by Natalie Rios
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Um, we get tossed out? Or arrested for trespassing? Seriously, this will not end well,” Mina insists.
“The cops aren’t going to arrest us for attending a party she invited the entire town to,” I reason. “Think about it. The place is going to be crawling with people. For all they know, we could very well be guests of Fallon’s. I’m assuming you were invited?”
Fallon winces, but nods in confirmation.
“Wonderful! Then it’s settled. We crash this party and make little Emily wish she’d never picked on one of the three amigas.”
Fallon whoops while Mina groans.
And so that, ladies and gentleman, is how Mina, Fallon, and I wound up standing in Emily’s parents’ foyer.
Mina, by the way, is five seconds away from having a heart attack.
“I don’t know how you guys wrangled me into this. We’re going to get kicked out,” she whines.
“Someone get this girl a Xanax. I’ve got this under control.” With a flip of my hair, I lead the way into the room with the biggest crush of people. “Now, which one is Emily?”
“That one.” Fallon and Mina both point to a tall blonde, but my eyes brush right over her.
No, instead of studying my new nemesis, my eyes lock onto the beast standing next to her. I do a double take because I can’t believe my eyes. It’s Brody, dressed casually in a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a plain light blue t-shirt. It’s a tight fit, with his huge biceps stretching out the short sleeves. I bet if he’d been wearing a white shirt, I’d be able to see the outline of his abs.
But alas, I have to make do with a view of his wide shoulders and thick neck, as highlighted by the crew neck cut of his shirt. Why have I never noticed before how muscular his neck is? I just want to wrap my arms around it so I can hang from his neck. It looks strong enough to be able to hold my weight.
Not to be outdone, his legs also prove to be massive. Toned and sculpted hamstrings, quads more closely resembling tree trunks, bulging calves...I sigh in appreciation. Maybe it’s a good thing he wears suits most of the time. I don’t think the world is ready for all the ovulating the female population would be doing if Brody went out looking like this on the regular.
Emily’s dainty little hand suddenly cuts into the perfect image, playfully shoving against Brody’s chest.
Oh, hell no.
It’s show time.
“Ready your breakfast and eat hearty, ladies, for tonight we dine in hell!” I declare as I confidentially march us right into the lion’s den.
“Charlotte’s kind of scaring me right now,” one of them whispers. I haven’t lost my mind. It’s a quote from the movie 300. But there’s no time to explain since we’ve reached our target.
“Emily!” I coo. Her fingers are still resting on Brody’s arm and I have to fight the urge to shake them off. Instead, I lean forward and plant an air kiss by each of her cheeks. Caught off guard, her hand immediately drops. Ah, the sweet smell of victory. “We’re so happy you invited us! Mina and I were just talking about how I need to meet more people.”
Emily’s eyes narrow, zeroing in on where Mina is cowering behind me. Okay, I’m not actually sure if she’s cowering, but her hiding spot is completely unacceptable and I all but yank her next to me. “Tell her, Mina.”
“Um...” Like a deer in headlights, Mina freezes. Which means I will have to do all the dirty work. Fine by me. This is the one thing I’m good at.
“Yes, yes. We’ve been having such a fantastic time and just had to come over to thank you.”
“Who are you again?” Emily asks, looking utterly annoyed I’ve interrupted her little moment with Brody. Oops. My bad. I feel oh-so-sorry about it.
“Oh! That’s right, we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Charlotte Kensington.” I don’t offer her my hand, it’s too risky. There’s a chance she’ll leave me hanging and in these types of situations, it’s never good to start out looking like the fool. Instead, I stand up straight, doing my best to exude confidence and poise. Looking like you belong is half the battle. “I’m Fallon and Mina’s new roommate, from New York.”
“New York.” That has Barbie’s eyes rounding with interest.
Yes, henceforth Emily shall be known as Barbie, as in the doll, because that’s who she resembles. Fake, tall, and skinny with massive boobs that don’t look comfortable on her frame. Just like the doll. And, now that I’m standing closer, I can easily tell she’s a bottle blonde.
Make sure you touch up those roots, ladies. The truth is always in the roots.
“I love New York! Daddy’s taken me on so many shopping trips down there! My closet is absolutely covered, wall to wall, with designer clothes I bought along Fifth Avenue. Is that where you got those amazing shoes? It’s good to see some people know how to shop outside of the Target clearance bin.”
She shoots Mina a pointed look.
I’m so fucking over this chick. And I really wish Mina would say something to stand up for herself.
“Did you buy those clothes at Target, Mina?” Mina, unfortunately, is still a statue. “Did you?” I prompt more forcefully. “Or did you borrow them from your super fashionable former New York socialite roommate?”
“Um, yeah, I guess,” she stutters. “I mean, they’re from Charlotte’s closet. I don’t know where she got them.”
“Red bottom heels from the Christian Louboutin store in Paris and the dress was custom-made by a designer in Antwerp,” I supply.
“Antwerp?” Barbie pinches her face. “Where’s that?” Her tone conveys she thinks such a city doesn’t exist.
I let out a loud, fake gasp. “You mean a budding fashionista such as yourself has never heard of Antwerp? The Antwerp Six?” Furiously shaking my head, I cross myself like I’m a good Catholic who’s just heard a blasphemy. “The power of Christ compels you!”
“I’m convinced your assistant’s a little crazy,” Fallon murmurs from behind me.
“I’ve been saying that since day one,” Brody replies. I want to stick my tongue out at him, but I don’t dare look in their direction. Brody’s looking too damn delicious at the moment and I need to focus on the Barbie situation, not daydreaming about licking every indent of his ripped chest.
Because he has to be ripped, right? Completely shredded. Anything short of a six-pack would be a crime against humanity. No, an eight-pack. It has to be an eight-pack. With that sexy V-cut pointing the way down to his groin. And as huge as his body is...
Ahem.
Reigning in my thoughts, I arch a brow at Fallon before sending Barbie what I hope isn’t too smug of a look. A brilliant escape opportunity arises when I realize what song is playing.
“Antwerp isn’t a real place,” Emily accuses, her voice sounding a bit shrill to my ears.
“Hmm...It is actually, but geography isn’t everyone’s strong suit. I’m sure one day you and your daddy will make your way across the pond. Until then, ladies...” I grab Fallon and Mina by their hands. “I believe this is our song.” And then, because I can’t help myself, I turn to Brody and give him a slight nod. “Satan.”
Surprisingly, he smiles back. “Queen.”
And then I lead the way to the dance floor where the three amigas shake off all the haters, just like the lyrics say to do.
Except, I should have known fighting off Mina’s bully wouldn’t be that easy.
Chapter Eleven
We have migrated to the backyard pool. Mina’s finally relaxed enough to enjoy herself. Sitting on a lawn chair, she turns to me, a nearly empty cup of punch in her hand. “How did you know we wouldn’t get kicked out?”
“I didn’t.” I smile at her shocked expression. “But from past experience, I knew it was highly unlikely. Most people will do anything to avoid a scene.”
“Past experience,” Fallon muses from my side. “Just how many parties have you crashed?”
“Easily over a hundred. The Kensingtons aren’t exactly
considered to be respectable people in New York. If my brother and I had waited around for party invitations growing up, we would have stayed in every night.”
“People never complained or talked behind your back?” Mina asks.
“Sure, but they were going to do that anyway. At least this way I still got to have a little fun. Anyone up for another drink?”
Only Mina and I want another drink, so I decline their offers to come with. No point in losing our lawn chairs when my two hands are all I need to carry the drinks.
The backyard patio is packed, forcing me to walk along the edge of the pool to get to the bar. I make it maybe halfway when I feel a push at my side. I lose my balance and the next thing I know, I’m underwater, my lungs burning as they take in some water. My instincts kick in and I propel myself back up to the surface.
Swimming to the edge of the pool, I’m helped out by Kyle and (get ready to gasp) Tanner. Just behind them is Barbie. And the little bitch is grinning from ear to ear.
“Aw, did you have a little slip there?” Sucking her teeth, her expression remains gleeful. “Pools can be so difficult to maneuver around. Especially when you’re naturally clumsy.”
I didn’t slip, I was pushed. This was retaliation. For standing up for Mina. Or maybe Fallon was right and hearing Mr. Connors use my nickname triggered her jealousy.
Here’s what I’ve learned about bullies from my time living among the piranhas known as New York’s elite: when a bully attacks you, you have exactly five seconds to react. Five seconds to do something to alter people’s perception of what happened. If you act embarrassed or run away, the bully is the perceived winner.
But if you manage to come up with a counterattack or something that will minimize the effects of the bully’s actions, people will walk away thinking you got one over on them. It really is that easy.
Don’t believe me? Just watch.
Stripping off my dress, I ignore the gasps and catcalls from the crowd. Yeah, I look damn good in my black lace demi bra and matching panties. Barbie’s face grows horrified as she realizes the crowd is already turning in my favor.
“Thanks for the nudge. It’s so hot, lounging around in the sun. Had I known this was a pool party, I would have brought a suit. Oh, well. I guess this will have to do.” Then, remembering the Connors brothers are still at my side, I hold out a hand to the one most likely to join me in my plot. “What do you say, Kyle?”
The sentence is barely out of my mouth when he starts yanking off his shirt. Flashing me a boyish grin, he replies, “Of course.”
“Last one in has to buy a round of drinks at the resort bar later.” Whipping my head around, I’m shocked to see Tanner is down to his boxers. He also has one hell of a bruise on his left eye. A mix of yellow and green, it looks like he had a run-in with someone’s fist.
“What happened to your eye?” Instead of answering, he salutes me before cannonballing into the pool.
Leaving me no choice but to jump in after him. Wading towards him, I point to his left eye. “Well? What happened?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I want to apologize for what I said after the staff meeting. It was way out of line and I’m sorry. I know you have no way of knowing this, but I’m not usually like that.” Scrubbing his face, he looks sheepish. “Not that this excuses anything, but I’ve been under a lot of pressure since Brody moved back. And I was pissed at myself for falling for Jacques’ shit. But I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. I’m really sorry.”
Let me think about this for a second...Okay. He’s forgiven.
What? You didn’t really think I could have a nemesis, did you? Holding grudges is tricky. You have to keep track of who you’re mad at today and why. Very few people are worth all the effort it takes. Besides, the apology seemed sincere and he helped me out with Barbie.
In fact, glancing around the pool, about half the male partygoers and a handful of bold females are now in the pool with us. Typical. Men will follow the hot girl wearing lingerie. Even if it’s into a cold pool.
So instead of giving Tanner grief, I splash him in the face. “We’re starting over,” I declare.
Relieved, he gives me a much lighter splash back. “Deal. So Brody calling you Queen...Is that like an official nickname or just the two of you doing that love-hate bickering thing you do?”
I roll my eyes, but I’m happy on the inside. The Connors brothers and I are good, Barbie’s eye is twitching in a way that brings to mind meth addicts...Things are going great.
So of course, shit has to hit the fan.
I arrive at the office Monday bright and early with a chocolate chip cookie for Brody. I set his breakfast down on his desk and am in the middle of booting up my computer when my cell phone starts going crazy.
As in, lots of beeping and pinging from incoming messages, kind of crazy.
Turning the ringer off so Brody won’t yell at me whenever he gets in, I scan them and grimace.
When I stripped off my dress at the party, all I had thought about was one upping Barbie. I hadn’t considered how many partygoers had cell phones on them. I hadn’t considered they would take pictures (and videos) of the crazy new girl in town who had dared to go toe-to-toe with their queen bee. I hadn’t considered that anyone of those partygoers would sell those images to the tabloids for a quick buck.
I hadn’t considered it, but I should have. And now I have practically every member of my inner circle sending me I’m disappointed in you texts.
Dad: I see cutting you off has taught you nothing. You’ll never get your allowance back at this rate.
Mom: Oh, honey. In your lacy underwear??? Couldn’t you have at least waited until after the party?
Jackson: Who are those two guys? You told me you were working at a resort, not a brothel.
Dad (again): I don’t know what we’re going to do with you, Charlotte Burgundy Kensington.
Liz: Well, at least you kept your undies on this time.
Ugh. Thanks, Liz. As if I needed to be reminded of the Delacourt Incident.
Peter Delacourt had been a classmate of ours at Yale. One summer, he hosted a luau at his family’s home in the Hamptons. Every girl in our sorority had been invited. Except me. Inviting myself to his party and then skinny dipping in his pool was supposed to be a big fuck you to him. Instead it turned into an FML moment.
Remember how I said I spent a good chunk of my twenties imitating an alcoholic fish? Let’s just say drunk fish can’t swim. I might have drowned if Liz’s twin brother Eddie Rockwell hadn’t jumped in after me.
And then there were the pictures...They still haunt me to this day.
So, you see, I really should have seen this coming.
There was one positive text among my father’s rants (yes, plural. He sent me ten long lectures via text. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, I would rather he just box my ears and get it over with).
Ellie: Don’t listen to all the negativity. Looking good, hot stuff ;) Haters gonna hate.
Ah, good ol’ cousin Ellie. Somehow being raised by a man who has ice flowing through his veins hadn’t affected her ability to show compassion towards family. Unfortunately, I didn’t see her text until much later. After the atomic bomb had already gone off on my day.
Who detonated this bomb, you ask? Satan, of course.
He storms into the office, not even bothering to glance my way. Not even a minute after his arrival, he’s barking at me from his office. “Miss Kensington!”
Ah, we’re back to last names. This is to be a bad day, I see.
I meander my way through his door, internally rolling my eyes at the scowl on his face. It’s way too early for him to be breaking out into dramatics. “Yes, Mr. Connors?”
His eyes lock onto mine and I suck in a breath. Damn, but the man is fine. Even turned down, his lips look sinful. And, oh boy, can he rock a suit. Looking crisp, clean, and in control. Every muscle in my body strains from the effort it’s ta
king to stop myself from keeling over.
“My coffee.” His angry voice cracks across the room like a whip. “It’s cold.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re...” I glance at my watch. “Twenty minutes late for work.”
He’s not amused. In fact, if I’m interpreting his look correctly, I think he’s considering snapping my neck. “Get me a new cup.”
I want to argue with him, ask him what the hell had crawled up his ass this morning, but I have a phone appointment with Robbie and I don’t have time to dawdle. I got the man a new cup of coffee from the café and made it back to my desk without a second to spare, the phone ringing just as I sat back in my chair.
I thought Satan’s cranky mood would dissipate with his caffeine and chocolate fix. I really should know better by now.
“A little louder, Miss Kensington. I don’t think Kyle quite caught all of that from downstairs,” he barks while I’m on the phone with Robbie.
“That copier isn’t going to fix itself,” he snaps after I spent more than five minutes trying to clear a paper jam.
“Where is my coffee?” he demands during my lunch break, after I lost track of time.
The day finally reaches that afternoon lull. You know, the space between lunch and closing time that just seems to drag. Satan strolls out of his office and slams a stack of papers on my desk. “I want you to look through these résumés and sort out which ones you believe aren’t complete frauds. Schedule phone interviews with them for some time next week.”
From his use of the word fraud, I gather these are candidates vying to replace Jacques. Though why the hell he doesn’t just permanently hire Mina, who he knows for sure is a good chef and is already on payroll, is beyond me. But this doesn’t seem like the time to go to bat for my roommate.
“How am I supposed to know if they’re lying? I mean, with Jacques it was easy because his French is so bad, but speaking French isn’t a requirement for being a chef, right?” He says nothing, but his face takes on fierce scowl. Great, I pissed him off. “What do I know about hiring a chef, anyway?”