Bliss shook her head, aghast. She wondered what her stepmother would say if she knew everything in her precious Penthouse des R��ves was in Jersey somewhere. She gaped at Mimi for a second, threw her hands up in resignation, and headed to her room to change.
"You're welcome!" Mimi called.
The latest smashcut remix (Destiny's Child vs. Nirvana) was blasting from the Llewellyns' surround-sound stereo system. Mimi smiled to herself in the dark. She wet her lips, which shone brightly with blood. Her Italian boyfriend was somewhere, passed out as usual.
"Lychee martini?" a waitress asked, offering her a cocktail.
The perfect chaser. Mimi smiled and emptied its contents. Then she took another and another, while the confused server just stared at her.
"Thirsty?" a voice behind her asked.
Mimi turned around.
Dylan Ward was watching her, his dark hair masking his eyes. The same feeling of dread came over her. "What's it to you?" she sneered.
Dylan shrugged.
Mimi walked over to him. She was wearing a cropped red leather Dsquared jacket and a vented chiffon Balenciaga skirt that hugged her curves. It annoyed her that Dylan didn't even notice how good her legs looked in that skirt. There was something impudent about that. As if he didn't even care what she looked like. Blasphemy! She checked his neck. So far, no sign that Bliss had tried to seal their bond. Mimi smiled to herself. An idea formed in her head. Now, this could be fun.
If she performed the Caerimonia Osculor on Dylan before Bliss did, he would be bound to her forever. He would forget all about Bliss. That would serve Bliss right for continuing to see him after Mimi had forbade her to do so. Not that she was even interested in Dylan or anything, she was just bored.
She lowered her lashes flirtatiously. "Help me with something?" she asked, leading him away from the party.
In the shadows, she looked like a helpless beautiful girl, and without even thinking about it, Dylan found himself automatically following her farther and farther, deeper into the dark.
"But she invited me! I know the owner of this apartment!" Schuyler argued. She'd never even heard of a guest list for a house party. But then again, she'd never been invited to one. The elevator had opened to the lowest floor of the apartment, and Schuyler found her way barred by a cadre of stony-faced PR girls.
"Did you RSVP?" one of them demanded, snapping her gum and looking balefully at Schuyler's mismatched outfit. She was wearing a flowing tunic with layers of plastic beads, denim shorts over black leggings, and scuffed cowboy boots.
"I only heard about it today," Schuyler groaned.
"I'm sorry, you're not on the list," the clipboard girl replied, savoring the rejection.
Schuyler was about to step back into the elevator and go home, when Bliss appeared from behind a hidden doorway.
"Bliss!" Schuyler cried. "They won't let me in."
Bliss marched over. She had showered and changed into a slim-fitting Missoni dress with zigzagging stripes and high-heeled gladiator sandals. She took Schuyler by the arm and pulled her through the PR barricade, over the protests of the clipboard hellions. She led Schuyler into the main room, which was crowded with Duchesne kids angling for drinks at the bar, sprawling on couches, or dirty-dancing by the windows.
"Thanks," Schuyler said.
"Sorry about that. It's Mimi. I told her my parents were away and I was thinking of hosting a little get-together, and she puts together like, the MTV Movie Awards After Party."
Schuyler laughed. She looked around - there were go-go boys and go-go girls writhing in cages hung from the ceiling, and she recognized several famous faces in the mix. "Isn't that - ?" Schuyler asked, noticing a peppy teen actress funneling beers in front of a cheering crowd.
"Yeah," Bliss sighed. "C'mon, let me show you the rest of the place. It doesn't usually look like this."
"I'd love to - but I have to do something first."
Bliss raised her eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I have to find Jack Force."
She had to find Jack. She had to tell him what had happened to her. They had barely spoken to each other since the night of the Informals, but she perceived he was the only one who would understand. She was fighting to hold on to the memory - already it was slipping - already she couldn't remember the exact details of where, why, or how it had happened - except for the eyes, eyes glimmering red in the dark, with silver pupils. Red eyes and sharp teeth.
But the Llewellyns' penthouse was like a house that magically expanded - everywhere you turned, there were rooms and rooms off innumerable hallways, with hidden treasures. Schuyler found an indoor lap pool, a fully equipped gym, and what looked to be a staffed day spa on the premises, complete with massage tables and essential oils, as well as a game room filled with old-fashioned carnival arcade toys, with mechanical fortune tellers and penny games, all of them in perfect working condition. She pushed a penny into a slot and removed her fortune.
YOU ARE A TRAVELER AT HEART.