The Girls of Mischief Bay

by Susan Mallery

  Julie sighed. “I wish Shane would do something like that. It would be so cool.”

  “You love Shane. He’s a great guy.”

  Julie grinned. “I’d love him more if he was famous, that’s for sure.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I can’t believe he’s going to read part of it to us later. I’m so excited.”

  “What?”

  Her friend nodded her head. “He told me he’s going to read a couple of scenes. It’s totally insider info. I can’t wait.”

  Nicole did her best not to look as shocked as she felt. Reading part of his screenplay? Out loud? Wasn’t that taking things a bit too far?

  “What was your favorite part?” Julie asked. “You must be tired of it by now, so thanks for indulging the rest of us.”

  Nicole managed to keep smiling, even though she felt a little sick to her stomach. She didn’t have a favorite part of Eric’s screenplay because she hadn’t read any of it. He’d never let her. Not once, no matter how many times she asked. But he was going to read a couple of scenes to their friends?

  She handed Julie the condiments. “Would you take these out, please? I want to check on the drink supply. We want to make sure we have enough for everyone to toast Eric later.”

  “Oh, right. Sure.”

  Julie walked through the open back door and into the yard.

  Nicole leaned against the counter. Everything was going to be fine, she told herself. At least she didn’t have to worry about being bored during the reading. But as she stood alone in the kitchen, she wondered what was going on. Had Eric forgotten she hadn’t read his screenplay? Was this a giant snub?

  She told herself she would deal with it later. That right now there was a party and she wanted to have a good time. She checked on the drinks, then took out a container of potato salad and carried it to the patio.

  The three boys had already exhausted themselves running around and were now flopped down on a blanket in the shade of a tree playing with plastic dump trucks. Eric and a couple of the guys stood by the grill. Everyone else was either on folding chairs or on blankets on the grass. Music played from wireless speakers.

  Bits of conversation drifted to her.

  “No, really, have you met anyone famous?”

  “I heard it was like a million dollars. I wonder if they’ll move.”

  “They have a nanny now, you know. Must be nice.”

  Nicole looked at their guests and realized how long it had been since she’d seen any of them. Eric had chosen to bury himself in his screenplay, but what was her excuse? She’d let the friendships wither. Sure she’d been busy, but that was hardly a reason. If she wanted people in her life, she had to make time for them.

  She put more potato salad into the bowl, then carried the empty container back into the kitchen.

  Mark, a friend of Eric’s at the software company where they had both worked, followed her inside.

  “Everyone’s talking about Eric’s deal,” he said.

  “I heard.”

  “It’s fun for all of us. Maybe you’ll get to go to an award show and we can see you on TV.”

  “Maybe. I haven’t seen you and Paige in forever. How are things going? Tell me everything.”

  Mark’s gaze shifted away. “We’re fine.”

  “What?” she demanded. “Is everything okay?”

  Mark smiled. “Everything is great. Don’t worry.” He stepped toward her. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Sure. What?”

  “Paige is pregnant. Three months. We were going to start telling people today, in fact, but then we got the text. This is about Eric and we don’t want to steal the spotlight. But we’re both really happy.”

  “Congratulations,” Nicole told him. “That’s wonderful. I wish you would tell everyone. It’s wonderful, happy news.”

  “Next time,” Mark said, then glanced back outside. “Oh, look. Eric’s going to read from his screenplay. I don’t want to miss that.”

  Nicole watched him walk away, then slowly followed. Shouldn’t news of a baby trump a screenplay reading? What was going on here? Maybe it was her, she told herself. She was overly sensitive. She had a thing against fame and anything remotely entertainment-related because of how her mother had pushed her. But she couldn’t shake the sense of being swept away by something she couldn’t control and didn’t completely understand.

  * * *

  “That’s a lot of pink,” Adam said.

  “Overwhelming is the word you’re looking for.” Shannon stood next to him in the “party room” at Epic Salon and told herself that the paint wasn’t really vibrating on the walls. It just seemed that way.

  Whoever had designed the space had gone all out. While the front part of the salon was quiet and elegant, done in grays and lavenders, back here it was all pink, all the time. The walls, the tables, the chairs, the tablecloths, even the window coverings were shades of pink. Balloons in tones from palest rose to lipstick floated near the ceiling. Pink lemonade filled pitchers on tables. The cupcakes were iced in pink.

  “Now I’m scared about the pizza,” he admitted. “And woozy. Can too much of a color make you light-headed?”

  “I think your testosterone is worried about being overwhelmed.”

  “Rightfully so.” He looked around. “This isn’t normal, right? I’m afraid for a reason?”

  “You are, but you’re going to have to deal. This is what you agreed to for your daughter’s birthday party.” Shannon patted his arm. “Don’t worry. You’re not staying and I doubt a few minutes in this hostile environment is going to be enough to turn you into a woman.”

  “You’re mocking me.”

  “Right now you’re kind of mockable.”

  Adam pulled her close and kissed her. “I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re here to save my butt.”

  “It’s a nice butt and well worth saving.”

  He grinned. “You’re irresistible and as soon as I return my children to their mother’s I’m going to prove it five times over.”

  “Five times, huh? That’s quite an offer.”

  “How about I throw in dinner, too?”

  “Sold.”

  He released her and circled the room. “There’s not much for me to do.”

  She nodded, guessing that was the point. Epic provided a full-service birthday party for the younger set. First the girls would have a mani-pedi, then they would adjourn to the back room for the actual party. Pizza, drinks and cupcakes were provided, along with the decorations. For a guy like Adam, it was a godsend. All he had to do was make the reservation and cough up the credit card. Pretty brilliant marketing, she thought.

  “You’re sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him, thinking that a group of nine-year-old girls couldn’t be that scary. And if she was wrong, she had a bottle of wine waiting back at her place.

  “Because I can stay.”

  “You’re adorable for offering, but I can see the fear in your eyes. It will be fine.” She pushed him toward the door. “Go pay the nice lady for the party. The girls will be arriving soon.”

  Adam nodded and headed toward the front of the store. Shannon circled the room one more time, making sure everything was in place. There was a table for gifts, and another table with the small goodie bags prepared by the salon. Inside was a bottle of nail polish, several temporary tattoos and some plastic costume jewelry.

  There was no present from her fa
ther at the party. He would be giving that to her tonight at dinner. Shannon had declined to attend. She had a feeling that a three-hour party was going to be more than enough family time for one day.

  She walked up front to confirm that everything looked good and found Char in tears and Adam looking frustrated.

  “She won’t say what’s wrong,” he said. “Char, if you don’t tell me, I can’t help.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” his daughter told him. “Just go. I’m fine.”

  “I can’t leave you like this. Your party starts in a few minutes. Tell me?”

  Char sniffed. “Dad, I’m okay. I’m going to have a good party. I promise. Just go.”

  Adam hesitated, then looked at Shannon. “You’ll call me if you need help?”

  “In a heartbeat,” she promised.

  Char stepped close to her. “Shannon’s here, Dad. I’m fine. You should go pick up Oliver.”

  Because her younger brother was at a friend’s house.

  Adam glanced at the door, then back. “Okay, but you know how to reach me.” He kissed them both on the cheek, then left.

  When he was gone, Shannon pointed to the chairs in the waiting area. “We have a few minutes before your guests arrive. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  Char sat and her eyes filled with tears again. “It’s the party. I wanted the skin-care facial and my dad said no. That he wouldn’t pay for it. But when Bree had her party here, we had the skin-care facial and everyone loved it. He says the party is already expensive. But all my friends are going to laugh at me.”

  Shannon felt the hit straight to her gut. She knew Adam had been against the facial from the beginning. She kind of saw his point. Char was only nine and a facial sounded pretty adult. But she hated seeing Char so upset right before her party.

  “I’m sorry Char, but I can’t help with something your dad specifically said he didn’t want you to have,” she said.

  “I know.” Char hung her head. “You can’t go behind his back, even though it’s my birthday.”

  Shannon recognized the attempt to guilt her. No way she was going to fall for it. But she still felt like crap.

  “Is there something we could add to the mani-pedi package that would be different from the other parties?” she asked, confident she was both weak and being played, but unable to help herself.

  Char brightened immediately. “Nail art. No one’s had that.” She pointed to the signs on the wall. “The glitter package.”

  Shannon saw that there was indeed a glitter package for the parties. The price made her wince, but it was too late to back out now.

  She stood and walked to the receptionist. “Then let’s get this party started.”

  Ninety minutes later, Shannon was fighting a killer headache. She’d had no idea ten nine-year-old girls could make so much noise. And at such a high pitch.

  The party itself was brilliant. The salon partnered with a nearby beauty school. The technicians brought in for the event were students. Epic didn’t tie up staff with clients who would not become regulars for at least another decade and the students had an opportunity to practice.

  The glitter package had been a hit. Now, as they waited for their lunch of pizza to arrive, the girls ran around showing off their manicures and pedicures.

  Shannon was kept busy circling the room and making sure everyone had drinks. She’d thought at least a couple of the mothers would stay, but they’d all taken off immediately. Leaving her as the only adult who wasn’t hired by the salon. A fact that made it difficult for her to completely relax.

  There were presents stacked on the table. They were to be opened after lunch but before the cupcakes, Char had informed her. And after the cupcakes, everyone went home. Hallelujah.

  “We’re out of soda,” Char informed her. “Could you see about that?”

  Shannon hesitated. While the pitchers were empty, there was something in the girl’s tone that gave her pause. An imperiousness that was incredibly annoying.

  “Sure,” Shannon said, telling herself Char was simply running on adrenaline. It was her party, after all.

  She went and mentioned they needed more soda to the party coordinator and returned to the back room in time to hear Adam’s daughter say, “Oh, she’s not my stepmother. She’s just someone my dad’s dating. I don’t think they’re even boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “But you like her,” one of the girls said. “She’s really nice.”

  Char shrugged. “She’s okay. We’re not friends or anything. I would never hang out with her.”

  “At least your dad just dates one woman at a time. My dad doesn’t. It’s gross.”

  Shannon turned and walked out of the room. The party coordinator was hurrying toward her, a full pitcher in each hand.

  “Oh, I’ll help with that,” Shannon said, and blindly took one. Because all she could do was keep moving. If she stopped, she would have to think about what Char had said. She would have to admit the truth. That while she’d been looking to get to know Adam’s daughter, Char had only been interested in using her to get a better party.

  Once back in the room, she poured soda into glasses and made sure she was smiling. She admired the glitter polish and told herself she would wallow in being a fool later. That she only had an hour or so left before she could make her escape.

  A few minutes later the party coordinator walked in with several pizza boxes from The Slice Is Right. Shannon helped her set out the food. The girls found seats.

  Char sat at the head of the table. “I go first,” she announced loudly, and studied the open pizza boxes. She pointed to the pepperoni pizza. “I want a slice of that. Shannon, would you get it for me?”

  Every girl turned to look at her. Some seemed shocked by the request. A couple looked gleeful. As if this had been planned. Or maybe they were simply enjoying the opportunity to watch an adult squirm.

  Shannon chuckled, as if Char was making a joke. “You’re nine, not ninety. You can get your own pizza.”

  “But it’s my birthday.”

  “Happy birthday to you.” Shannon scanned the table. “We need more napkins. I’m going to get them.”

  She practically bolted from the room. Once outside, she leaned against the wall.

  Had she handled that right? Should she have just handed her the pizza? She wished she knew the right thing to do. Maybe she was overreacting to what she’d heard—letting her own insecurities color her view of things.

  “Here are extra napkins.”

  The party coordinator pressed them into her hand.

  “Thanks.”

  Shannon sucked in a breath and then walked back into the party. The girls were deep in conversation and didn’t seem to notice.

  After the food, Char insisted everyone sit in a circle and pass her the presents, one by one. She opened them and thanked everyone, but also made a few digs about the choices. It was a side of her Shannon hadn’t seen before.

  She told herself to keep quiet and simply get through the rest of the party. When the guests had left, she collected Adam’s receipt along with her own and carried the presents to the car.

  When the gifts were stacked in the backseat, Char fastened her seat belt and sighed.

  “That was the best party ever!”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Char looked at her. “What?” she demanded. “Why did you say it like that? Didn’t you have fun?”

  “I wasn�
��t there as a guest,” Shannon said. No, she’d been there as some girl her father was dating. Not that she was going to get into that. Simply get the kid home, she told herself. Don’t fight about it. Walk away.

  All good advice, except for one problem. She wasn’t just someone Adam was dating. She was in love with him and they were talking about having a future together. If she let Char’s behavior go, didn’t that make her an accessory to it? Or at the very least, someone who condoned it?

  She wasn’t sure of her place in the situation. What was expected? What was allowed? No one had given her a manual or even basic instructions.

  “I knew you’d be this way,” Char said with a heavy sigh. “I knew you wouldn’t be happy for me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The girl glared at her. “You don’t really like me. You’re just doing stuff so my dad will think you do.”

  Shannon had no idea where the accusation was coming from. “Char, if I didn’t like you, why would I have tried to make your party better? Your dad wasn’t there. He doesn’t know what I did. I did it for you.” She angled toward her. “I have to say, I’m really disappointed by all this. I thought you and I were friends. I’m sorry I’m wrong.”

  Char turned away. “Why are you doing this? Why are you ruining my birthday? You wanted me to have a bad time. I know it.”

  “You’re not making sense. You got everything you wanted. You wanted me to pay for the glitter package and I did.”

  Char swung back to face her. “You offered. That’s not my fault. Besides, it’s my birthday. I get to say. You wouldn’t even hand me a slice of pizza. That was mean.”

  “No,” Shannon told her. “What was mean was when you told Madison that her gift wasn’t expensive enough and that you weren’t sure you could be friends with her anymore.”

  Char flushed. “She bought me socks. That’s a grandma gift.”

  “They were cute and in your favorite colors. You don’t get to judge a gift, Char. That’s the point. People want to show they care. By complaining about it, you’re showing that you’re the one who doesn’t care. You embarrassed your friend in front of everyone. Whatever you remember from today, she’s going to remember feeling sick to her stomach and wishing she could be anywhere but at your party. It’s one thing to be the center of attention on your birthday. It’s another to hurt people in the process.”