Page 75 of Puck Me Secretly

Calder was 30 minutes late.He strolled into the house like the spoiled aristocrat he was with his $4000 tuxedo and coiffed hair. He was an heir baby, and he seemed to think that was his full-time job. He would have been gorgeous if he didn’t have that life-is-so-boring sneer on his face.

“Hey, Calder,” I stood watching as he pulled something out of his pocket.

“Your parents gone?”

“Yes.”

“Want to smoke a joint?”

“Excuse me?”

“Marijuana.”

My eyes widened. “Not really.”

“Do you have an ashtray?”

“Do you mind smoking outside?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever.”

I stood, shivering, outside the front step, watching as he smoked his joint.

“How’s life?” he winced as he sucked on the thin burning rolled paper.

“Good.”

“Heard your old man was making you work.”

Oh,freakinghell. Tonight was going to be long.

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, you getting some on the side?”

“Excuse me?” My voice sounded like ice.

“Hey, don’t get mad. Just repeating what I’m reading on social media.”

My heart stuttered. “What have you been reading?”

“Hockey gurl’s tweets about you always go viral. The last tweet was retweeted over 45,000 times.”

I felt my stomach twist into a ball. “What was the tweet?”

He shrugged. “Something about how you like to fuck hockey players.”

Oh, sweet baby Jesus.

Calder squinted at me. “Ready to go?”

Actually, I want to go hide under my bed.

I took a fortifying breath. “Ready.”

The Autumn Ashford Galawas one of Vancouver's most elite and expensive charity events. Tickets sold for $1000 a seat and every year, the tickets sold out within hours.

Arriving unfashionably late, Calder and I walked into the foyer of the huge banquet hall. The front was empty as most of the guests had already moved to the dining area.

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