Page 10 of Party Favors
Some of that happy, tipsy, fuzzy feeling vanished. “I’m a manager of sales for my family’s company.”
“What do you sell?” Benji asked.
“Bulk glassware. Like for fancy weddings or Hollywood award shows.”
“Is it a big company? Are you a millionaire?” Benji asked.
“Benji,” William said, his voice stern and scolding
Amanda waved William off. “It’s okay. It is big, yes, but not as big as it used to be. And no.I’mnot a millionaire.” Everyone else in her family was.
Her family dynamics and the business were hard to explain. She’d come from money but had paid her own way since graduating from college—at her own insistence. She’d been handed a job at the company on a silver platter but didn’t enjoy it. She did what was expected of her, including dating assholes her mother chose and attending philanthropic events.
Correction: she had done what was expected of her until this New Year’s Eve trip when she’d thrown all that good daughter bullshit out the window. She might as well enjoy her time off the block.
“What did it used to be?” Benji asked. “Your family business?”
“A disco ball manufacturer. The largest in the US.”
“Shut up! That is so cool.”
“My coworkers call me the disco ball heiress behind my back. I hate it.”
A stunned silence followed her words. Amanda could not believe she’d said that. She glanced down at her third Melon Ball Drop Martini.Damn it.
Wren, who knew all about Amanda’s hatred of that joke, squeezed her knee under the table, and it almost made that accidental slip worth it.
“Why do you hate it? You should own that. It’s a fabulous fucking nickname,” Benji said earnestly. He was leaning over the table, his shirt nearly touching his mashed potatoes. He was a few drinks deep as well.
Amanda laughed. “You think?”
“Yes! Get that shit tattooed on your body. William made me listen to a crime podcast where the murder weapon was a disco ball. They’re dangerous and sparkly. You should own it.”
William cleared his throat. “That was a lava lamp, babe.”
“Oh. Shit. You’re right.” Benji slumped back in his chair.
“How did you two meet online?” William asked, changing the subject.
Wren moved her thumb slowly over Amanda’s leg and said, “I tweeted about wanting a vintage lingerie pattern, and Amanda responded.”
“I think your exact words were ‘My kingdom for a ’50s baby doll teddypattern,’” Amanda said.
“Yes. And you sent me a picture of a pattern you owned and offered to send it for free, which was very stupid of you. They’re worth good money.”
Amanda bit her lip on a smile. “So you paid me for it, and I mailed it to you. And now you need to give me your kingdom. That’s why I’m here. Time to pay up.”
Wren was leaning toward her slightly, her pale skin flushed and her short dark hair artfully messy. Amanda had never seen anyone prettier.
“Deal. I’ll give it to you later.” Wren blew her a kiss.
Amanda’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. This girls’ getaway was just what she needed before going back to her shallow, superficial life.
William laughed suddenly like he was surprised, and they all turned toward him.
“Sorry,” he said. “Putting some puzzle pieces together in my brain. Ignore me.”
The look he sent Wren had all kinds of subtext, but Amanda didn’t know him well enough to read any of it.
