The Ugly Girls' Club: A Murder Mystery Thriller

by C. A. Wittman

  Blue and Suri didn’t eat cake, but Valentina took a small slice and ate it in tiny bites, savoring each mouthful.

  “How is it?” Suri asked.

  “So good,” Valentina said.

  Mia and Blue had started on the cocktails and minutes later they were handing out Long Island iced teas.

  When Blue handed Emma a plastic cup filled with the cocktail, their fingers grazed, and she felt a shiver go down her back. Emma glanced at her dad to see what he might think of her having a drink, but his attention was elsewhere, on Mia and the other girls, and she realized he didn’t care anymore.

  Mia, Blue, and her friends changed the whole dynamic of the gathering. An infectious, electric feeling of excitement crackled off of them. The bartender and DJ arrived, along with last minute security, secured by Mia, whom Oliver had called earlier with his concerns. Two beefy young men took up their places by the front door and front gate, respectively. Soon, synth music with a driving bass pulsed from the DJ’s power amplifier. The sound bounced off the walls of the house and gobbled up the serenity of their scenic surroundings. The ocean glimmered up at them, a mirror of the ashy grey sky, the last bit of light fading with the sunset.

  Emma got up to go to the bathroom and ran into Nisha and Cat near one of the guest bathrooms. Cat’s eyes were red from crying and Nisha looked impatient.

  “What’s wrong?” Emma asked.

  Nisha clicked her tongue. “Girl, nothing, as usual.”

  “Fuck off, Nisha,” Cat hissed.

  “This little girl is cryin’ in the corner over her looks, or whatever the case may be,” she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, those bitches are out cold. They fresh, but so what? Shit. I came here to get my groove on, not hide in the corner like little Jack Horner.”

  Cat choked back a laugh. “Little Jack Horner,” she echoed. Snot shot out of her nose and Nisha and Emma jumped back.

  “Oooh, girl,” Nisha said.

  Cat covered her face.

  “Let me tell you whatcha gonna do,” Nisha said. “You gonna go wash that mess off your face and go have yourself a cocktail and forget about them bitches. You know what’s worse than being ugly?”

  “Nisha,” Emma said.

  “Shut up,” Nisha said, pointing a finger at Emma. “You done graduated from middle school and from us ugly girls, too, so don’t be sayin’ Nisha. Nisha nothin’. What’s worse than being an ugly bitch, is being a mopin’ ugly bitch. Let me tell you something. No one cares if you’re mopin’.”

  “That’s harsh, Nisha,” Emma said. She glanced at Cat, who still had a hand over her face.

  “Is anyone looking for her?” Nisha said, her voice rising high. “Who noticed she left? Certainly not Mr. D. He was gone as soon as the first of them sirens showed up.” She rounded back on Cat. “Clean yourself up. Put a smile on your face. Have a Long Island iced tea or whatever the fuck they’re making and interact with people.”

  Cat hiccupped.

  Nisha grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’re my girl,” she said.

  Cat nodded.

  “Okay.” Nisha pointed at the bathroom.

  Cat went.

  Nisha focused back on Emma. “Yo, we don’t gotta babysit, do we? Because I want to do my thing.” She did a little swing of her hips.

  “Well, maybe,” Emma said.

  “Girl, bye.” Nisha flounced off.

  Emma pushed her hair off her shoulder, a feeling that things were dissolving into chaos coming over her. She also had another feeling, like she was being watched.

  Across the room stood Blue. Emma wondered how long she’d been there.

  “She’s extra,” Blue said of Nisha and crossed the room to Emma.

  She was holding something in her hand. The music changed to the dreamy, hypnotic “Girls,” by Death In Vegas. The seductive sound of girls crooning wound its way through the airways, the bass guitar seeming to seep into Emma’s body. Blue stood before her in her skin-tight jumpsuit, a teenage Spider-Woman. She put a vape pen to her full lips and inhaled, letting the steam drift out of her nostrils.

  “Do you fuck with vaping?” She asked in a low, husky voice.

  “Sometimes,” Emma whispered.

  Blue held the pen out to her as the beat of the music picked up. She moved her body to the music, languidly raising her arms, comfortable in her skin.

  Emma inhaled deeply and held the vapor for seconds, then released it with a bark of a cough.

  A slow smile spread across Blue’s lips. “It’s a low key high,” she said.

  But it wasn’t.

  Before Blue walked away, she said, “Cat should just keep one hundred. Not trip, you know?”

  Emma nodded, watching Blue head back for the patio, and realized her mouth was full of saliva. She sucked it back, wiping her lips, checking for drool.

  The first wave of partygoers arrived at nine-thirty. In the crowd were Charlie, Lena, Anna, and Jaylene, dressed almost identically in high-waisted ripped skinny jeans. At least they had their own tops, Emma thought. They arrived excited and springy with energy, gaping and giggling about everything.

  “Oh my god, what are they doing here?” Jaylene asked in a loud whisper, pointing out the door at Nisha, Cat, and Cassandra.

  “It’s my house,” Emma spoke up, feeling hostile and invincible in the moment. Whatever it was she’d smoked with Blue had made her feel really confident.

  The four girls stared at her, frowning, and it occurred to Emma that they didn’t recognize her. But then an odd look came over Charlie.

  “Emma?” she said.

  “That is who I am,” Emma said, waving a hand over herself.

  The girls gaped at her.

  “Wow!” Jaylene said. “You look fucking gooch. Didn’t even recognize you.”

  Emma beamed back at her.

  “This is so lit,” Lena said as another wave of people arrived.

  “Blue!” Someone called out, grabbing their attention.

  Blue stood in the middle of the room, a drink in hand, talking with Suri. She turned and waved to another super-model-looking girl and began making her way in her direction.

  “Happy birthday, bitch. You look savage,” her friend said as Blue approached, their whole exchange eclipsing the conversation Emma had been having with Jaylene and the rest of her crew. Blue hugged the girl, then put an arm around Emma.

  “This is my friend Emma. Emma, this is Tanya,” she introduced them. Emma was very aware of all eyes on her. “And this is Emma’s pad.”

  “This place is so gorgeous,” Tanya gushed.

  “Hi, Blue,” Jaylene spoke up, lifting her chin.

  Blue looked at her and her friends dismissively. “Hey,” she said. “Who are you here with?”

  “Who?” Jaylene echoed.

  “You obviously barely know Emma. Did Nisha, Cat, or Cassandra invite you?”

  The girls stared silently at her.

  Blue had overheard them.

  “It’s okay. Stay,” Emma said, embarrassed for them.

  Blue’s hooded gaze lingered on the group of girls huddled together, shoulders tucked in. Then she turned to Tanya.

  “Come outside. Between breaks in the music, Cassandra’s been playing her guitar. She’s a total bully. I want you to meet her.”

  Blue led Tanya out, her dis so complete that Charlie, Lena, Anna, and Jaylene gazed at Emma with long faces.

  “It’s okay if we stay?” Charlie asked Emma.

  Emma nodded and did a little eye roll, feeling like someone else. “No. It’s fine. She was just giving you a hard time. Me and my squad made Chinese food last night. I think there’s some left if you’re hungry.”

  “Thanks,” Charlie said gratefully.

  “Sorry about—” Jaylene started to say but was drowned out by the music, which had started again, a hard, rhythmic drum beat and base. Emma waved them away, feeling on top of the world as more kids arrived.

  A group of rowdy, drunk boys showed up at the front gate. Worried, Emma ste
pped out, watching the bouncer at the gate turn them away. He was joined by the second bouncer, and soon they sent the five obnoxious young men on their way. They were replaced by Sam, Donovan, and Sam’s friends who were dressed to the nines, like last night. Donovan wore black designer jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. His dark hair moussed back, emphasized his square jaw.

  Emma didn’t know why Donovan made her feel odd. A funny, kind of excited odd. A you-have-no-business-feeling-that-way-about-him kind of odd. As they came through the door, his dark eyes caught hers and seemed to pin her on the spot.

  “Hey,” he said. They swept past and Emma watched them over her shoulder, startled when Donovan turned around to glance back at her. She jumped and he grinned, then, with his group, disappeared outside to the courtyard, and Emma decided to have a beer.

  The night continued in a flurry, a blur of faces, loud music, and dancing. Oliver remained out in the courtyard most of the evening, talking animatedly with Sam’s friends, who were loud and flamboyant, laughing uproariously at whatever story Emma’s father was telling them, his mouth half cocked in that crooked smile he got when he was in his element: the center of attention, surrounded by beautiful women. Other times, he made his rounds through the house, greeting guests, patting people on the back, offering drinks. Hunter sat outside as well, their eyes roaming the scene now and then, talking with Ezra until Ezra wandered away with a woman to have a smoke by the railing that blocked off a two hundred foot sheer drop to the beach below. Cat was drunk, splitting her time between dancing crazily and talking loudly over the music with Charlie, who had split off from her squad, the other three girls moving as if one unit from one part of the house to the next. Occasionally, Emma could hear Nisha’s laugh, and always she was eating or drinking something. Cassandra sat near Hunter, taking it all in, playing her guitar and singing whenever the DJ took a break.

  Mostly, Emma followed Blue with her eyes—or Donovan. Sam usually had her arm draped around his shoulder. They were the same height and made a striking couple.

  At one point, Emma saw Hunter going upstairs, and she caught up with them.

  “How’re you doing?” She asked as they climbed the stairs.

  Hunter smiled, but she could see the fatigue on their face. “I just want a little quiet,” they said.

  “You can rest in my room.”

  “Thanks.” Hunter dipped their head. “I thought I’d hang out in that enclave between yours and Oliver’s room. It looked peaceful.”

  “Sure,” Emma said. “Are you okay?”

  Hunter shrugged. “I guess…”

  “What?”

  “Sometimes I feel haunted by Wren and Poppy. I think maybe having a couple of drinks wasn’t the best idea.”

  “Do you want company?”

  They’d approached the area Hunter had spoken of: two cushy chairs set before a dark window.

  Hunter took a seat and rubbed their face. “It’s okay,” they said. “I need a minute alone.”

  “You sure?”

  They nodded and smiled.

  Emma hesitated, then turned around, heading back toward the staircase, only to stop in her tracks.

  Blue was climbing the stairs, head cocked to the side. “I saw you two come up and I was curious,” she said.

  Emma waited for her at the top of the stairs. “I thought you’ve been here before, since your sister is dating my dad.” She winced at her choice of words, knowing that wasn’t exactly what was happening.

  Blue gazed at her. “I meant I was curious about you.”

  Emma felt her stomach drop. “Oh.”

  “Wanna hang?” Blue asked.

  “Like, in my room, you mean?” Emma asked, feeling a little flustered.

  Blue laughed. “Is it messy or something? Don’t worry, I’m a total slob, myself.”

  “You are?” Emma couldn’t quite imagine that.

  “Mostly,” Blue said, levelling her gaze on Emma.

  Emma swallowed.

  “You okay with that?” Blue asked.

  “Oh. Yeah. Whatever. We can hang there for a bit.” Emma took her past Hunter, sitting with their legs crossed, staring out at nothing. They passed Oliver’s suite and opened the door to the next biggest bedroom in the house. Blue stood at the entrance for a moment, her eyes roaming the space.

  It was quite impressive. Eight hundred square feet. Emma’s queen-size bed with a walnut frame sat low to the ground, situated in the middle of the room as if it were being showcased. There was a matching nightstand on the side she liked to sleep on. Two swirly blue area rugs accented the wooden floor. A desk sat under the southern window, with a view of the ocean. French doors graced with gauzy curtains led out to a private balcony. Further left was a massive bathroom and a walk-in closet. Although Emma rarely stayed at her dad’s, she still had a second wardrobe and tended to store sentimental things she wanted to keep but no longer used in the walk-in closet.

  When it came to getting rid of stuff, Jill made Marie Kondo look like a hoarder. Her mother was systematic, regular, and ruthless about organization and things that no longer served their purpose. She even threw away photographs from time to time. As a result, Emma stayed ahead of her, ferreting things to Oliver’s before her mom could get her hands on them.

  “Nice,” Blue said, and shut the door behind herself, crossing the room to peer into the bathroom. “A jacuzzi tub. I love those.” She glanced over at Emma.

  “It’s pretty relaxing,” Emma said. She’d remained by the door.

  Blue looked her up and down. “I love the jets.”

  Emma nodded.

  “We should take a bath.”

  “Now?”

  “Sure. It’d be fun.”

  “That’s kind of… um…”

  Blue waited, dark eyes drilling into her.

  “Kinky,” Emma whispered.

  “So?” Blue said, her voice huskier than before. “Do you wanna?”

  “Take a bath with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I mean…” Emma wasn’t sure what to say. Yes. She desperately wanted to take a bath with Blue. Well, kind of. Things seemed to be progressing at warp speed, as if she’d entered one of her sex fantasies. But for some reason her excitement was eclipsed with fear. Was this normal? No. It wasn’t normal, she decided. Still, she wanted to do it.

  Blue stepped into the bathroom. Seconds later, Emma heard water running.

  “Come on,” Blue called out. “It’ll be fun.”

  Emma moved toward the bathroom but froze when she heard pounding feet. It sounded as if someone were running toward her room. Seconds later, the door flew open. It was Cat. She paused, hand over her mouth, then lunged across the room for the bathroom. Emma heard loud retching and the splattering sound of vomit hitting water. Darting after her friend, she came up short at the strange scene before her: Blue, naked, and Cat, hunched over the toilet, heaving violently. Blue reached for a towel off the holder and wrapped it around herself as Emma leaned over Cat, gathering her hair from her face. The sour, acrid smell of vomit and the slimy feeling on her fingers from a clump that had landed in Cat’s hair made Emma want to gag. Cat’s back hunched, her whole body going rigid, and a foamy waterfall shot out of her mouth. For another minute she continued to heave, but nothing more came. She collapsed to her knees, moaning, resting her cheek on the toilet seat.

  “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Emma said, trying to tug her away.

  “No,” Cat moaned again, clinging to the toilet. Blue helped and they walked her to the sink to clean her face. Emma tied Cat’s hair up with one of her scrunchies and then half walked, half dragged her to the bed, where she crawled on top of the covers and was asleep and snoring in three seconds.

  Blue laughed. “I don’t know why kids drink themselves sick like that.”

  The top of her towel had fallen away, and Emma’s eyes wandered to her breasts. Blue followed her gaze, her laugh dying on her lips.

  “Should we turn out
the lights?” She suggested.

  “Uh…”

  “So your friend can sleep.”

  “Yeah,” Emma blushed, feeling stupid. “Do you need to get your clothes? I mean, of course you need to get your clothes.”

  Blue laughed again and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she was back in her jumpsuit. Their eyes locked and then Blue reached toward the light panel near the bathroom door and pressed it, plunging the room into darkness. For a moment, Emma couldn’t see in the inky blackness, but then her eyes adjusted. A faint glow coming up from the courtyard illuminated the window and glass doors, throwing Blue’s shadowy silhouette into relief.

  “Hey,” Blue’s voice came out of the darkness.

  “Hey,” Emma said.

  A warm hand reached out to touch hers, and Emma spread her fingers to let Blue’s intertwine with her own as she stepped closer. She smelled faintly salty and floral. Emma could feel the gentle puffs of Blue’s warm breath on her face, and her heart took off as their lips touched, the start of a long, slow kiss.

  There was a knock at the door and Emma jumped.

  “Emma?” Hunter’s voice came from the other end.

  Emma disentangled her hand from Blue’s and stumbled across the room to the door, opening it.

  “Oh,” Hunter said, frowning. “Were you sleeping?”

  “No. We were just coming out.” Emma sounded breathless, even to her own ears. Hunter looked past her to Blue, who stepped out from behind Emma, her hand stroking Emma’s butt in a way that Hunter couldn’t see, and that made Emma stiffen.

  “Oh,” Hunter said again. “Sorry.”

  “It’s no problem,” Blue said, tossing her long dark hair back over her shoulder. “We were just dealing with Cat. She’s faded. Had to lie down.”

  Hunter’s expression cleared. “Is she super drunk? Because maybe she shouldn’t be lying down.”

  “She’s fine,” Blue said, taking her hand off Emma and brushing past her. “Cat tossed her cookies in the toilet until there was nothing left to come up. She just needs to sleep it off.”

  “We should keep an eye on her,” Hunter said.

  “Sure. Whatever.” Blue sounded bored and Emma realized it was quiet in the house.