Cross My Heart, Hope To Die (The Lying Game #5)

Cross My Heart, Hope To Die (The Lying Game #5) Page 25

“I’m great,” she said. “Getting greater by the second.”

“Okay, then,” Madeline said, though she clearly wasn’t convinced. “To greatness!” She lifted her own cup in a mock toast.

Laurel peeked her head around the bathroom door. She looked stunning in the gold bandage dress she’d bought at the Saks sample sale. “Are you ladies almost finished? Some of us still need to do our makeup.”

Emma stood up. “I’ll go downstairs and check on Char.”

On the way through the bedroom, she stopped to check herself out in the full-length mirror. She’d decided on a pale pink halter dress that gave her skin a rosy glow. It was maybe on the sexy side for Emma and the sweet side for Sutton, but it felt perfect for the tenuous in-between that Emma lived in now. She pulled on a pair of strappy gold Miu Miu heels and headed for the stairs.

Of everything in Sutton’s luxe life, Charlotte’s house was probably the most over-the-top thing Emma had seen. A sprawling adobe villa, it had an Olympic-sized pool, a six-car garage, and a bell tower that had been transplanted stone by stone from a two-hundred-year-old mission south of Yuma. Stunning views of the city were visible from every window. The marble stairs curved elegantly down into an entryway the size of a ballroom, where the girls had spent the afternoon hanging crisscrossing strings of globe lights from the high ceiling. On the top landing Emma ran into a guy wearing a leather vest over his bare chest who was setting up turntables. He didn’t even look up as she stepped over the cords onto the stairs.

She found Charlotte in the kitchen, where they’d covered a table with Mrs. Chamberlain’s best linen and sprinkled glittery confetti across the surface for an accent. Platters of food covered every inch—a sun-dried tomato and pesto torta, prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, garlic-stuffed olives, and fresh-baked pita wedges. She picked up a mini quiche and popped it in her mouth.

Charlotte glanced up when Emma came in. “You look mahvelous, dahling,” she said, air-kissing Emma’s cheek.

“So do you!” Emma exclaimed. Charlotte’s emerald-green dress brought out her eyes. She’d had her hair done by a stylist that afternoon, in a classic updo with a few ringlets artfully arranged around her face. Her crystal dangle earrings caught the light and made her positively glow.

Emma held up her cup. “I seem to be empty.”

Charlotte gestured toward the bar, which was almost as big as Sutton’s bedroom, complete with four different wine refrigerators across the back wall. Dozens of glass bottles were lined up on the counter, along with mixers, limes, and even a blender. Emma fixed two cosmos, one for herself and one for Charlotte. She did it properly in a shaker, the way a cool older foster sister had once taught her. Through the French doors to the back patio, Emma could see the big-bellied keg by the light of the tiki torches.

Tucked into an alcove next to the walk-in pantry, the security system control panel flashed green. Disarmed. Not that it mattered if it was on or not, since Becky had gotten past it before. Emma’s heart picked up speed at the memory of Sutton’s killer strangling her in this very kitchen. Her hands shook. Couldn’t she have one night off from worrying for her life? She deserved it.

“Bottoms up!” she yelled to Charlotte, then finished her drink in a single gulp.

A few hours later, Emma wasn’t worried about anything at all. She and Brian Lloyd, cocaptain of the basketball team, had just beat Charlotte and Mark Bell in a heated game of beer pong out on the patio. When Brian challenged her to a victory tequila shot, she hadn’t even flinched, just tossed back her head and downed it quickly, without salt or lime. “That’s the Sutton Mercer I know and love!” Charlotte trilled, throwing an arm around Emma’s shoulders affectionately. “Where have you been hiding?”

Emma shrugged and floated past Tim Sullivan, whose father owned a string of sporting goods stores across Arizona and who was doing a keg stand as the entire football team cheered him on. Inside, a Jay-Z song was playing on Charlotte’s sound system. Girls in tiny dresses were dancing in groups, or with their arms entwined around boys in button-downs and jeans. Emma smiled and waved at everyone, reveling in just how much fun it was to be Sutton.

She passed the Twitter Twins holding court in the kitchen, taking turns telling a juicy story to a group of rapt junior girls. Madeline was draped across Antonio Ramirez’s lap on an overstuffed chair, whispering into his ear. Caroline Ellerby, an overeager freshman, came in the front door holding a tray of premade Jell-O shots. “Want one, Sutton?” she asked with a tentative smile. Emma grabbed a tiny cup of red Jell-O and slurped it carelessly.

Her phone kept vibrating in her snakeskin clutch, but she ignored it. It was probably just another text from Ethan saying he was on his way. She didn’t want to see Ethan right now. She didn’t want to talk to him. Or did she? Did she want to talk to him right away so she could tell him just what she thought of his little secret? She shoved the thought away and went back to the bar. Another drink might help her make up her mind.

Nisha stood in front of the array of bottles, measuring a precise amount of gin into her glass. She looked up just as Emma stumbled into her, grabbing her to stop her fall. “Whoa, girl. You okay?”

“I’m Sutton Mercer,” Emma said, striking a pose. “I am fabulous.” She reached for the vodka, but Nisha took the bottle before she could pour herself another cup.

“Slow down there, champ.” Nisha laughed and poured Emma a glass of water instead. “Where’s Ethan? Isn’t he supposed to be here?”

Emma sipped the water slowly. The room spun pleasantly, pretty and bright, like a children’s carnival ride. “Who knows? He’s probably watching a meteor shower or something.”

Nisha put her hand on Emma’s arm. “Hey, is everything okay with you two?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but before Emma could stop herself, words started spilling out. “Remember how you helped me find that … information about my mom?” Emma whispered. “Well, Ethan had a file in there, too. A huge one.”

“Whoa,” Nisha said, her eyes widening. “Have you talked to him about it?”

Seeing the alarm on Nisha’s face made Emma’s vision spin even faster, and she suddenly realized what she had done. Yes, Ethan had betrayed her, but that was between him and her. “Forget it. I’m sure it’s nothing,” she mumbled, pushing her way back through the crowd.

“Hang on, Sutton,” Nisha called, but Emma kept going until she made it onto the patio. A couple of the boys were playing water volleyball in the pool, wearing nothing but their mesh shorts. Laurel and another girl were sitting by the hot tub, trailing their feet in the water. They beckoned her over, but Emma sank into a chaise longue instead. She leaned back and closed her eyes. When her phone vibrated again, she didn’t even bother checking it.

At ten, Poor Tony, the bare-chested DJ Emma had run into earlier, started to play from the upstairs landing. The entryway flooded with screaming partygoers. Emma wandered into the crowd, the heavy bass vibrating through her body like a second heartbeat. She spotted Madeline and started to head in that direction, then realized that Mads was with a boy and probably wouldn’t want to be bothered. She squinted—the boy definitely wasn’t Antonio. Mads moved fast.

Emma took a step backward, stumbling right into a tall guy with perfectly gelled blond hair. He gave her a withering look as she caught her balance. Garrett.

“Sorry,” she yelled over the music. He just rolled his eyes and leaned over to Celeste, who was standing next to him, wearing an ikat-print baby-doll dress and velvet stockings. She shook her hair, which was curled into thick ringlets, and laughed. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and danced close to him, staring pointedly at Emma.

The world started to tilt dangerously. Suddenly, Emma wanted nothing more than to escape, to go somewhere away from all the noise and chaos. The music was starting to feel less like a heartbeat and more like a hammer pounding at her skull. She tripped toward the front door, ducking as she passed Gabby and Lili to avoid being pulled into their hyperactive dance circle. She slipped out onto the porch and sighed in relief at the feel of the cool night air on her skin.

Even with the massive oak door shut, she could still hear the rumble of the music and the screams of the crowd. But compared to the rest of the party, the porch, tiled in elegant stone and covered with enormous potted plants, was an oasis of calm. Moths threw themselves again and again at the lights in antique iron sconces, battering them with their tiny bodies.

Emma closed her eyes and rested her head against one of the pillars. Garrett’s expression had shattered her good mood, and she suddenly felt sober.

Then she heard it. A soft rustle, the sound of someone moving nearby. She froze, rooted to the spot. Someone was on the porch with her.

“Mom?” she whispered, peering into the shadows where the noise had come from.

“Go back inside!” I hissed at her. “Hurry!”

But it was too late. A tall form moved out from the darkness, laughing softly. Both Emma and I screamed, my voice inaudible to everyone but me, hers swallowed by the noise from inside.

No one would hear us.

27

A VOICE IN THE DARK

Emma scurried backward into a terra-cotta planter. Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears. Should she run out toward the street, or back inside? The alcohol slowed her thoughts, keeping her in dangerous indecision. She took another step backward. This was it. She was about to die.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Sutton. It’s just me,” said a male voice from the shadows.

Thayer stepped forward into the light. He looked gorgeous in a blue Hugo Boss button-down and khaki shorts.

Emma exhaled in relief.

I watched enviously as he reached out to take Emma’s arm and led her over to the porch swing. They sat down next to each other in friendly silence.

“What were you doing out here?” Emma finally asked. Her heart still hadn’t slowed down to its resting rate.

Thayer smiled sadly, holding up his Coke can. “Turns out being in recovery makes you kind of a buzzkill.”

Emma thought about what it must be like for Thayer, showing up to a party like this. It wasn’t easy resisting that kind of pressure, listening to drunken teenagers wreaking havoc inside, knowing he couldn’t really be one of them.

Thayer pushed them gently back and forth on the swing, his feet on the floor. Overhead Emma could hear the squeaking call of hunting bats. The slow rocking of the swing calmed her nerves. She had to get a grip. What if he had been Becky? Screaming and tripping over furniture wouldn’t exactly do her any good. She needed to always be ready for anything. She shouldn’t have let her guard down, even for one night. She sighed. It just wasn’t fair. She was so tired of being constantly alert. She wanted to be vulnerable, to be normal, just once.

“You feeling okay?” Thayer asked.

“Everyone keeps asking me that tonight,” Emma said. “Don’t I look okay?”

“You look perfect, as always. I asked how you felt.”