The Ugly Girls' Club: A Murder Mystery Thriller

by C. A. Wittman

  Louise looked vindicated.

  “Mom, can I please go with Emma and everyone?” Cassandra asked.

  Louise’s eyes lingered on Oliver, slid back to Jill, and finally to Brenda, who had said nothing during the entire exchange.

  “Okay,” she said. Jill’s agreement with Louise had the unexpected result of convincing her that Oliver’s was a safe place for Cassandra to be.

  Cassandra, overcome with excitement, grabbed Emma up in a hug.

  “Would it be alright if we stop by my house so I can get my things?” She asked Oliver.

  “Sure,” he said with a tight smile.

  “Bye, Mom,” Emma said. They exchanged one more brief hug, and Emma told Hunter’s parents it was nice to have meant them.

  From the field to the parking lot, Emma ran into Posie, walking between her parents, Donovan just behind her and Sam next to him.

  “That was a nice commemorative speech you gave,” Emma said to her.

  “Thanks.” Posie wore big dark sunglasses and it was hard to gauge her expression. Her mother looked tired and gave Emma a wan smile. Posie’s father placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him, but he smiled warmly at Emma.

  “Congratulations,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, congratulations,” Donovan added. “You look nice, by the way.”

  Emma felt her face grow hot. “Thank you.”

  She dared not look at Sam.

  Twenty minutes later, they’d piled into Oliver’s Mercedes SUV, a vehicle he rarely used. As he pulled away from the school, he looked pensive.

  “Y’all ready to get that bread?” Nisha called out.

  “I’m so ready to yeet that wheat!” Emma yelled back.

  “Obtain that grain!” Cat said with a huge grin on her face.

  It was a thing the three of them did when they were super excited about something. Hunter and Cassandra laughed. The air felt electric.

  “Em!” Nisha yelled. “Girl, put on “Good As Hell.”

  Emma opened up Spotify and plugged her phone into her dad’s adaptor.

  When the music started, Nisha sang along, doing the call and response with the rest of them as they

  danced in their seats.

  Emma leaned back, brushing her hair from her face, her smile felt melded to her face. Middle school was over. They were going to a slammin’ party that Blue Mars was throwing at her dad’s house. She was suddenly pretty and thin. Summer was going to be fire.

  Chapter 22

  “Emma, can I talk with you?” Oliver asked, crooking a finger at her. He’d paused outside his room. Emma waved her friends on, then followed her dad into his suite.

  Oliver closed the door, and Emma leaned against the beige love sofa in the small sitting area that preceded the bedroom.

  Oliver crossed his arms. “I have to admit,” he said, “I’m a bit nervous having you and your friends here at Mia’s party. I suppose I didn’t think it through, allowing you to invite them. Your friend, the one with the eyebrows—her mother was very uptight.”

  Emma placed a hand on his arm. “Dad, Mia’s sister Blue is our age.” Emma didn’t mention the picture she saw on Instagram of her dad with Blue and Mia at a nightclub somewhere.

  “Well, Blue is just one girl, darling. She’s mostly under her older sister’s care and she’s a bit more worldly than your gang.” He dragged his index finger across his brow. “What do you say we have a nice evening, swimming and eating the Chinese you girls made, and later tonight I take all of you to Jill’s?”

  A sharp dart of disappointment shot through Emma.

  “Dad, please. You can’t do that. You told everyone it was okay.”

  Oliver’s brows drew together, and he looked away. “It’s really a party for older people, Em.”

  It suddenly dawned on her that Oliver did not know that hordes of teenagers were due to arrive at his place later that night.

  “It would be difficult to monitor your friends all evening,” he continued. “I wouldn’t want something untoward to happen to any of them, or you.” He tried to smile at her, dipping his head and giving her his sincere look.

  Emma felt desperate.

  “Dad, lots of young people are going to be here. This is, like… everyone knows about this party.”

  Oliver straightened up, a sharper focus in his eyes.

  “Who is everyone?”

  Emma swallowed. She hated to do this, but, also, she was sure she must stay. Not only for fun, but to keep an eye on things. Her dad was clueless. Although he was the father of a teenager, he didn’t know teenagers.

  “Dad, Blue posted the party on Instagram. I don’t even really know Blue all that well, but that’s how I found out you were having a party here.”

  “Instagram,” he echoed.

  “Yeah. Blue announced she was going to have a birthday party in Malibu, and then she posted pictures of her and Mia, with you, at a club.”

  Oliver closed his eyes for a moment. Tiny beads of sweat had appeared on his upper lip. “I think I might have to call Mia and cancel everything,” he said.

  Emma gripped her father’s arm harder. “Dad, I can help you. If you cancel, people are going to show anyway.”

  He was clearly startled.

  “You can hire security or bouncers to keep things in check. Let me stay. I can keep an eye out for drunk and high teens, get them an Uber or Lyft home.”

  Oliver looked aghast rather than reassured.

  “If you hire security, it’ll keep things from getting out of control.”

  “I don’t think I can find bouncers at this late hour.” He shook his head. “This is not what I had in mind when I told Mia she could have a party. No. I’m sorry, Emma, but I think I need to take you and your friends home.”

  “My friends can help me,” Emma said quickly. “We won’t drink or anything. We’ll keep an eye out, make sure people behave.”

  The not drinking part was a lie, but she promised herself she wouldn't let herself get so wasted that she didn’t know what was happening. Emma waited, holding her breath, to hear what her dad would say.

  Oliver ran his hand back and forth along his forehead.

  “No. And that’s final, Emma. You can enjoy the evening, like I said, but then I will be taking the lot of you home.”

  Emma squeezed her hands into fists and tried not to cry.

  “I’d appreciate it if your friends didn’t breathe a word of my throwing a party here, especially when I blatantly lied to that woman, letting her believe that this was going to be a quiet sleepover.”

  Emma thought about Jill and how she might react if she dropped by with her friends any later than seven at night.

  “I don’t think Mom will be happy if we show up during the twins’ bedtime ritual or when they’re asleep.”

  Oliver froze. Emma could see he knew she was right.

  “So that leaves the other parents. You’ll have to come up with a reason for why it’s suddenly not okay for us to stay here.”

  Her father ran his tongue over his lips and closed his eyes for a moment. Emma kept going.

  “And if you cancel, Mia and Blue are going to be really upset. It’s Blue’s birthday, and she’s been planning this party for a month. There’s no way they can reach everyone in time to let them know it’s been canceled.”

  Oliver opened his eyes and sighed. He walked over to the window in his bedroom and gazed out of it for a full minute. Finally, he turned around. “I don’t want any of you drinking, understand?”

  Emma stiffened, giving a quick nod. He was saying yes.

  “And your friends are not to breathe a word of this to their parents.”

  “Yes, totally. Don’t worry. They won’t tell their parents.” Emma pretended to zip her lips. Her dad allowed a tiny smile. “And we’ll help you find bouncers,” she added. “I’m sure someone knows someone. We still have a few hours. Maybe even Blue or Mia might know people.”

  “Yes,”
Oliver said uncertainly.

  Emma thought of Blue—her dark eyes and full lips—and felt a little sizzle of excitement in her belly. But then another thought came to her, deflating her ebullience.

  “Dad?”

  “Hm?”

  She didn’t know how to ask the question, but she had to know.

  “Blue, Mia’s sister.” Emma swallowed, her throat feeling hot.

  Oliver’s eyes met hers, radiating curiosity and concern.

  “Blue is not…”

  Oliver waited and then leaned toward Emma. “Blue is not what?” He asked.

  “Blue is not your lover, is she?”

  Oliver’s eyes widened with alarm, and he drew back. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

  A furious blush swept up Emma’s chest into her face.

  Oliver eyed her, his expression changing from incredulity to fear. “That wasn’t in Instagram, was it?” He asked in a low voice.

  “No,” Emma stuttered.

  “Then why?”

  Emma didn’t know what to say. A static silence crackled between them.

  Her father ran his hand over his hair and turned away. “The doll,” he said. He faced her again. “Emma, I’m sorry you had to see that. But it’s… well, sometimes I have needs…”

  “Dad. I don’t want to hear about that.” Emma backed away.

  “No. Of course not.” He straightened up. “But you see now what comes of snooping. We all have our private lives; however, I swear to you I’ve never been with Blue in an intimate way, or any other young girl.” He swallowed, looking deeply uncomfortable. “I’m sorry that you saw what you saw and that it has given you such an unsavory impression of me.”

  Emma desperately wanted the conversation to be over.

  “I believe you,” she said.

  He gave a curt nod and a stiff smile. “Why don’t you go join your friends?”

  “Okay,” Emma said softly and headed for the door.

  “Emma?”

  She turned around.

  “Your mother did a good job, helping you. As tactless as she can be sometimes, I must give credit where credit’s due. You look marvelous, dear.”

  Emma smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

  At six, Ezra showed up with the food and warming dishes. Emma and Hunter bustled about, helping him set everything up on the patio. They had swum for several hours, fingers and toes shriveled into pruny wrinkles. Cat, Nisha, and Cassandra had gone to shower and change, padding through the massive living room and leaving wet footprints on the mottled marble grey floor.

  Decorative lights were strung outside, and on one of the patio tables were two massive chocolate cakes, one of which said Congratulations, Graduates and the other, Happy Birthday, Blue. There was a full bar, the bartender due to show at eight, and the DJ at eight-thirty. As Emma carried a stainless-steel pan of shrimp fried rice, she noticed her dad standing by the bar and frowning at the liquor. He glanced at her when she passed by and gave her a tight, worried smile.

  “Should we help your dad put the liquor away?” Hunter asked. Earlier, Emma had explained everything to her friends, and they’d agreed to stay mostly sober and help her keep an eye on the partygoers.

  “There will be adults at the party, too,” Emma said.

  “But also a lot of teens,” Hunter stressed.

  Emma fell silent, undecided.

  “You know, your dad could get sued or worse if something were to happen to any of the kids on his property,” Hunter said. “The house is on a cliff.”

  Emma’s fingers fluttered to her lips as she stared at Hunter.

  “We can help him put away the hard liquor and leave out the wine. It’ll give a classier atmosphere to the party. You want to play down the impression of a rager.”

  Emma studied her friend, thinking. Hunter wore green leggings and strappy black heels, eyes shadowed green and framed with green mascaraed lashes. Barrettes held back the sides of their cropped hair, bangs falling in one thick cascade over their left eye. Glittery blush sparkled on their cheeks, and silver earrings that matched their sheer top glistened under the ambient light.

  “Okay,” Emma said.

  “Dad, we can help you put the liquor away,” she offered.

  Oliver glanced at her and nodded. “Yes, let’s do that. I think it’s a good idea. I have some crates in the pantry.”

  “We can get them,” Emma said, glad that Hunter was with them, a voice of reason.

  Twenty minutes later, they’d removed the liquor, arranging the bar to look like a wine tasting event.

  At seven, they sat down to eat the Chinese food they’d made the day before. Nisha eyed the cake that said Congratulations Graduates.

  “Can we eat that now? Or are we waiting until later?” She asked.

  “No, no. It’s for you,” Oliver said, springing up to cut slices of cake. “Who would like a piece?” He asked jovially.

  Everyone’s hands went up, and Emma felt a sense of serenity descend over her when her dad handed her a plate. “Here you are, love.”

  It was chocolate mousse cake with whipped chocolate frosting, and it melted, creamy and sweet, on her tongue.

  “Oh my god. I’ve died and gone to Heaven,” Ezra said, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Where did you get this masterpiece?”

  Oliver looked pleased. “My housekeeper, Tilda, made it. She bakes as a hobby and often makes cakes for friends and family—birthdays, weddings, that sort of thing.”

  “She needs to open her own bakery,” Nisha said, having inhaled her first piece and standing to get a second. Everyone laughed. “I’m not kidding,” she said over her shoulder, cutting herself a generous second slice. The sky had turned the color of burnt orange, casting a silky golden light over the little dinner party.

  “Hello?” A voice called out to them from the living room. A moment later, Mia stepped through the open French doors onto the patio, carrying a box of liquor.

  Already tall, she was towering in gold stilettos. Mia wore a sleek black jumpsuit—a skin-tight fit that tapered up into a halter, the sides and back open. Narrow strips of fabric managed to cover little more than her nipples. She’d cut her blond hair, and it now grazed her collar bone, glossy and chic. Her full lips were painted red, and her face was bronzed and sun kissed.

  Oliver stood and came around the table to take the box from her hands, leaning in to give her a kiss. “You look stunning,” he said, too blissed out over her beauty to care about the liquor she’d brought. Emma’s and Hunter’s attempts to tame things down were made moot inside of a second. Behind Mia came her sister, Blue, and Blue’s crew: Suri Akbari and Valentina Garcia. It was like watching a group of Victoria’s Secret models descend upon them. Each girl looked spectacular, carrying her own box of alcohol. Blue had a similar jumpsuit to her sister, the cut different to emphasize her hour-glass figure. A plunging V-neck highlighted her ample cleavage. She had long dark hair and brown eyes, contrasting with her sister’s blond, blue-eyed look. The four of them breezed over to the bar, their mingling perfumes wafting over the dinner party. A cloud of sweet citrus, musky amber, and vanilla.

  Ezra, who had been cracking jokes all evening, watched, stupefied. Hunter’s eyes dropped to their green-painted nails, their expression unreadable. Nisha, who sat next to Emma, said in a low voice, “here they come. The Pretty Little Devils, facing off us uglies.”

  Emma swallowed, sitting up straighter and crumpling her napkin in her lap. Cat got up and excused herself, and Cassandra stared at Blue and her friends as if they were aliens.

  Blue set her box on the ground by the bar and turned to them. “Congratulations,” she said, and to Emma, “I had no idea Oliver was your dad.”

  Emma’s throat felt dry. “Thanks,” she rasped. “Oh, and happy birthday.” She tried to smile, but her facial muscles felt stiff. “It was Cassandra’s birthday yesterday,” Emma added, turning to Cassandra, who had turned into a statue, her face reddening.

  “Happy birthday,” the four
of them sang out.

  “Happy birthday,” Cassandra whispered and picked up her fork, examining it as if it were suddenly fascinating.

  “You look amazing, Emma,” Mia said with a generous smile.

  “I know,” Suri said, taking Cat’s seat at the table. “I didn’t even recognize you. You’ve changed so much.”

  “Thank you,” Emma said, feeling a rush of pleasure. Suri’s eyes roamed the rest of them and then landed back on Emma. “We’re going to make cocktails. Pre cocktails,” she added with a light laugh. “Would anyone like one?”

  “Actually,” Hunter spoke up, and Nisha raised a brow, wondering if they were going to go there. They did. “We just put all the liquor away earlier, since there’ll be so many teens at the party—keep things tame for Oliver’s sake.”

  Valentina smiled at them like they were a cute little child.

  “Oliver doesn’t mind. Do you, Ollie?” she asked, her tone taking on a more intimate nature.

  What the fuck. Why was Valentina calling her dad Ollie in that voice? Emma shot her dad a look. He was blushing.

  “It’s okay, Hunter,” Oliver said. “I think maybe I jumped the gun.”

  Jumped the gun?

  Emma tried to catch her dad’s eye. He wouldn’t even look in her direction. It was like he was under a spell—as always when it came to beautiful women, she thought bitterly. Mia sat in his lap and ran a French manicured hand over his hair, the side of her naked breast pressed up against his chest.

  Ezra’s eyes widened.

  “Would you like a cocktail, Ollie?” She asked, her voice satiny.

  “Love one,” he said.

  “Good,” she replied in the same silky tone. “Anyone else?”

  Nisha raised her hand. “Since it’s okay now,” she shrugged and shoved another bite of cake in her mouth.

  Hunter looked up and met Ezra’s gaze. Ezra covered up one side of his face and mouthed a wow to Hunter. Hunter’s brows drew together, and they glanced at Emma.

  “Would any of you like cake?” Emma asked, trying to conceal her discomfort.

  “It looks delicious,” Mia said, “but I don’t eat sugar.”