Page 9 of Party Favors
“I already bought my own drink, and I have a ticket.”
The man studied her, which never boded well. “You’re very lovely, but I bet you would be prettier without all that makeup. You can’t beat natural beauty.”
“Ah. You’re out of luck then.” She pointed at herself. “Nothing natural about me. Fake hair. Full makeup. Fake tits. Fake tan. I like the way I look. You’re terrible at negging. Zero out of ten.”
A thunderstorm started brewing on his face, and something violent and ugly twisted his mouth. She had no idea what had come over her. She was never that assertive. Or mean.
It was freeing.
“Hi,my love.” An arm slid around Amanda’s waist. Wren’s arm. Wren lightly nuzzled her ear, a move that probably seemed very intimate, and whispered, “I caught the end of that. You okay?”
Amanda nodded, relieved giddiness zinging through her. She’d seen movies where a dude rode in and pretended to be the heroine’s boyfriend to scare off a dickhead. The fact that Wren was playing that part almost made her giggle with excitement. And Wren made a hot knight in shining armor with her dark, plum lipstick, gunmetal gray eyeshadow, a leather jacket, holey jeans, and combat boots.
“Hey,honey. I was just chatting with Brayden here,” Amanda said, intentionally getting his name wrong.
He sneered. “Oh, I see. You’re a—”
“Here’s your drink,” the bartender said loudly. She slid the Melon Ball Drop Martini, which was in fact very green, across the polished bar. Then, “You struck out, Hayden. Move along.”
“Shut up, Daisy. Don’t make me talk to your manager again,” he said, venom in his voice. The bartender—Daisy, evidently—rolled her eyes.
William and Benji arrived at that moment, and the glare William gave Hayden could have stripped paint.
“Talk to whose manager?” William said. “Ah, Hayden Worth. You’re … existing here. I see you’ve met my friends.” He gestured to Amanda and Wren.
Hayden’s face drained of color. “Yes. Nice to see you, Mr. O’Dare … I’ve, uh, got an important dinner meeting, so I can’t stay to chat. I’m sure you understand.” He stood and strode out of the bar, turning in the opposite direction of both restaurants on the premises.
Amanda laughed. “Oh my God, that was great.”
“What a little worm,” William said.
Wren put her head on Amanda’s shoulder. “He was so scared of you, Willie.”
“God, don’t call me that.”
“Habit,” Wren said.
William laughed. “He knows I could make a play for his event contracts with the resort if I wanted to.”
“Do you want to?” Benji asked.
“Maybe now.”
“You all came to my rescue. Thank you,” Amanda said.
Daisy, the bartender, placed menus in front of everyone and said, “You had it handled.” She smiled at Amanda.
Wren dropped her arm and lifted her head off Amanda’s shoulder. Amanda had liked the proprietary way Wren had touched her. She liked a lot about Wren, and it made this in-person friendship thing very complicated.
Amanda was still riding high at dinner. Wren’s next old year’s resolution was to have dessert first. Amanda had never done that. It wasn’tproper, but she was doing it tonight. The blood-orange champagne crème brûlée was an amazing appetizer.
She was having trouble remembering why she’d been so worried about coming to this girls’ getaway.
Awesome food. Awesome company. Awesome bedmate, or, uh, roommate?
“Amanda, what do you do again? Wren told me, but I forgot,” Benji said.
Oh yeah. That was what she’d been worried about. She was boring, had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and hadn’t done anything in her life of her own volition. Stupid disco balls.
