“That’s great,” Everett tells her. “I’ll be sure to bring Lemon by soon. We’re always looking for new places to enjoy.” He nods to the redhead to my left. “And how about you, Ariella?” There’s an edge to his voice as he asks the question and I wonder why.
“I’m great, Everett, thank you for asking.” Ariella laughs a little as if she understood his apprehension with the question. She’s taller than the other two, her hair is a dark shade of auburn, and I suddenly have a craving to dye my hair that exact same shade. I’ve been having all sorts of off cravings as of late, so this doesn’t surprise me all that much. “I’m an attorney now.” She nods my way.
“Oh?” I lean forward. “What kind?”
“The unhappy kind,” she retorts. “I’ve expanded into career consultation. I’m currently helping Jazzy with her rebranding.”
“Rebranding?” Noah looks her way.
“That’s right.” Jasmine gives a furtive nod. “I’m not doing the vapid socialite thing anymore. I figure that’s what we have Stassi for.” Both Ariella and Jen giggle at the barb.
A man enters our midst, tall, with the requisite dark suit. He has wavy dirty blond hair and his red face is peppered with a five o’clock shadow. He has a broad nose, a tall forehead, and a lantern jaw, and there’s not an ounce of warmth in his eyes at all.
“Speaking of my handsome husband.” Ariella laughs as she pulls him in. “Lottie, meet the honorable Judge Owen Kellerman.”
The man nods my way. “Nice to meet you, Lottie.” He offers Noah an affable smile. “Fox, nice to see you again.” He turns to Everett. “Well, well, Baxter.” He belts out a hearty laugh. “If it isn’t the crooked judge.”
“It takes one to know one.” Everett doesn’t hesitate to let the zinger fly and the mood in our circle grows tense just like that.
Jasmine and Jen take the opportunity to step away from our group. And Ariella pulls her husband close before waving to someone in the crowd and asking us to excuse them before she whisks her rude husband off.
I choke on an entire stream of expletives begging to rush from my throat.
“How dare that man talk to you that way.” I shake my fist in their direction just as Carlotta runs over.
“Where’d she go?” Carlotta has her phone out and poised as if she were about to take a picture. “Where’s Jazzy A? I haven’t missed a single episode of Money on the Med. Who knew when I signed up for cake detail I’d be lucky enough to meet the entire cast of that show centered around seaside debauchery? Did you scare her off, Lot?”
“She wanted to get her hands on Everett,” I snip her way. “Of course, I scared her off.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Lot. Let her borrow Sexy for the night. You’ve got this beefcake to foxtrot around the room with.” She smacks Noah on the stomach when she says it. “I’ve been biting my tongue long enough, but I’m just gonna come out and say it. You’re greedy! The Lemons raised you to be a silver-spooned spoiled brat. I bet they never once made you share your toys. And I bet you had two Ken dolls for your Barbie, too!”
The tiny little pooch continues to yip and yap at our feet before barking right up at Carlotta.
“You tell her,” I say. “See that, Carlotta? Even that silky-haired cutie thinks you’re being ridiculous. Two Ken dolls,” I huff. “So what if I did? I liked my Barbie to have a surplus of attention. It was all in fun. It’s not like that’s made me some deranged individual with lasting psychological effects.”
I wrap my arms around my belly before dropping them because it’s sort of an antithesis to my argument at the moment. Come to think of it, my Barbie had a few children with vague paternities herself.
Carlotta reaches down to scoop up the pooch into her arms, but the tiny beast goes right through them.
“Uh-oh.” She rights herself with a start.
“Carlotta”—Everett rumbles out her name without moving a muscle—“what were you trying to pick up just now?”
Noah moans, “Let me guess, a lion? A tiger? A bear?”
“Nope.” Carlotta digs her fists into her hips as she looks down at it. “ It’s a cute little white puppy with enough long white hair to cover all of our heads.”
The little yippy puppy gives a few more sharp barks before disappearing in a poof of tiny pink stars.
“There’s a ghost among us,” I say it lower than a whisper. “And you know what that means? It means murder.”
Everett nods. “What are the odds of Owen once having a small white dog?”
“Everett.” I wrinkle my nose at him.
“Sorry. I can’t help it.” He glances out at the crowd of polished people. “One thing is for sure—tensions are high tonight. This could mean trouble for just about anyone.”
Noah pulls out his phone. “I’m calling for backup. And I’m not leaving your side, Lottie. I don’t want you to worry about a single thing.”
Carlotta sighs. “Try not to find the body until I get a few numbers from some of these good-looking men. These people have deep pockets, Lot. If you play your cards right, you might just offload me by the end of the night.”
Considering the fact Carlotta has lived with me for the last couple of years, this would be a boon for me.
I take a step out toward the crowd and watch the unsuspecting masses.
That little supernatural cutie didn’t come back from the great beyond because it wanted a bite of my Bundt cake. It came back because there’s a killer on the loose.
And soon—we’ll have a murder on our hands.
Lottie
The Lux Plaza Hotel is teeming with the bold, the beautiful, and those constructed mostly of plastic parts.
The class reunion is in full swing. And just when I’m going to demand that Noah or Everett eats fried pickles with me, a disturbing force of nature unleashes in our direction—two of them to be exact.
“Big Boss!” Cormack Featherby wastes no time in climbing Noah like a pole.
Cormack Featherby is the exact reason why Noah and Everett held onto a rather bitter feud all these years, and although she might have started that bitter-fueled party, Noah and Everett have propagated it all on their own for the last few years. Some might say I’m partly responsible for the dissonance. They might be right.
Cormack is your run-of-the-mill blonde socialite who is as vapid as they come. She joined Club Essex ages ago, and then just when she and Everett were making it official, Noah swooped in and stole that featherhead for himself. That was back in high school, and let’s just say Judge Baxter’s ego was bruised back in the day. And even though he got over Cormack pretty quickly, he never got over the fact he couldn’t trust Noah.
“Essex”—Cressida, another vapid blonde with a face sculpted by a team of world-renown surgeons, steps up and runs her finger over his chest as if it belonged there—“why must you bring this engorged river rat wherever you go?” She slits a glance my way. “You do have a way of infuriating me by flaunting the fact you’re virile.”