Bad Ideas (First & Forever 4)

He glanced into the bag I’d just put beside him and asked, “Are you going to eat those chips?”

The ones I just bought and brought home? No, of course not. I fought back a sigh and said, “Help yourself.”

He plucked the chips from the bag, leaned over, and took a look at what else was in there. Then he said, “Wow, that’s a lot of rubbers, Casey. It looks like you already opened one of the boxes and used some. Did you get lucky on the way home from Walgreen’s?”

And just like that, every single person in the room was looking at me curiously.

I mumbled, “No, I just stuck a couple in my wallet.”

Yolanda raised a brow and studied me closely. She knew for a fact I wasn’t dating anyone, so the huge stash of condoms had to bring up some questions. Unlike Lark though, she was discreet enough to save that discussion for when we didn’t have an audience.

Instead of continuing to stand there like a deer in headlights, I pulled the beer from the shopping bag and stuck it in the fridge. Then I said, “I guess I should go primp for the party, too, and figure out what I’m going to wear.”

Lark gasped and leapt off the counter. “I don’t know what to wear, either! I’ll be back soon. Don’t leave without me!” He dashed from the kitchen with the bag of chips clutched to his chest.

As I picked up the shopping bag, JoJo turned to me and said, “I’d suggest not wearing jeans, Casey.” She’d just had a set of fake eyelashes applied and was blinking repeatedly, possibly to get used to them.

“Okay, but I was going to pair them with a nice, new sweater.”

“Not to the Renard,” Eliot said, as he leaned back and assessed JoJo’s makeup. “I’ve only been there once, but it was really fancy.”

I sighed and leaned against the counter. “Why did the hospital have to pick someplace so upscale? This is supposed to be a party. How can we relax and have fun if it’s all totally formal?”

“Some people actually like getting dressed up,” Yolanda said. “I’m not necessarily one of them, but hey, for one night a year I can make the effort. So can you.”

“I’m going to go look in my closet. I think I have a pair of khakis.”

Eliot muttered, “That’s even worse than jeans.” Then he pushed his black hair off his forehead and began digging through the huge cosmetics case on the table beside him.

“So then, what—” That sentence was cut off by my shriek of alarm at the sight of something scurrying along the floorboards, and I blurted, “I think we have rats!”

Kel leapt to his feet and scooped up something from beneath the kitchen table. Then he stood up with the creature in his arms and said, “Sorry to frighten you. It’s just Winston. I was letting him stretch his legs.”

I took a look at the thing he was holding and asked, “What exactly is that?”

“He’s a chinchilla,” Kel explained, as he sat down again and scratched the thing behind its comedically large ears.

My frown deepened. “Is he okay?”

Kel nodded. “He’s fine. He’s just been a little stressed out lately, and that makes him lose his hair. That’s why he looks patchy.” While I wondered what that creature could possibly have to be stressed about, Kel raised it to his lips and kissed the top of its partly bald head. The rodent—or whatever the hell a chinchilla was—blinked its bulging black eyes in response.

I tore my eyes away from the little, tiny train wreck of a pet and asked, “Do you want to come with us to the party, Eliot and Kel? We’re supposed to only bring one guest each, but I’m sure there are ways around it.”

Kel smiled at me and politely declined, and in true introvert fashion, Eliot wrinkled his nose and muttered, “Fuck no. A huge party sounds like a total nightmare.” Then he remembered his manners and tacked on, “I mean, um, no thank you.”

“Okay. I’m going to go get ready. See you in a bit.” I headed for the stairs, pausing to scoop up the birthday gifts I’d left on the bench by the front door. When I reached the second floor, I could hear the shower running in the shared bathroom.

I dumped everything I was carrying onto the bed, went straight to my closet, and began rummaging through it. I found the khakis and tried them on, but I really didn’t like the look of them. I’d bought them for a job I’d had years ago which required us to wear them along with a uniform shirt, so they were automatically unappealing to me.

After discarding the khakis and doing some more rummaging through my disorganized closet, I decided to go with my nicest pair of jeans, which were fairly new and a dark indigo. Everyone seemed way too concerned about fitting in at this fancy hotel, but I was just going to be myself. I changed into the jeans and a pair of brown, sort of dressy shoes, and had just finished buttoning up one of my favorite Hawaiian shirts when someone knocked on my bedroom door.