut job who was capable of anything. Why wouldn't they just chalk her death up to suicide and let it go? "Besides, didn't you say you both left campus before they had a chance to question you?" Noelle asked, arching her brows. "Maybe they're just now catching up with Hollis as well. If, of course, that was really the reason for your visit with the police the other night." My face turned warm. I felt as if she could see right into my brain. "Right. That makes sense."

Noelle smirked, then instantly shifted gears. "Don't worry, Reed. He'll be fine," she said kindly, soothingly. "He can take care of himself." "I know." Or maybe Ivy was taking care of him. "Come on. You can help me with my Spanish. You're one of those dorks who love home work, right?" she joked, knocking me with her arm as she pa.s.sed me by "I'll be right up," I told her. I hoped she was right--I hoped Josh was fine without me--but the idea that he could be only made my heart ache worse. As much as I was trying to move on and cling to my anger with him over Ivy, I hated not knowing what was going on with him. I hated not being able to be there for him. I hated myself for doing this to us.

LIFE AFTER HOLLIS.

I had never been inside a Drake Hall common room before. It was nice. Cozy. There was a fire in the old stone fireplace, big leather chairs all around the room, and the walls were pan eled in dark wood. It had the feel of a mountain lodge. Not that I'd ever been to a mountain lodge, but I imagined this was how it would feel. Unlike the common room on Josh's floor in Ketlar, there was no big-screen TV or boys shouting over a round of Guitar Hero in the cor ner. The few guys dotted around the room were studying, carrying on whispered debates. This was where the real students lived.

"So, where are you from, anyway?" I asked Marc. I leaned over the open Tupperware box on the table between us, chose one of the flaky, homemade desserts his mother had sent him, and leaned back in my comfy leather chair. "We're supposed to be interviewing you,"

Marc reminded me. "I'm bored of me," I replied. "Let's talk about you for a while." Marc smiled and turned off the recorder, which sat next to the Tupperware. "I have one more question first, off the record," he said. "Sure," I replied, licking some powdered sugar from my lower lip. Whatever I was eating was d.a.m.n good. "Is this an interview or a date?" he asked. My heart skipped a surprised beat. "What makes you think it's a date?" Marc looked at the floor and rubbed his hands together shyly. He glanced up with a tentative expression. "Constance said something about a list...."

I laughed and finished off my little pastry. "Trust Constance to stick her nose in. So maybe it is a date." I didn't want it to be a date. Not really. I didn't want to be on a date with anyone other than Josh. But that was what this was supposed to be. So I said it. "Is that okay with you?" His eyebrows shot up. "Very okay." I felt a bit guilty after that. Like I was giving him false hope. But I soldiered on. "Good. So where are you from?" I asked again, reaching for an other pastry. "Miami," he replied. I paused mid-bite. When I thought of Miami, I thought of neon lights, hot pink spandex, and loud music. Marc was none of these things. His very being screamed New Englander. "Really? But you're so--" "Preppy? Ambitious? Sober?" he sup plied. "Okay," I said.

"I never really fit in there," he told me. He leaned back in his chair and laid his arms on top of the chair arms, then started to tap a beat on the front of them with both hands. "My older brother, Carlos, was born to live there. All my friends worshipped him because he, you know, raced cars and knew all the bouncers and had a different girl over every night and never seemed to actually work a day. They thought he was the coolest thing ever. I just thought it was sad. I couldn't wait to get out of there." "Wow," I said. "Too much information?" he asked.

"No. Not at all. It just sounds familiar," I replied.

"You have a s.l.u.tty, drag-racing older brother?" Marc joked. I laughed and reached for my coffee cup. "No. Not that part. Just the part where you couldn't wait to get out of there." "Didn't fit in out there in central Pennsylvania?" he asked. My paranoia flared instantly. "How did you know where I was from?" "Reed, I'm a reporter. I'm doing a story on you. Come on," he said, turning his palms up. "I thought the story was more about Billings." "Yeah, and you're pres ident of Billings. The girl who's singlehandedly trying to save it," Marc said. Like, duh. "You're kind of central to the story." "Oh. Right." I laughed.

And as I laughed I realized that I only ever laughed anymore when I was with Marc. I looked at him and he looked at me and I felt nothing. Zero tingle. Zero attraction. Zero emo tion. He wasn't Josh, but I liked being with him. It made me forget the other stuff. There was a definite possibility that this guy could be a good friend. "So. How big's your scholarship?" he asked with a wry smile. "Like I'd ever tell you that," I responded, and smacked his arm lightly.

"I'll get it out of you eventually," he told me, reaching for one of the pastries. "It's what I do." I sipped my coffee and settled in. We spent the next hour talking about how surreal it was to be at Easton without trust funds behind us. Our hopes of breaking into the Ivy League. The crazy birthday gifts our parents cobbled together during leaner years. In the end it was one of the most enjoyable nights I'd had in recent memory. And he didn't even try to kiss me at the door. As I strolled away from Drake Hall, I felt somehow lighter. I knew that there was definitely going to be life after Josh Hollis. Maybe not with Marc, but with someone. Someday. Maybe even soon. It was actually possible.

Friday night was movie night at Billings--at least, for those who didn't have dates or visiting parents. As I approached my dorm, I saw the dim glow of the plasma screen through the front window of the parlor and knew that most of my friends were inside, riveted to whatever words of wisdom Cameron Diaz or Reese Witherspoon were imparting this week. I yanked open the outer door of the dorm and paused. The inner door was ajar, propped open with the bronze doorstopper that was only ever used on move-in day to facilitate the pa.s.sage of huge suitcas es and trunks. The red security light on the keycard slot was blinking and emitting a low, inef fective beep, annoyed that the door had been ajar for too long. What was it doing open? And why hadn't anyone noticed?

I stepped inside and nudged the heavy doorstopper aside with my foot, then quietly closed the door. I could see Sabine, Constance, and Kiki sitting in the parlor with their hair spilling over the back of one of the couches. Nothing seemed amiss. Part of me wanted to go in there and ask them about the door, but if I did, I knew that Constance would pump me for the de tails of my date, so instead I quickly slipped upstairs. Big mistake. The second I opened the door to my room, I froze. Literally. It was freezing inside. Something moved in the dark. Fear instantly overcame me and I slammed the door, pressing myself up against the wall outside. Someone was in there. Someone was in my room. My heart was in my throat. Why would someone be skulking around in my room in the dark? Were they leaving another surprise for me? Or did they have something even worse planned? Whoever was in there knew I was out here now. We were playing a waiting game. Him or her in there. Me out here. Who would crack first?

Ever so slowly, I turned and pressed my ear to the door to see if I could hear the culprit moving around inside. I held my breath. There was nothing. Dead silence. Was this person on the other side of the door right now... listening for me? Why were they doing this to me? What had I done to deserve this? Down the hall, a door opened and laughing voices emerged. I looked up to find Lorna and Missy walking out of the Twin Cities' room with a bunch of folded blankets. They stopped in their tracks at the sight of me still bundled in my coat, my gloved hands pressed into the door along with my left ear. "What are you doing?" Missy asked with a sneer. Freaking out. Losing my mind. Having a panic attack. "Someone's in my room," I whis pered. "Sabine?" Lorna asked at full voice. I felt so desperate I wanted to cry. But at least I had backup now. At least if I opened the door, they would see there was someone in there too. I'd have witnesses. "No. Sabine's downstairs," I whispered hoa.r.s.ely. "I think someone's sneaking around my room." "Like who?" Missy asked. "Everyone's in the parlor." I pressed my lips together. I hated that of all the people in Billings, it was Missy who had to be here for this, but she was better than no one. "I don't know. Maybe someone from outside Billings," I said, thinking of the open door. "Will you guys please just go in there with me? "

Lorna looked a little freaked, but she nodded resolutely. "Sure." "Thanks." I turned slowly, trying not to make any noise, and silently turned the k.n.o.b. "One, two, three," I whispered. Then I flung the door open. Wide open. And braced myself for some kind of attack. I didn't even realize I had closed my eyes until Missy shoved me aside from behind and I was startled into looking around. "There's no one in here," she said, flicking on the light. She was right. The room was deserted. "No, but it's freezing," Lorna added. She dropped the blankets onto my bed and walked across to my window, which was wide open. The wind coming through the ever-present screen sent the curtains billowing into the room. The curtains. That must have been what I had seen. The curtains moving.

As Lorna slammed and locked the window, my face burned with embarra.s.sment. I was turning into a paranoid freak. And Missy Thurber and Lorna Gross had been there to witness it. "There's no one in the bathroom, either," Lorna said, checking it. I turned and checked both closets, now almost hoping I'd find some psycho lurking about. Anything to make me look like less of a paranoid delusional nutcase. But there was nothing. "You don't get enough attention around here?" Missy said with a smirk. "Now you have to create fake stalkers? Poor, poor President Reed. Always such a victim." "You know, you're even uglier on the inside than you are on the outside," I snapped. Missy's jaw dropped. For a split second I actually thought she was going to cry, and I didn't even care. I was too pent up, frustrated, and embarra.s.sed to care. And besides, why did she always have to be so rude? She had no idea what was going on in my life. No clue. And did she care? No. She just lived to attack me. "You are such a b.i.t.c.h," she said through her teeth. "You may have everyone else around here snowed, but I know the nice-girl thing is all an act, and sooner or later you're going to get yours, Reed. Just wait." She stomped out of my room with her blankets, leaving Lorna hovering behind. Was that a threat? Had Missy just threatened me? And why had she used the word stalker? I hadn't said anything about a stalker. Just that I thought someone was in my room. Did she know I had a stalker because she was the stalker?

Fab. Now my brain was starting to hurt. "Are you okay?" Lorna asked me quietly. "Yeah," I said, catching my breath. "I'm fine. I'm just going to... get ready for bed." "Okay." Lorna picked up her blankets and went after Missy. I closed the door and rechecked everything, just to be safe. The bathroom, the closets, under the beds. Nothing seemed amiss. I took a deep breath and tossed my coat on the hook behind the door. Then I turned to my dresser for my pajamas and froze. No. Couldn't go in there. No drawers. Rationally, I knew that all I had seen were the moving curtains, but I was irrationally scared anyway. I pulled my sweater off over my head and glanced at the closet. No. Couldn't go in there either. Feeling childish, I folded my sweater and placed it atop my closed laptop. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. Beaten down by my own paranoia. I didn't want to wash my face or brush my teeth or check my e-mail or do anything. My bag for tomorrow was already packed, sitting on the floor at the end of my bed. If I went to sleep, I could wake up and go to New York. Get out of here and not see this room for two whole days. Two whole days in a place that didn't know me. Two whole days in a town where Cheyenne's memory couldn't haunt me. Two whole days where whoever was messing with me couldn't reach me. New York. The words were like a promise. I would feel less crazy there. I knew I would. Jeans and T-shirt still on, I crawled un der the covers and, leaving the overhead light blazing, attempted to get some sleep.

POWER TRIP.

The lobby of the exclusive Gramercy Park Hotel was like something out of a modern-goth Alice in Wonderland, with its checkerboard floors, abstract art, ornate chandeliers, and dark stone walls. Yet it was somehow cozy. Comfortable. Welcoming. In two words it was this: Not Billings. I felt myself start to breathe easier as we stepped further inside. There was a couple at the front desk surrounded by piles of b.u.t.tery leather luggage, a tiny dog peeking out from the woman's handbag. A group of men in tailored suits strode by us in heated conversation, clearly on their way to some high-powered brunch, and they all stopped talking to check us out as they went by. One even surrept.i.tiously snapped our picture with his phone, which Lon don and Vienna automatically posed for. This was not the kind of clientele one might find at the Super 8 in Croton. This place oozed glamour. I wondered what our suite would be like. Imagined a sumptuous bed I could sink into and sleep in for real. For hours and hours and hours without dreams. I shook my head. I had a long day ahead of me in the most exciting city in the world, and suddenly, all I wanted to do was go to bed. "Miss Simmons, Miss Clarke, good to see you again," the bellboy--who was way too cute to be a bellboy--greeted them as he loaded our bags onto a cart. "I'll take this up to your suite. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

London looked at the rest of us expectantly. "Should we lunch out, or have them bring something to our room?" "Lunch? It's ten-thirty in the morning," I pointed out. "And we have appointments to keep." "So we'll do brunch," Vienna said, sinking into a red velvet chaise. She leaned back and kicked her heels off. "G.o.d, it's so good to be home." "Home? But you don't live here." Sabine said it like a question, glancing around almost warily. Apparently, she didn't feel as comfortable here as I did. London and Vienna laughed. So did the bellboy. "Prac tically," they said in unison. "You can take our things up," Noelle told the bellboy, handing him a few crisp bills from her Louis Vuitton wallet. "We'll let you know if we need anything else."

As the bellboy silently disappeared, Noelle sat down on the chaise near Vienna's feet and slid her arms out of her coat. "I say we head up to Sarabeth's for brunch, then hit Bloomingdale's and Dylan's. I'm definitely going to need chocolate later."

"OmiG.o.d, totally!" London squealed, perching on the edge of a round-backed love seat.

"And Sarabeth's has that French toast with the--" "You guys, we can't go out for brunch right now," I said, hovering with Sabine as the three of them got comfy. "We have an appointment to see the Regent in half an hour, then another at the studio at eleven-fifteen. I blocked out time for lunch at twelve-thirty." "What are you, auditioning to be a cruise director? " Vienna joked, checking out a sungla.s.sed couple as they walked by to see if they were anyone worth seeing. "Yeah, Reed, why don't you just relax?" Noelle suggested. "This is a vacation. And be sides, I went to a wedding at the Regent last year, and they tried to pa.s.s off this c.r.a.p caviar from Maine or some G.o.dawful place as something decadent. People were spitting it out into their napkins all night." She, London, and Vienna all snickered like they were in on some in side joke, which just made me feel uncomfortable. Sabine as well, if I was reading her closedoff body language correctly. There was no way I was going to let Noelle completely hijack this weekend. I needed her input, definitely, but she wasn't going to tell me how to run this whole thing "You guys, this is not a vacation," I said pointedly. "We're here to plan a fund-raiser to save Billings, remember? And I don't care about the caviar, because I wasn't planning on serv ing any anyway. So get your b.u.t.ts in gear. We've got appointments to keep." Vienna and London looked at each other, and Vienna pushed herself up in her chaise, rolling her eyes. "G.o.d, Reed. You sound like my mother," she said. But she grabbed her black cashmere coat and stood. "As long as we get to Dylan's at some point today, I'm happy," Lon don said with a shrug. "Now that you brought it up, I can't stop thinking about their cappuccino gelato. Dee-vine. " Noelle eyed me as the Twin Cities b.u.t.toned their coats and smoothed their hair. I knew she couldn't believe she'd just been unceremoniously snubbed, and I felt a quick rush of triumph. I was in charge now. She was just going to have to get used to it. With a heavy sigh, Noelle finally arose and picked up her coat. "All right, then. We'll go. But it is an ut ter waste of time." "We'll call up the car!" London announced, grabbing Vienna's arm as they traipsed off toward the front desk. Noelle slowly belted her black coat and looked at me with narrow-eyed interest. "You really are enjoying this power trip you're on, aren't you, Gla.s.s-Lick er?" "Just doing my job," I said with a forced smile.

She smirked and strolled off after the Twin Cities, leaving me alone for the moment with Sabine .Her brows knit as she adjusted her new, very trendy white cloche hat. "Why does she call you Gla.s.s-Licker?" she asked. I paused, letting the memory of my first-ever conversation with Noelle wash over me for a moment. Letting myself relish the fact that even though she couldn't give up the nickname, our positions in life had completely changed. So much so that the insulting moniker was starting to feel like a joke. An homage to times gone by. A term of endearment. Somehow, it didn't hold the same power it used to. "It's a long story," I told Sabine, looping my arm through hers the way London and Vienna were always doing. "Along, stupid story."

"Oh my G.o.d, Vienna! I thought Etienne was going to die when he realized you let some one else trim your bangs!" London cried as we stepped out of the Lange family's chauffeured limo somewhere on West Thirteenth Street. A stiff wind nearly blew me off my feet, and a pair of NYU boys eyed us with interest as they strolled by. "I think he actually cried. I swear I saw a tear," I added. "Well, that's what he gets for refusing to come up to Easton every week to shape me," Vienna said blithely, flicking her hair away from her face. "I even offered to pay for his transportation, but no. He simply cannot be away from the city for an entire afternoon,"

she added, putting on Etienne's thick French accent. "It would mean disastre!" We all laughed, slightly high on the triumphs of the morning. Not only had the proprietor at Ta.s.sos's studio of choice practically bent over backward to accommodate us once we'd dropped the photographer's name, but Vienna had guilted the owner of her salon into canceling all his ap pointments for next Sat.u.r.day afternoon so that we could rent out the entire facility. We'd even had a chance to swing by Dylan's Candy Bar to load up on sugar. So far I'd consumed almost half a pound of gummy bears and a Wonka Bar. I was having actual fun, and had hardly thought of Josh or Cheyenne or Ivy all day. So far, so perfect.

"He should know better," Noelle sniffed as she looked up and down the sidewalk, trying to pinpoint our destination. "You and your sister have been his most loyal clients ever since you first sprouted hair." "I forgot you had a sister," Sabine said to Vienna, hugging herself against the cold. "Will we get to meet her at the fund-raiser?" "Are you kidding? She practically peed in her pants when I told her about Frederica Falk and the photo shoot. She already sent me her donation," Vienna said. "What about your sister, Sabine? Did you invite her?" I asked.

"She's out of the country right now," Sabine replied, her face brightening at the subject. "But she so wishes she could come. I think she--" "Where is this place?" Noelle asked, interrupting Sabine. Quite rudely, I thought. "I can never remember which entrance..." Suddenly, a plain black door right in front of us opened and out stepped the single most perfect specimen of manhood I had ever laid eyes on outside a movie theater. He was tall, with highlighted blond hair, golden stubble all along his cut cheekbones, and blue eyes that could cut steel. His suit was black, his shirt a pristine, crisp white that was opened one extra b.u.t.ton to show the top of his tanned chest. For a moment none of us breathed.

"Reed Brennan?" he asked with an inquisitive smile. London had to forcibly shove me for ward. "That would be me," I said to the supermodel. His smile widened and he opened the door further. "Welcome to Suite 13." "I don't care where we have this thing, we're hiring this guy as our doorman," I whispered to my friends. "I second that!" Vienna offered. Giggling like girls at a tea party, we hustled inside. "I'm Lucas, the a.s.sistant manager of Suite 13," Mr. Hot said as he led us down a dimly lit hallway with red-gla.s.s lamps hanging from the ceiling. He of fered me his hand to shake. It was warm, strong, and very large. "Here at the suite, we pride ourselves on being one of the most versatile s.p.a.ces in all of Manhattan. With our high ceil ings, moveable booths, and huge square footage, we can turn our suite into anything your heart desires."

We came out onto a balcony with two staircases on either side, descending at a curve to a large, pitlike room. There were huge bars on either side, and round, suede booths in dark jew el tones dotted the room, surrounding a gleaming black dance floor. I could just imagine the place decorated with dark floral centerpieces and swags of cloth, flashbulbs popping, and champagne flowing. It was incredible. "Oh, no," Noelle said under her breath. "Yeah. I know,"

Vienna replied. "Not good." "What's going on?" I asked. "Is there a problem?" Lucas added, gripping the railing with one hand. "No. Not at all," Noelle replied smoothly, tossing her hair over her shoulders. "I just need to confer with my friends for a moment." "Take your time," Lu cas replied. He moved a few feet off and whipped out his Treo. Noelle tugged my arm, lead ing all four of us into the tiny alcove outside the bathrooms. "We can't have it here," she whis pered. "Why not? I like it," I replied.

"Dash had his seventeenth birthday party here," Noelle said, glancing over her shoulder. "I forgot about it until I saw the room." My shoulder muscles coiled at the mere mention of Dash's name. At the not-so-new but still annoying realization that he and Noelle and everyone at Easton had had very full lives before I ever showed up there. That he and Noelle had a shared history I would never be a part of. I knew that hooking up with Dash had been wrong, but it still stung that he had been able to dismiss me so easily, without so much as a phone call or an explanation. All of this. .h.i.t me from every angle as I stood there with Noelle, Sabine, and the Twin Cities waiting for my comment. "So?" I said finally. "That was almost two years ago." "Exactly," Sabine added, taking my side as always. "And you heard what Lucas said. The room can be anything we want it to be. We can make it look completely different."

Noelle smirked and glanced over at Vienna, who hid a laugh behind her hand. London sim ply chuckled out loud. Clearly, they were all so very amused at our naivete. Which, of course, made my blood boil. "First of all, it doesn't matter what Mr. Universe over there says, people will know it's the same place," Noelle replied in a facetious tone. "This is supposed to be the event of the season. You don't want it to feel as if it's been done before, do you?" "You really don't," Vienna put in with a shudder. "Like, really," London added helpfully. I looked at Sabine, who suddenly seemed as uncertain as I felt. These people were, after all, the experts. And we still had four more places to see. One of them had to be as good. Still, I hated kowtowing to Noelle. Especially with the sting of Dash's name still searing my skin. But what else could I do?

"Fine," I said through my teeth. "Let's just go." As we said goodbye to an understandably confused Lucas (I think he'd noticed our collective drool), I realized that even this far away from Easton, I wasn't completely free of my drama. Until Noelle had mentioned his name, I had forgotten that Dash was supposed to be in the city this weekend. That he and Noelle were supposed to have dinner with his parents. Would he pick her up at our room? Would tonight be the first night I laid eyes on Dash McCafferty since the Legacy--the night he'd laid his eyes all over me? So much for my focus.

MAYBE PRINCE.

Noelle couldn't stop checking out her own a.s.s. As soon as we'd returned to the suite at the hotel, she'd taken a shower and then come out wearing a black dress that looked staid and conservative from the front with its high neckline, but had such a low-cut back that you could practically see the top of her b.u.t.t crack. For the past fifteen minutes she'd been stand ing with her back to the mirror, craning her neck so that she could study the effect. "Dash is a b.u.t.t man," she explained. "You'd think he'd be a b.o.o.b man, but he's totally not." She finally turned around to smooth her hair. As I sat on the edge of my double bed, all I wanted to do was grab a chunk of her brown locks and tear. She had been talking about nothing but Dash for the past hour. About how he had booked them a separate room in the hotel so they could be alone later. About how it had been so long since they'd been together that he wasn't going to be able to keep his hands off of her. It all made me so vilely ill I was growing belligerent. I wanted Josh, not Dash. I did. But I was so sick of hearing about how much Dash wanted Noelle. So sick. "Why would you think he'd be a b.o.o.b man?" London asked, clicking off her cell phone. She looked down at her own mega-b.r.e.a.s.t.s, as if a.s.sessing whether they could ev er grab Dash's attention. Vienna was in the corner, trying to wheedle free champagne for the photo shoot out of some vendor who'd done her mother's third wedding.

"Look at his father," Noelle said. "He may act all proper and upright all the time, but he's had several mistresses over the years and every one of them? Double-D's. At least." Now I had to glance down at my own flattish chest. The fact that Dash had been attracted to me at all did kind of prove he was a b.u.t.t guy. But of course, I couldn't weigh in. "So you think s.e.xual preference runs in the family?" Sabine asked, holding a dress up to herself as she looked in the smaller of our two mirrors. "Like it's genetic?" Noelle rolled her eyes. "I wasn't trying to be scientific, Frenchie. I was just talking." Sabine blushed and went into the bathroom to change her clothes. Yet another of Noelle's pointless jabs had hit home. What was her damage? "So, I really think we should go with Loft Blanc," Noelle said, grabbing her lip gloss and leaning to ward the mirror. "It's the hottest new venue in town. People will be beyond impressed if they see it on the invite." Loft Blanc was this admittedly amazing s.p.a.ce in the Meatpacking District with high ceilings, huge windows overlooking the Hudson, and an incredible collec tion of modern art adorning its otherwise stark walls. It also had outdoor, rooftop s.p.a.ce, but considering I was 0 for 2, with rooftops in the past year, that wasn't much of a selling point for me. Besides, it was November. Who wanted to mingle on a rooftop in New York in Novem ber?

"We've already been through this. There's no way we're having it there," I told her, getting up and whipping my navy blue dress out of the closet. "Move on already." Noelle paused with her lip gloss wand on her bottom lip. She shot me an annoyed look in the mirror, then slowly closed the tube, put it down, and turned to face me. "Okay, that's it," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. In the mirror, her dress shifted enough so that I actually could see her b.u.t.t crack. If Dash's mother was anywhere near as uptight as her reputation indicated, she was just going to love that dress. "What is your problem today?"

"I don't have a problem," I said, yanking my sweater off over my head. "You're the one with the problem. We're supposed to be making money on this thing, remember? Raising five million dollars? We can't spend five million if we want to make five million." I shoved my jeans to the floor and stepped into the dress, zipping it up the side. Then I went over to the fulllength mirror, subtly nudging Noelle aside, and started brushing through my hair like I was try ing to bald myself. Sabine returned from the bathroom, looking simply elegant in a dark gray sheath. "Everything okay?" she asked me. "Fine," I said through my teeth. "Reed, I thought I was here to help you make the right decision. I think we can all agree I know more about these things than you do." Noelle walked over to her dresser and selected a pair of diamond earrings from her small Herve Leger bag. "You don't have to insult her," Sabine said, irked.

"I wasn't. I was merely stating a fact," Noelle replied. Sabine squared her shoulders and turned toward Noelle. "It sounded like an insult to me." And to me. But I didn't say so. London got up and quietly slipped from the room, while Vienna continued to battle it out on the phone, oblivious to the rising tension. "Reed, haven't you ever heard that old adage, 'You have to spend money to make money'?" Noelle asked, ignoring Sabine and training her attention on me. "Or is there so little cash where you come from, the phrase never happened to trickle down?" "See! Another insult!" Sabine pointed out, lifting her hand. My face was burning at this point, but I was used to that. I was used to Noelle's barbs. I knew they didn't really mean any thing. It was just her way. Still, the fact that Sabine was so offended on my behalf made them sting a bit more than usual. "We don't have any money to spend, Noelle," I said, dropping my brush on the vanity with a clatter. "I say we go with the St. Sebastian. It was a beautiful s.p.a.ce and much more traditional. The older alumni will appreciate it." The St. Sebastian was this an cient, converted church with an arcing ceiling and beautiful stained gla.s.s windows looking down from above. When the proprietor showed us photos of the many ways they had trans formed the s.p.a.ce for weddings, alb.u.m launches, and fund-raisers, I was sold. Plus it was rea sonable. As reasonable as one could get in NYC. Noelle, of course, thought it had been done.

"Fine. We'll do it your way," Noelle said. She spritzed a cloud of perfume, then stepped through it. "But we're going to spend more money dressing that place up than we would if we simply went with Loft Blanc."

At that moment the doorbell to our suite rang. My heart all but stopped. "I'll get it!" London shouted from her bedroom on the opposite side of the sunken living room. "Dash is here,"

Noelle said, grabbing her clutch purse and a sheer silver cardigan off the vanity. "We can talk more about this later." Dash was here. Dash was here. Dash was here. The moment Noelle was out of the room, I double-checked my hair and gave myself a quick powder, blush, and lip gloss makeover. "Finally I get to meet the famous Dash McCafferty. Is he as big a b.i.t.c.h as his girlfriend?" Sabine asked. I rolled my eyes, shoved my feet into my shoes, and walked un steadily out to the living area of our suite, my ankles teetering thanks to the thick carpet and my nerves. Noelle was halfway to the door. London was just about to open it. Vienna came tearing out of my room behind me, phone closed now, and rushed to London's side, all smiles. What the heck were those two up to? Not that I cared much at the moment. All I could think was that Dash was behind that door. What would he say to me? What would I say to him? Would Noelle be able to tell what had happened between us?

London whipped open the door and everyone froze. The guy standing on the threshold was not Dash McCafferty. He was, in fact, Dash's physical opposite. Tall, sure, but tan. Dark. Lean. With long black hair that just skimmed the bottom of his earlobes. Dominic Infante. Do minic Infante and a single purple orchid in a white ceramic pot. He glanced around at each of us, dotted as we were around the room, and stopped on me. "Reed. You look lovely," he said, holding out the orchid. Whahuh? "Look what we imported just for you!" London announced. She and Vienna flanked the door like a pair of game-show models showing off the latest prize. Noelle glanced back at me over her shoulder, amused. "Guess someone else has a date tonight," Noelle said. Realizing it was my turn to speak, I took a few steps forward. "You came all the way down here from school just for me?" I asked Dominic. He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my legs, my hips, my chest, and then my face. "Wouldn't you?" My heart actually fluttered. "d.a.m.n. Good answer," Noelle said be hind me. Dominic handed the potted orchid to me, and London whisked it right out of my hands. "Shall we?" Dominic said, stepping aside to make room in the doorway. I looked at London and Vienna and their insane Cheshire grins and knew there was no way I could turn this down. Not without a fight. And why would I want to? Why not get out of here before the torture of seeing Dash and Noelle together could occur? Why not hit New York with a gor geous Italian maybe-prince? This weekend was supposed to be about distraction. About get ting away. I could think of no better method of escape. I smiled and grabbed my coat. "I guess we shall."

PART OF THE FAMILY.

"This place is incredible," I said to Dominic, laying my long, flat menu aside. When we had arrived at the small restaurant, tucked away in the West Village, it hadn't looked like much. Just a brick bas.e.m.e.nt in someone's brownstone. But once inside, we had been ushered through the small, cozy dining area and out onto this even cozier patio, where only a dozen in timate tables were placed among the trees that grew right out of the brick beneath our feet. There were heat lamps placed around the periphery to ward off the November chill, and white twinkle lights were strung from the tree branches overhead. I couldn't believe places like this existed in Manhattan. "I'll tell my cousin you said so," Dominic replied. "Your cousin?"

"Yes. My cousin Antony owns this place," Dominic said casually. His accent really was al luring. "There is usually a long wait list to get in, but when I told him of your beauty, he man aged to clear a table for us."

I blushed as I looked across the tiny table at him. Dominic had been saying things like this ever since we left the hotel, but I couldn't tell if he was serious, or if he was just feeding me lines. But then, what did it matter? I could use the ego boost either way. "I was thinking that af ter this I might take you to a couple of my usual places," Dominic said, placing his menu down. "Usual places?" I asked. "Clubs. Have you done the club scene?" he asked. "Um, no," I replied. "And I'm not really sure I should. I have to get up kind of early in the morning." "Well, you could always just stay up all night," Dominic replied with a smile. A suggestive smile?

"That's what I usually do." "We'll see," I replied. Time for a subject change. I didn't want to know what he thought we would do if we stayed up together all night. "So, is your cousin here? I'd love to meet him."

"He promised to bring out his special dessert for us personally." Dominic took a sip of his white wine and smiled. "If we make it through the first four courses. The service here is truly Italian. Which means excessive." My stomach grumbled as a delicious -looking dish was car ried past our table. "Sounds good to me. I'm starving," I replied. Dominic smiled. "A girl with an appet.i.te. Are you sure you go to Easton?" I laughed and felt myself truly start to relax for the first time all night. Suddenly I felt grateful to London and Vienna for blindsiding me with this date. If I had gone out for dinner with the two of them and Sabine, I was sure the conver sation would have centered around the fund-raiser and maybe even Cheyenne. Maybe they would even have gotten around to asking me what happened with Josh. But here I was simply being showered with compliments and attention. A much more satisfying way to spend an evening. "Actually, you'd be surprised by how much the girls in Billings can put away," I told him. "Just a couple of days ago we--"

My cute little anecdote died on my tongue as I heard familiar voices just on the other side of the patio door. I had about half a second to prepare before Noelle stepped out into the courtyard, with Dash's hand on her waist. I felt as if the bricks were falling away beneath the legs of my chair. So much so that I actually gripped my armrests for support. Dash. Dash's lips, Dash's hands, Dash's eyes, Dash's longing desperation. Suddenly every image, every feeling, everything from the night of the Legacy came rushing back, hitting me like a tidal wave to the chest. Dominic and I had scored the back corner table, and in the dim light Noelle had yet to spot us, but Dash had. He had looked right into my eyes the second he arrived, as if he had expected me to be there. But then he tripped. He braced himself on one of the tree trunks to keep from going down. My heart was in my throat. Okay. So maybe he hadn't entire ly forgotten that night. "Dash! Are you all right?" his mother asked. She could only be his moth er. Tall. Blond. Perfectly manicured and coiffed. Then his father, the spitting image of Dash, but with salt-and-pepper hair. , "Just a couple of days ago you... ?" Dominic prodded, un aware that anything was amiss.

Noelle finally figured out where Dash was looking and spotted me. I endeavored to smile. She whispered something to Dash's parents and they all looked over. Dash cleared his throat about ten times and straightened his tie. Finally, at the obvious prodding of his mother, he cleared it one last time, squared his shoulders, and walked over to us. OmiG.o.d. OmiG.o.d, omiG.o.d, omiG.o.d. "Is something wrong?" Dominic asked. "Dash," I said through my teeth. "What?"

"Dash McCafferty is here," I said. Dominic looked up just as Dash arrived at our table. "Reed. Dom. How are you guys?" Dash asked, his tone formal. "McCafferty!" Dominic cheered, get ting up to hug his former dormmate. "How are you? How is everything at Yale?" Thank G.o.d Dominic knew him. If I had been forced to speak first, I might have thrown up on Dash's ex tremely buffed shoes. As the two of them briefly caught up, I stared at the underside of Dash's chiseled chin, a thousand questions flooding my mind. Why haven't you called? What the h.e.l.l happened that night? Why did you get back together with Noelle ? When ? And why do you have to be So. Effing. Hot?

Not that I could have said any of those things with Dominic there and Noelle looking on. Not that I could have said any of those things without dying of mortification even if Dash and I had been alone. "Reed," Dash said finally, turning toward me. I looked up at him. My many queries must have been blatantly readable in my eyes, because I stopped him cold. "I..." His jaw worked. "You look... I mean, it's been a while." "Not that long," I heard myself say. A pang of something crossed his face. Regret? Annoyance? It was impossible to tell. And then Noelle swooped in. Her coat had been removed, but she wore the light, open-weave cardigan over her dress, camouflaging her b.u.t.t crack, apparently, until she could get Dash alone. "Hundreds of restaurants in Manhattan and here you are!" she said gaily, taking Dash's hand. "What are the chances?" "I'm glad you decided on this one," Dominic said politely. "You're in for a won derful meal." "Well. Let's get to it then," Noelle said. "You two have fun!" She practically dragged Dash away, but not before he was able to say one last thing over his shoulder. "See you guys at the fund-raiser." And that was that.

Noelle and Dash joined his parents at their table in the opposite corner. Mercifully, the two of them sat with their backs to us or I would have never made it through the meal. Still, I couldn't help glancing over every now and then and noticing how comfortable Noelle looked with his parents. Touching his dad's arm, making jokes with his mom. As if she was already part of the family. Seeing Noelle and Dash together, I couldn't help but imagine what the rest of my night would be like. Best-case scenario? I returned to the suite and Noelle came back alone to gush about her dinner with the McCaffertys. Worst-case scenario? Tomorrow at brunch I'd hear about the hours Noelle and Dash had spent in their suite, sharing their mutual admiration for the female backside. Ew. "You know what, Dominic? I'm in," I said. His eye brows shot up. "For what?" "The clubs," I said, reaching for my wine. "I'd love to check out your usual places."

UNDER THE INFLUENCE.

Dominic danced with a champagne bottle gripped in one hand and the other hand locked around my waist. From the moment we stepped through the doors of Platinum--a place where nothing related to the name aside from the fact that everyone there was constantly whipping out their platinum credit cards to pay for insanely overpriced bottles of alcohol--he had not been without a bottle. Had he been working on the same one all night, or was this his sec ond? It couldn't be his third. No one could consume that much without regurging. Although from the way his brown eyes swam in their sockets, I wouldn't have been totally shocked if that was the case.

"Having fun?" he asked, his face looming ever so close to mine. Even with that proximity, it was difficult to hear him over the deafening music. "Absolutely!" The DJ was amazing, after all. And the dancing was a release, as long as Dominic wasn't breathing in my face. Every where I looked I saw vaguely familiar faces. Models, rap artists, rock stars, young socialites. Champagne flowed, diamonds flashed, girls squealed and posed for pictures. I wondered how many of these moments would end up eternalized in the tabloids the next morning. "Reed! I love this place!" Sabine shouted, throwing her arms around my neck from behind. She tugged me away from Dominic, and I felt as if I could breathe again. "Thanks for inviting us!"

"You're welcome!" I shouted. The moment we left the restaurant I had speed-dialed Sabine and the Twin Cities, hoping they would (a) make this part of the night more fun, and (b) give me an excuse to avoid kissing Dominic and/or going back to wherever he was stay ing. From the way he'd been looking at me all night, I had a feeling he had one or both in mind. Thank G.o.d Platinum had turned out to be a Twin Cities--approved destination. I turned around to dance with Sabine. Dominic moved right in behind me, grinding against my back. I tried to ignore the invasion. "Where are London and Vienna?" I asked. "They saw some guys they knew, so they're bringing them over," Sabine shouted in reply. She glanced over my shoulder at Dominic and made a disgusted face. I was feeling a little disgusted myself. "I'm taking her to the bathroom!" Sabine yelled at him. Then she grabbed my arm and pulled me away. I had never been more grateful. "I will be here!" Dominic shouted after us. We got to a less crowded corner of the dance floor and Sabine stopped. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you for getting me out of there, though," I said, leaning toward her ear. "He was totally fine until he started drinking like a sponge. Now all of a sudden he's Mr. Inappropriate Touching." "There you guys are!" London sang, holding Vienna's hand aloft as she wove to ward us. They both had full martini gla.s.ses, the liquid sloshing over the sides as they walked. The guys they had brought along looked like two Abercrombie models, one with dark skin and a white shirt, the other with light skin and a black shirt. Both ridiculously hot. "Let's dance!" Vi enna said, throwing her arm over my shoulder. I glanced behind me, but couldn't spot Do minic in the crowd. Who cared where he was, anyway? A few minutes without his paws all over me felt like a good idea. Plus this place was so jam-packed there was a decent chance he'd never find us again. Might not be the most polite way in the world to end a date, but at least it would be easy. And this weekend I was all about easy.

"Don't worry about him," Sabine told me, clearly noticing that I was in crowd-scan mode.

"I'm sure he's already molesting some other girl. Hopefully one who feels like being molest ed." I laughed and decided to just live in the moment. And so I did. I danced with my friends, letting go of everything. Letting the music move through me. Letting it shove out all thoughts of the guys I wanted and the girls they apparently wanted instead of me. Letting thoughts of Billings and its possible closing and of the strange, Cheyenne-related happenings fade. I just let it all go and had fun with my friends. Eventually white-shirted Abercrombie boy moved from Vienna to me and we danced together for a good half hour. Unlike Dominic, any touching he did was appropriate. He had incredible rhythm and an even more incredible smile. Hmmm. Maybe the next boyfriend of the Billings president could be a wild card. Someone from out side Easton's walls... Now all I had to do was find out who the heck he was. "What's your name? " I shouted, leaning toward him. "Fine!" he replied, smiling and nodding to the beat. Yeah. Communication was not so easy inside Platinum. Whatever. I decided to let it go and just dance. Which was what I was doing when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and had to peel my hair from my sweaty cheeks. Dominic stood in front of me, his face gleaming, the champagne bottle still in hand. "You never came back from the bathroom,"

he said. "I couldn't find you," I lied. He grinned. "Well, good that I found you, then." He took a slug from the bottle, then offered it to me. "Drink?" he asked me for about the millionth time that night. "No, thanks." I wrinkled my nose. I had already downed one gla.s.s of wine at the restaurant and I did not want to get drunk. I had learned my lesson at the Legacy and the day after. Being hungover again was not in my immediate plans. "You have had nothing to drink since we got here," he accused. "So?" I replied. "So you should lighten up. Look around. It's a party." He spread his arms wide and clunked a Hollywood starlet in the head with his bottle.

"Hey! Watch it!" she shouted, shoving him. Dominic merely laughed.

"I know it's a party, and I'm having fun," I shouted at him. I glanced back at Abercrombie boy, but he had moved on to some chick in a pink wig, d.a.m.n it. "I don't need to drink to have fun!" I told Dominic. Dominic snorted a laugh, wavering slightly in place, then took another slug from the bottle. "Cheyenne was right about you," he said. My blood seemed to freeze in my veins. I looked over my shoulder at Sabine and the Twin Cities. Apparently they had heard it too, because they had all stopped dancing. "Excuse me?" I said. "She was always saying how you had this stick up your b.u.t.t. Which made sense, since you were from the sticks," he said with another snort. "Shut it, Infante!" Vienna snapped, coming over to stand next to me. London and Sabine gathered around as well. "Just because you're a pseudo prince doesn't mean you can talk to my girl like that." Dominic sniffed and took another drink. "Wait. You and Cheyenne talked about me?" I demanded, my heart pounding a mile a minute. "When? Why?"

"Cheyenne was an old friend," he said. "A very close friend," he added suggestively. "She liked to cuddle afterward. And talk." Vienna and I looked at one another, skeeved. "You hooked up with Cheyenne? When?" Vienna demanded. "All the time," Dominic replied, stand ing up straight. "Girl really made her way through Ketlar. But Hollis was her ultimate conquest, and now I can see why he went for her, even though he was with you. Cheyenne was hot be hind closed doors. But you..." He looked me up and down with disdain, a complete one-eighty from the way he'd checked me out at our hotel suite. "You are kind of a frigid b.i.t.c.h, aren't you?"

I felt as if all the wind had just been knocked out of me. I wanted to slap him, but before I could regain my senses, London did it for me. And Dominic was so drunk, he went down like a house of cards right there in the middle of the dance floor. "Ow. That hurt," London said, pouting as she shook her hand. "Wow, London. Thanks," I replied. "Come on. Let's get out of here," Sabine said, putting her arm around me. "I don't get it," I said as we shoved our way through the crowd of curious onlookers who were now surrounding Dominic. "He was so nice earlier." "Bad drunk," Vienna theorized, giving me a squeeze from the opposite side. "I'm sure he didn't mean any of that." "Right." She had a point. I knew from experience that people could turn into monsters when they were under the influence. Look at Thomas. My mother. Even me. Would I have hooked up with Dash that night if it hadn't been for all those drinks? I hoped not. I hoped that my sober self was better than that.

"So. Guess we're scratching Dominic off the list," Vienna said, placing our coat-check tags down at the counter near the front of the club. "Unless you can keep him sober." "Not likely," I replied, forcing a laugh. Besides, I wasn't sure I would ever be able to forget the things he'd just said, drunk or not. Dominic might have been the perfect arm candy of a Billings president on the surface, but he was clearly not for me. Besides, I didn't want any of Cheyenne Martin's sloppy seconds, which apparently meant most of Ketlar was off the table. It was amazing how these boys kept reinforcing what a catch Josh had been. Amazing and really, really annoying.