How was I going to do this? How was I going to pull this night off while feeling like I was about to lose my mind? I stared into my
puffy eyes and took a deep breath. Outside, the Billings Girls were chatting happily, my frantic moment clearly forgotten. "You have
to do this, Reed. For them. For Billings," I told myself, even as my heartbeat pounded in my ears. "You can get fitted for your strait-
jacket later."
* * *
Noelle had been right all along. Loft Blanc was the perfect location for this event. It was simple. Minimal. Clean. Glamorous. And
with the champagne flowing, the chatter filling the room, and the Twin Cities' model brigade circulating in skimpy clothes with their
placid expressions, it was all like one decadent work of moving art. I saw all this. Processed it. But couldn't appreciate it. All I could
think about was the perfume. The next time I saw Ivy I was going to make her confess. And then I was going to kick her ass. Enough
was enough. "Reed! Congratulations! This event is a smash hit!" Susan Llewelyn said, stopping by to double air-kiss me. Susan was
one of the few Billings alumnae I actually knew. "Thanks," I said, surprised to see her. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course!" she
said, taking a sip of her champagne and tossing her short blond hair back. "Where were you the day the board met to go over our
case?" I asked. "We could have used a friend on the other side."
Susan blinked and her ever-present smile briefly faltered. I got the distinct feeling she thought I had just overstepped my bounds.
And maybe I had. But didn't I deserve to know? "The board felt that my presence would be a conflict of interest," she said smoothly.
"And to be honest, I thought it might be a good idea for me to lie low, considering my part in the whole Gwendolyn mess." "I see." In
other words, she hadn't wanted to be forced to take responsibility for telling us how to get off campus--for leading us to the Gwen-
dolyn secret passageway in the first place. Suddenly, the level of respect I'd always felt for Suzel dropped a notch. "Oh! I see an old
friend! Gotta go!" she said gaily. As she hastily scurried off, I wondered if anyone was ever what they seemed. So far, most of the
people I had met at Easton had turned out to have at least two faces. Some many more.
"Champagne?" Marc asked, suddenly arriving at my side.
He pressed the cool flute against my bare shoulder and I smiled. For a November night, it was rather warm in here, and I was happy
I had chosen something skimpy from Noelle's collection. It was a black, halter- style swing dress with subtle pleats that fell a few
inches above the knee. "Thanks," I said, smiling as I took the champagne flute from him. "Have I told you how amazing you look
tonight?" Marc asked. He looked pretty amazing himself in his rented tux with its long, cocoa brown tie. "You don't have to say that,"
I told him, downing half the champagne in one gulp. "I know I don't. I wanted to," Marc said with a genuine smile. "Reed. There you
are! We've been looking all over for you," Hunter Braden said, appearing before me. He reached out and squeezed my elbow as if he
hadn't been the rudest date in history and I hadn't walked out on him. Hunter had gone with a tux and an open-collared shirt, and blond
scruff lined his cheeks and chin. Very rogue millionaire. "My mother was dying to meet you. Harper Braden, this is Reed Brennan.
She organized this event."