Birthday Vicious (The Ashleys, Book 3)
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Ashley was going to freak!
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29 FALLING IN LOVE OR GETTING BURNED? IT'S ALL THE SAME THING
L AUREN WAS A GIRL WITH A MISSION. SHE BARELY even registered the way the Spencer mansion was deco-__rated with thousands of multicolored lights, like a giant version of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. She bolted past the stilt-wearing flame-eaters, hurdled over a forward-rolling monkey--not easy in delicate four-inch silk Blahniks--and practically knocked the whip out of the ringmaster's hands.
It wasn't because she was late--not really late, anyway. From all the shrieking chatter around her from overexcited party guests, she could work out that Ashley had yet to make her big entrance.
But she wasn't worried about missing Ashley's big moment. She wasn't even that worried about Ashley missing
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her big moment--i.e., the unveiling of the brand-new, made-over, Super-Sweet Sadie to her soon-to-be-brand-new friends, the Ashleys.
Sadie had sent her a text saying she would be there soon; she was just waiting for her escort to arrive. WHAT ESCORT? Lauren had asked, but there was no reply. This made her intensely nervous. She hoped Sadie wasn't going to blow it by turning up with some nerd doofus who'd presented her with a wrist corsage to match his nylon cummerbund!
She'd wanted them to arrive together, all dolled up and looking like a million dollars--which was about what it had cost to get Sadie party-ready. But Sadie had begged off, saying she would just meet her there. That was okay--Sadie could take care of herself for the moment, because Lauren had a far more important task to accomplish tonight.
She had to find Christian.
A.A.'s cool mom, Jeanine, had told her exactly what she needed to do. The first thing was to look unbelievably hot. Lauren glanced at her reflection in the enormous Louis Quinze mirror hanging in the expansive front hall--not an easy thing to do when you were getting jostled by hundreds of other partygoers, waiters on unicycles, and a performing iron man who kept lifting unsuspecting (and shrieking) guests into the air and dangling them from one of his giant fists.
She'd kept to the all-purple theme, as agreed, but she still
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felt confident about standing out from the crowd. Her dress was a light lavender color, with frayed hems and a daring neckline. Even Dex, who'd dropped her off, whistled when she walked out to the car, and told her that she looked like one hot tamale--though he immediately tried to make a joke of it, saying that she really looked like a very expensive grape, or possibly just a skinny eggplant.
Even that was praise, coming from sarcastic, cynical Dex. This was the person who'd told her he'd rather have his toes tattooed than go to what he called Ashley's spoiled-brat-a-thon. Not that he was invited: Ashley wasn't into older guys.
Anyway, the second piece of advice from Jeanine was: Find the object of your affections but don't acknowledge him. Parade up and down someplace where he can't avoid spotting you, but play it cool. No smiling, no chatting, no flirting, and absolutely, definitely, no begging to be taken back. This particular task was going to be harder to accomplish, Lauren knew. She was afraid that the second she saw Christian, she'd just run right up to him screaming, "I broke up with Alex! I broke up with Alex!"
And that, according to A.A.'s mother, would be a disaster. She said that guys like a challenge, and that he had to think he was winning Lauren back.
Lauren wasn't so sure about this. Christian was the one
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who'd dumped her, after all: maybe he had no intention of ever winning Lauren back. But she couldn't obsess about this for another second; the main thing was to find him and do the parading up and down. Maybe her sheer chiffon dress and her shiny new pageboy do would win him over. He'd liked her once upon a time, right?
The living room was insane, packed with people gazing up to the mezzanine and its high-wire trapeze. Lauren squeezed her way through, standing on her tiptoes to try and spot Christian. She saw lots of boys, lots of boys who almost looked like Christian, and lots of boys who were inferior to him in pretty much every way--but unless he was one of the guys in bear masks tumbling over the coffee table, Christian himself didn't appear to be in the room.
She fought her way to the sunroom, almost scorching her Miu Miu wristlet purse on one of the rings of fire. Still no Christian! Maybe he was out in the backyard? Lauren pushed through the French doors, but all she could find were animal pens, catering vans, a fire truck, and a Red Cross station where exhausted unicyclists went to rehydrate during their mandatory breaks.
This was a disaster! If Christian wasn't here, how was she going to march in front of him looking sassy and cute and irresistible? Lauren stomped back into the sunroom, so down about the state of her love life that she stepped on one
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of the ruffle-collared terriers about to make a leap over a burning coal pit.
The dog yapped with irritation, and Lauren lost her balance, almost falling over. One of her heels caught in the gap between two slate tiles, and with a sickening snap! it sheared right off. Lauren let out an involuntary shriek and started tumbling into the fire pit. Eek!
The last thing she needed was coal burns on her hands and an evening spent being the most overdressed girl in purple at the ER. Luckily, someone grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her out of the danger zone--a little too vigorously, because Lauren, still wobbling on her broken heel, found herself staggering headfirst into a pillar and hitting her head with a bang. Ouch!
"Are you okay?" someone asked, and Lauren, woozy and disoriented, nodded. Better a concussion than burns, she guessed, tears of pain and embarrassment pricking her eyes. This whole house was a giant hazard.
"Sorry--I mean, thanks," she said, rubbing her head, not caring about messing up her perfect hairdo. She was going to have a nasty bump there in the morning.
"Maybe we should go to the kitchen and ask for a bag of frozen peas?"
"Yeah, maybe." Lauren fumbled in her bag for a tissue. She didn't want a stranger to see her crying.
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"It doesn't feel too bad," the stranger reassured her, his hand gently pressing the crown of her head. "I mean, I think you'll live. You might suffer irreparable brain damage, but I think you'll be okay."
Lauren looked up, her breath catching in her throat. She would recognize that deadpan delivery anywhere. This wasn't a stranger. It was Christian!
"It's fine, really," she managed to squeak, reaching down to pull off the broken shoe. "I just feel kind of stupid."
"You sure were in a big hurry," he told her, his eyes boring into hers. Lauren's heart went ker-plunk. He was just goofy old Christian, in a button-down yellow shirt and rumpled khakis, his green eyes sparking, his dark blond hair smelling clean and apple-ish. But she was so happy to see him that all of Jeanine's advice went out the window.
"I was looking for you," she blurted. Then she didn't know where to look, so she reached down to tug off the other shoe. She'd have to spend the party barefoot--oh well!
"I was looking for you, too," said Christian, his face suddenly anxious. "I wanted to tell you--I don't care. I mean, I just kind of miss you ... so I don't mind if you don't want an exclusive relationship, that's cool...."
"No!" she practically yelled, and Christian looked startled. Luckily, everybody else was too preoccupied with the stupid dog tricks and a rogue piece of white-hot coal that was
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rolling out of its pit and scorching the sunroom floor. "I mean, I do want an exclusive relationship. You were right last week--this is too hard." Christian's face fell.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Well, I hope you and Alex are, you know, happy...."
"Not me and Alex!" Lauren realized that Christian was getting the wrong message. This bump on the head had turned her into a burbling fool! "I broke up with him this week. Didn't you know?"
"Nope." Christian shook his head, but he was smiling now.
"So, can we ... ?" Lauren felt shy all of a sudden.
"Yeah, if that's ... you know, okay."
"Oh, it's okay," he agreed, and then they stood there, not sure what to do next. Lauren wished he would kiss her or something, but then she wished he wouldn't, because they were in such a public place, and she wanted the first kiss of their new relationship to be something amazing and special, without any jumping dogs, burning hoops, or dangerous fire pits anywhere in sight.
"Hey." He nudged her. "Speak of the devil, right? He didn't waste any time."
Lauren spun around and looked toward the living-room
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entrance. Christian was right: There was Alex, looking darkly handsome. And hanging on his arm was a stunning girl whose piercing blue eyes surveyed the room with haughty displeasure.
Her golden blond hair was gathered in loose waves and rippled like sunshine over her bare shoulders, and a killer red minidress halted at midthigh, the better to show off her bronzed calves. On her feet were six-inch YSL stilettos, the kind you could only order from the flagship store in Rome.
Lauren knew this even though she couldn't see the girl's feet, just as she knew those blue eyes were the result of colored contact lenses, and just as she knew the oh-so-casual hairstyle had taken three hours to perfect.
She knew all this because the girl on Alex's arm was Sadie Graham.
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30 SOME KIND OF NOT-SO-WONDERFUL
A .A. WAS ABOUT TO JUMP OUT OF HER SKIN with nerves. What was Tri going to say to her? He'd just started to tell her whatever it was he was desperate to communicate, and then Lili arrived. Instead of hanging around until Lili rushed off a few minutes later to look for Max, Tri sulked and wandered away.
So now A.A. was in a state of total anxiety. If he wanted to ask her out, why not just do it? JUST DO IT! she felt like screaming. Why was it so hard for him to say?
And now A.A. was trapped in the living room, waiting for Ashley to make her extremely late grand entrance. From her vantage point by the vintage lion's cage, A.A. could see Ashley getting snapped and buckled onto the trapeze. Any second
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now she was going to whiz through the air, swing back and forth high above everyone's heads, and then get lowered onto a throne held in place by four contortionists using only their toes to keep the chair steady. Ashley had told them all about it; she'd been rehearsing for days.
"ASH-LEY, ASH-LEY, ASH-LEY!" everyone in the living room was chanting, even the unicycle-riding waiters. Up on the high mezzanine, Ashley sat on the trapeze, a huge smile on her face, accepting the adoration of the crowd.
"And now!" roared the ringmaster MC, cracking his whip so hard that everyone jumped. "Please welcome the guest of honor, the birthday girl herself, the most extrrrrraaaaooordinary young lady to grace the high wire ... Miss Ashley Spencer!"
"Yay!" A.A. cheered as loudly as she could, clapping her hands above her head. Ashley was pretty brave, soaring through the air on what was, essentially, a swing seat. One giant whoosh, and there went Ashley--toes pointed, Grecian tunic flowing, swinging back and forth across the great room like a dainty fairy.
Guinevere Parker was so entranced by the sight, she dropped her tape recorder on the floor without even appearing to notice, and Cass Franklin had to pull out her portable oxygen tank to stop herself from hyperventilating.
"Pretty over-the-top, huh?" Tri reappeared, wriggling up close to her and leaning against the iron bars of the cage.
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A.A. pretended to be watching Ashley getting lowered onto her foot-held purple throne, but her heart had started thudding loud and hard again.
"Literally," she said, trying to sound as breezy as possible. A.A. didn't want Tri to think she'd just been standing here waiting for him, even though that was pretty much the truth. "As in, she's over our heads."
"So, you know what I was trying to tell you earlier?" He leaned close to her, and A.A. wished--not for the first time in her life--that she wasn't wearing such high heels.
"Yeah?" she sniffed. She thought of the advice her mother had given Lauren: Play it cool, don't show them you're desperate, act like they're no big deal. Even when you feel the exact opposite. This was it: the moment of truth. Tri was going to tell her he'd liked her all along, and that he wanted her to go out with him. Yikes!
"I wanted to tell you," Tri said, lowering his voice so much she had to bend over to hear him. "I've been looking around the house, and I found the TV with the Wii attached. It's in the den. I didn't want to say anything in front of Lili in case she made a big deal about us playing a game when we should be dancing or something. But I knew you'd be into it, right?"
"Oh, sure." Now A.A. had to struggle to sound enthusiastic.
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"Great!" Tri gave her a huge grin. "I can't wait to whip you at Black Dragon. I'll go get it set up. Do you want to grab some sodas? Get enough for four, because I'm going to round up some of the guys."
A.A. nodded mutely, trying to keep a false smile fixed on her face. So that was Tri's big news.
It was not: Wanna go out with me? Instead it was: Wanna play? Oh well. They were back to the way things used to be, she guessed. Not boyfriend and girlfriend. Not enemies. Just friends.
Maybe that was all they were supposed to be, and it was time A.A. accepted it.
"Excuse me!" A.A. began her slow march through the crowd, looking for the drinks table. She'd do just as Tri said--pick up a few sodas, then make her way to the den. Playing a few rounds of Black Dragon might be fun.
But somehow, she didn't feel much like fun anymore.
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31 YOU CAN'T FIX A BROKEN HEART. OR A BROKEN CAKE.
L ILI NEEDED TO TAKE A BREAK. SHE'D SPENT THE last ten minutes on her hands and knees, helping the cleaning staff pick the remains of Ashley's cake off the floor and attempt to reassemble it on the table. It was a total lost cause, but they had to try something.
All the big-top cake resembled now was a deflated red-and-white-striped beach ball. The feet and legs of the miniature Ashley had been chomped by Princess Dahlia von Fluffsterhaus, so Lili perched the remaining half on the top of the beach ball, letting the gilt ropes hang from the figure's little arms.
She looked like Houdini trying to make an escape. Lili sighed--what else could be done? Ashley was still going to have an almighty nervous breakdown, but the majority of
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guests wouldn't know the cake had spent way too much quality time on the floor.
All of Max's idiot friends had disappeared, and Lili hoped they'd had the decency to leave the premises. She hadn't even gotten the chance to ask them about Max, but that didn't matter--she'd given up on finding Max here tonight. He probably decided to blow the party off, and sent his pathetic posse instead.
"Young lady, you're covered with frosting!" Her father had finally managed to track her down. Really, he was a hopeless guard dog! She gave a quick explanation about the cake, leaving out the part about the total guilt of Max's friends.
The name "Max" was a dirty word in the Li household this week. "You should go get cleaned up," he told her, pointing to the powder room off the front hall. "The dancing's starting, and we can only stay one more hour, okay?"
Lili scampered off to the powder room, eager to clean the sticky mess off her hands. If she only had one more hour here, she had to make the best of it. After Ashley got changed into outfit number two, they were all supposed to meet at the VIP Ashleys-only dance floor right in front of the cage. It wasn't exactly a romantic evening with Max, but it was better than nothing.
The line for the powder room stretched all the way to the front yard, so Lili darted in the opposite direction, heading
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down a narrow hallway toward the kitchen. The Spencer staff knew her and would let her into the bathroom there, especially because she'd helped them semi-fix Ashley's demolished cake. She held her disgusting hands up in the air, resisting the temptation to eat t
he moist cake crumbs trapped underneath her fingernails, and rounded the corner at high speed.
Oops! She almost crashed into someone sloping along, hands in pockets, not watching where he was going.
Max.
"Omigod!" she squealed, planting a sticky hand directly on his shoulder before she realized what she was doing. He stared with distaste at the red and white residue. "I've been looking for you everywhere! Do you know what your friends did? They wrecked Ashley's cake!"
"So what." He shrugged.
"So what?" Lili was incensed. Max was acting as if he was mad at her, when she had every right to be mad at him.
"I don't care about some stupid cake. And by the way, nice to see you, too." He frowned and began to walk away. She couldn't understand it. Then it dawned on her that Max thought she'd been avoiding him all week, when the exact opposite was true.
"Hey! Wait! Max--forget about the cake. I wanted to tell you I've been wanting to thank you for the flowers, but I've been
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grounded all week and I couldn't call you or anything," she babbled, almost in one long breath. "I missed you so much!"
"Sure," he said, and continued to walk back toward the party. "Whatever."
"Max--I'm telling you the truth!" Lili pleaded. "My mom and dad took my phone and everything--I wasn't even allowed to go to school!"
"That's not what I heard," Max said in a chilly voice, not even turning to look back at her. "I heard you thought the camping trip was the worst thing that ever happened to you in your life! Cassie and Jez said you bitched and moaned the whole time about having to sleep outdoors, and that you totally hated the whole thing."