Secret Indiscretions (Carson Cove Scandals 2)

“Ah, there it is.” I found my crimson-sin lipstick sitting on my mother’s vanity—it was a stark contrast to the boring shades she usually wore.

Anna didn’t look up at me when I walked back into my bedroom and started applying my lipstick. I had no idea why she even bothered to hang out in my room anymore—it used to our tradition after school every day, but it had been a long time since we shared any common interests. Our age difference had a lot to do with it. She was barely sixteen, and I was twenty-three. I hated that we had drifted apart, but our lives were in different places. I was focused on graduating, finding a real job, and getting my own place. She was trying to survive high school, and if there was anything else going on, she didn’t talk to me about it. The divorce seemed to impact her more than it did me. I was old enough to realize that the relationship was broken before our dad left, but she was still young and naive.

“Alright, I don’t know when I’ll be back—don’t wait up.” I tried some humor to see if I could get a smile out of my little sister.

“I never do.” She looked up and rolled her eyes—but there was no smile.

Oh well, I tried…

The art show was being held at Wellington’s Museum downtown, which was about thirty minutes away from my house. I waited for my phone to connect to the car so I would have some music for my drive and skipped over a couple of Ariana Grande songs so that I could listen to my latest jam, Old Town Road by Lil Nas X. I started singing along as I drove through the streets of the Mandalay Subdivision. I didn’t live in the richest part of Carson Cove by any means, but my neighborhood was picture-perfect suburbia with well-manicured lawns and flower beds everywhere.

I always thought I would leave Carson Cove behind when it was time for me to go to college, but money got tight after my parents divorced. Living at home and attending Carson Cove University was the best option for everyone—I certainly didn’t want to drown myself in student loans and work two jobs on top of going to school.

Getting a chance to go to the art show is a definite perk of staying behind—I wouldn’t have gotten an opportunity like this if I moved to New York like I planned.

The drive was rather peaceful. There weren’t that many cars on the road since it was the weekend, and it was late afternoon, so most of the people my age hadn’t begun their weekend debauchery. I didn’t have any bad intentions on my agenda for the weekend, and I rarely mixed it up with the people my age who thought they ran the town on Friday and Saturday night. I didn’t have Carson Cove privilege as some people referred to it—that basically meant you were filthy rich and not afraid to flaunt it.

There would be plenty of people at the auction with Carson Cove privilege, and my only goal for the evening was blending in so that I didn’t look like an unprivileged member of the middle class. I wasn’t ashamed of being unprivileged, but it would be nice to have one evening where I didn’t get slapped in the face by it.

Tonight, I’m not simple little Taylor Abernathy from Mandalay—I’m just a girl in a black dress who enjoys art—standing next to people who could buy every piece with a wave of their hand.

* * *

One hour later

The art show was set up in sections where you could browse based on the price range, and there was an area with an open bar and some snacks I would have never purchased on my own, for those who were just there to socialize. Like most gatherings in Carson Cove, it was more important for people to know they were getting something expensive than to just enjoy it, so there was a card explaining why everything you could have was special. The liquor they were serving was a step above top shelf, the wine was older than anyone in the room, and the snacks were ridiculously expensive.

I learned that it was possible to spend five-hundred dollars for a pound of cheese and while it wasn’t bad, it didn’t taste that good. Even the crackers were from a premium bakery that boasted about using water you could only get a certain time of day from a special spring that was supposedly prehistoric with rich deposits of Tanzanite at the bottom. The crackers didn’t taste any different than the generic ones my mom bought at the grocery store, but the people around me acted like they were sampling manna from heaven.

I guess I’ll get a glass of wine—it’s not like I’ll ever get to drink anything this expensive again.

The only good thing about the exotic food and drink selection was that nobody seemed to notice an unprivileged in their ranks. I was completely ignored for the most part. I started walking through the gallery and immediately wished it was socially acceptable to take pictures because some of the paintings that were being auctioned were exquisite.

I might not have had the means to hang one of them in my home, but I loved art. I got that from my parents—they were both artists when they were younger, and several of our family vacations were conveniently scheduled around art shows at the destination they chose. That part of our family dynamic never rubbed off on my sister, and she normally complained

when our vacation took a detour towards a museum, but I couldn’t have been happier.

My parents would love to be here right now—they might even be civil to each other while they were looking at all of these pieces of art.

I spent some time looking through the gallery while I sipped my wine, and by the time I got to the end of the first section, I decided that I wanted a refill. I hated to admit that it was the best wine I had ever tasted, although my palate was inexperienced. There were more people near the open bar than there were when I got my first glass of wine, so I had to wait my turn to get served. I tried to pretend that I was a statue that only got to take a step when the person in front of me did. I was nothing more than an image against the backdrop—a nameless face in the crowd. I hoped to stay that way for the rest of the night.

The glamorous, beautiful, and drop-dead gorgeous Carson Cove privileged were all around me, and I was extremely uncomfortable. As soon as my glass was refilled, I scooted over to the side to look for an opening, so I could disappear into the gallery. I must have blended in so well that the privileged thought I was literally part of the scenery because two women walked over and stood directly in front of me to sip their wine while they gossiped about the other guests. I wasn’t sure if they cared that someone was behind them or were just so caught up in their own conversation that they didn’t notice—I couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

“Did you hear that Jon and Mary Alcott are getting a divorce?” The woman on the left, a blonde in a Versace dress, leaned close to the brunette beside her. “They’re here together, but this may be the last event in Carson Cove that they attend as a couple.”

“Then I guess they won’t be buying anything.” The brunette hid her laugh behind her wine glass. “Unless they plan to take a pair of scissors to it when they split everything.”

“She’ll probably get custody of the kids and take him to the cleaners.” The blonde shrugged. “He won’t have much of anything after she’s done with him.

“I’ll mark him off my list of future ex-husbands.” The brunette grinned and sipped her wine.

“Speaking of—do you have any leads?” The blonde gave her friend a side-eyed glance. “I never thought I’d see the day Alexis Devereaux was celebrating the anniversary of her last divorce without an engagement ring on her finger.”

Oh my god! That’s Alexis Devereaux? I need to get the hell away from here—asap! She is not someone I want to be associated with by accident.

“I’ve got my eye on someone.” Alexis winked at the blonde. “I might even have our first date lined up before the end of the show—which means the countdown to taking him for half of everything he owns can officially begin.”

“Cheers to that.” The blonde tapped her wine glass against the one that Alexis was holding.