(Okay, so maybe we weren’t bordering on the obscenity line so much as dancing over its grave.)
“London’s turn!” yelled Darcy, one of the old ladies about London’s age. Her man was part of the Silver Bastards, the same club that Puck was part of. I’d only met him a couple times, but based on that it was safe to say that the Silver Bastards were every bit as scary as the Reapers. Dancer and Kit grabbed London by the arms, dragging her over as Jess jumped off her guy to make room for Loni.
“Smile, London!” Kit shouted, taking a picture as they dumped her into his lap. Loni bounced right back up again, grabbing a throw pillow and launching it at Kit. Jessica leapt to her defense, pitching another pillow toward London, and then it was on.
Battle royale.
(It’s worth mentioning at this point that we’d had a lot of alcohol. Jell-O shots. Fireball shots. Some kind of pomegranate martini punch shit that Em mixed up and was serving in big bowl. It tasted like candy, but I’d stopped drinking after my second glass, when my cheeks started to go numb. Unfortunately that’d still been enough to make me seriously buzzed.)
A pillow smacked me in the head, knocking me down to the floor. I landed on top of Banana Hammock Man, putting a hand on his waxed, muscular chest to push myself up, confused as hell.
“Hey,” he said, giving me a sexy smile. “You wanna go hide together under the table?”
“Smile!” Jessica shouted out of nowhere. What the? I looked up to find her snapping pictures of me on top of him.
“Oh, you little bitch!” I shouted, scrambling off. He gave a startled shout of pain. Shit. I’d just used his banana hammock like a gold lamé springboard, poor man. “I’m so sorry.”
He moaned pitifully, rolling over to curl up on his side. Meanwhile, Jessica was skipping across the floor, waving her phone triumphantly.
“Jessica, you delete those fucking pictures right now!” I screamed.
She tore across the room and through a set of French doors that opened onto a deck. Then she was over the side, sprinting across the meadow that backed against the house.
“I’m going to kill you!” I shouted, ignoring the laughter from those watching us. She turned her head to taunt me, flipping the bird as she ran.
“Come and get—shit!” the words cut off as she suddenly disappeared. Not disappeared, as in tripping and falling. I mean disappeared. One minute she was there and the next she was gone.
“Jess!” I shouted again, anger turning to fear. She hadn’t been that far ahead of me. I kept my eyes open, stopping just short of where she’d been, approaching slowly. It seemed unlikely that she’d been teleported away by aliens, but you never know . . .
“Jessica?” I called, hesitant.
“Down here.”
Looking around, all I saw was grassy meadow. “I don’t see anything.”
“There’s a hole in the ground,” she said. “You’re right over me—I can see you. Look down.”
I looked down, and sure enough, there was a hole in the ground, maybe a foot wide . . . foot and a half, tops. I dropped to my hands and knees, peering down. It was dark, really dark. I could hardly see her, but she seemed to be down there a ways. Shit.
“What the hell is that? It looks like a cave.”
“Sure looks like it.”
“Do you see a way out?” I asked, looking back at the house anxiously. Our watchers had lost interest in us. I dug in my pocket for my phone, hoping I had service.
“Step back,” Jessica told me. Frowning, I followed her instructions, mouth dropping as her head and shoulders popped out above the ground.
“How did you do that?”
“I just stood up, silly,” she replied. “I would’ve sooner but I needed to text this.”
She gave me a wicked grin as she held up her cell phone, showing off the picture of me on top of Mr. Banana Hammock.
“If you tell me you sent that to Painter, I’m going to kick your head off like a dandelion,” I hissed, glaring at my best friend. Former best friend.
“Settle your panties,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Do I look like I’d send it to Painter? No, I sent it to Hunter, Em’s old man. I may have sent it to Reese, too. Hard to remember. I know I sent him the one of London.”
A very, very dark suspicion reared its head.
“Jessica . . .”
“Yes?” she said, fluttering her lashes at me innocently.
“Are you and Kit using the party to collect blackmail material on all the women in the club?” I asked, my voice carefully level. Jessica frowned, and I swear she looked almost hurt.
“Of course not,” she said, pushing herself up and out of the hole. “Blackmail means you want money or something, right? We’re just doing this for fun, Mel. I’m not trying to take your money. I’d never blackmail you or any of the other girls.”
She shook her head at me sadly, conveying profound disappointment in my lack of trust.
“I’m going to find Dancer. She should know about this cave thing—I got out just fine, but some little kid could get stuck down there for real.”
• • •
The pillow fight had ended by the time we got back, apparently transitioning into a water fight. Either that or Dancer was using a hose in an attempt to control the herd of drunken women currently dancing in her backyard.
“Jessica!” Kit yelled as we came back. “You’re here—good news! We’re already getting responses on our pictures!”