Chapter 25
THE CIRCLE OF TRUST HAD DEMOLISHED TWELVE pizzas by six-thirty, and by seven-thirty, Lana had texted that she and Joel and their classmates were getting ready to head over.
That gave us fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.
“Sounds like Fairfield throws a pretty sad class dinner,” Griff said as he pulled on a black Dri-Fit quarter zip.
I’d told everyone to wear black tonight.
Just like at Constellation Catering events, we were staff, not guests.
We needed to be as invisible as possible.
But in hindsight, it would’ve been fun to wear togas to fully embrace the night’s theme.
“Or they’re sick of behaving at their class dinner,” Jason suggested.
That was not what I wanted to hear.
“It’s been over three hours,” I said. “Their dinner started at four, right after their campus-wide parade.” I nodded to the left. “Go talk to Henry in the hot shop. He has a chart for the security detail.”
Jason snorted. “He would.”
“And air horns, if things get out of control.”
Griff’s and Jason’s eyes lit up. “Awesome!”
Once Griff and Jason walked off toward Henry’s headquarters, I went over to the pool.
Kaitlyn and Mateo—Griff’s lifeguarding friends—were chilling in their chairs, whistles around their necks and wearing fluorescent suits.
“Ready?” I asked, and after they nodded, I crossed the patio.
Kenzie and Mia had been right about the pool house; the pergola did look amazing with the red Solo cups and string lights.
Ellie was doing one last check on the food, holding one contemplative finger to her lips.
The first couple of kegs sat nearby in plastic tubs of ice.
“You can tap them,” I told James, since it turned out he was the only one who knew how. We stuck to six-packs around here.
Isa was dumping a bowl of cubed fruit into the trash can punch Ellie and I’d mixed earlier.
It had everything from lemonade and vodka to fruit punch and orange juice to Sprite and rainbow sherbet.
“The fruit just gives it a bit more class,” Isa told me.
She’d borrowed my sequined nightscape dress and paired it with strappy sandals.
Her glossy brown hair fell in an elegant sheet down her back.
James gave me a look. “I’m truly in awe of you, Audrey,” he said. “But have you ever considered the existence of the police department?”
“No one is going to hear us,” I replied. My house was set back on the water, and our nearest neighbors were away for their son’s college graduation. Plus, I’d told Lana to spread the word that all rideshares needed to drop passengers at the end of the driveway.
James held up crossed fingers, then stretched out his hand to Isa. Their “stage” was the satellite patio in the rose garden. Of course, they’d sounded absolutely amazing during their sound check earlier.
Lana and Joel’s silver Porsche rental rolled in minutes later. They looked bright-eyed from dinner but showed no signs of being buzzed. For seemingly no reason at all, Joel handed me a fifty-dollar bill after I told them to have fun.
I watched the trail of alumni, more or less dressed in Fairfield red and white, walk up the driveway, evidence of the Uber and Lyft drop-offs.
But there were more designated drivers than I had expected.
Dressed in black and their highvis construction vests, the three improvisers had made a last-minute valet sign and were navigating the line easily.
I giggled when Rory and Alec quickly played rock-paper-scissors to see who had to park an intimidating Yukon XL, but I left before one of them got behind the wheel.
If there was a problem, they’d text me. Henry might be tonight’s troubleshooter, and Ellie our natural manager, but I was captaining this ship.
At first, the party seemed like a success.
Everyone was smiling in our beautiful backyard, with the football security team on the periphery.
Griff was all charm while dissuading a loved-up couple from disappearing into the pool house.
People were having animated conversations near the kegs, Fairfeild cups in one hand and a hefty plate of food in the other.
The co-secretaries must’ve sent out a text about the pool, because some guests were swimming.
Joel and Lana were acting like the king and queen of the land, sipping their drinks and accepting compliments.
In the Luxembourg Gardens were professionals. James and Isa were mostly doing covers from the late 2010s and early 2020s, from the guests’ college days, with a throwback song every now and again. Currently, they were crushing Harry Styles’s “Adore You.”
I hoped someone in the party noticed that James had written an original verse for Isa, to shift the song into a duet. Does anyone here work in the music industry? I wondered.
Give those two a record deal!
“Hey,” someone said, and I turned to see Henry dressed in all black: T-shirt, trousers, and his beloved Thursday Boots. He never wore baseball caps, but tonight he sported one that said scratch paper. Merch from his dad’s latest comedy tour.
“Hi.” I tried to ignore the ache in my chest. Dressed up or dressed down, Henry was devastating. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to touch base,” he said, then gave me a look. I could tell he was treading lightly, trying to be nice. “Is it just me, or does this feel manageable so far?”
“Nope, definitely not just you.” I unlocked my phone and tapped on the camera; I wanted to take a video to make sure I’d remember this. “I think everyone did a really great job.”
Henry was silent for a moment. “You did a great job,” he eventually said—slowly and softly enough to send shivers up my spine. “This is pure insanity, but it’s incredible.”
A lump rose in my throat. “I never could’ve done it without you,” I said, even though I was so upset—so frustrated with him.
Why was long distance so daunting? Why did he think he would drag me down or hold me back?
I resisted the urge to knock off his hat and kiss some sense into him, reassure him that we would figure it out.
We’re a team, I thought. The best team, if you haven’t noticed.
But I swallowed the words and forced a small smile. “If anyone could pull this off, it’s us.”
“I agree.” Henry shifted from one foot to the other. “Griff might be the idea guy, but execution isn’t his strong suit.”
“He sticks with his strengths,” I said. If Griff Keeler could stop sloshed alumni from hooking up in my pool house, awesome.
Henry laughed, the sound so mesmerizing that I realized I couldn’t let him go so easily. “Can we talk?” I asked, taking a deep breath. “Later tonight?”
Something flashed in his eyes, something that made him nod. “Later tonight,” he agreed, then pointed toward the pergola, where Jason was approaching the food. “Jason’s strayed from his sector to steal some cake.”
I rolled my eyes. “If that’s our biggest problem tonight…”
“I’ll take it,” Henry finished for me, but as he walked away, I felt my stomach twist into knots. Had we jinxed ourselves?
I slipped into the house to find some salt to toss over my shoulder.
WHEN THE WHEELS CAME OFF THE BUS, IT FELT like a movie montage.
It was a gorgeous night, starry and warm, and not many alumni were hanging out in the house.
So when I spotted Lana and a friend sipping glasses of red wine on the living room couch, I did a double take. Did she bring that wine? I wondered.
My pulse skyrocketed when I noticed the bottle on the coffee table. It was a barbera my dad had brought back from Italy, the same trip where my mom bought the pitcher (RIP). And if that was my dad’s wine, that meant…
Someone had been in the wine cellar.
“Oh my god, I hope it’s okay!” Lana said when I asked. “Greer”—she gestured to the woman next to her—“doesn’t like beer, and the punch is too sweet for her, so her husband grabbed us this bottle.”
Dammit, I thought. Lana or Joel or another guest must’ve spilled the beans about the wine cellar. Even though I’d told them it was off-limits!
But really, they’d disregarded the tarp Griff and Jason hung?
Unless they never hung it, I worried. I’d had a hundred other things to do and decided to trust them instead of checking.
“I understand,” I said as I internally winced. It was too late to confiscate the bottle. “If you would just please be careful, this couch is new—”
“Holy shit! Lana?” someone exclaimed. “Greer?”
And then, faster than the speed of light, a woman rushed over to the couch to reunite with her long-lost Intro to Psych classmates.
But she was clearly drunk, so instead of slowing to a stop, she banged into the couch and bumped Greer’s shoulder.
Greer spilled her red wine all over the white—pristinely white—couch cushion. “Oh no!” she gasped. “It’s all over me!”
My face flamed. Lana looked at me, but before I could blow a gasket—How are your jeans more important than my couch?—Ellie swept onto the scene. “Let me show you to the powder room, ladies,” she said calmly, trying to usher them away. “I have towels, seltzer, and plenty of Tide to Go sticks…”
Of course you do, I thought, relieved. Ellie always had everything on hand.
“Carly, come with us!” Lana called to her plastered friend, probably to save her from my wrath. “I heard you have a toddler now?”
I flashed their backs double middle fingers before they disappeared into the front hall, then sprang into action, grabbing the half-full wine bottle and hiding it under the sink so I could retrieve the Shout stain remover and spray the defiled cushion.
“Mia!” I waved her over when she passed through the room, a garbage bag over her shoulder.
Our goal was as little cleanup as possible later.