Badly Behaved

Amy cuts a glare toward her sister, her eyes flitting past mine but coming right back when she catches me staring. She folds the gown over her arm and a woman comes up beside her, quickly taking it and smoothing it out.

“Not trying anything on today, James?”

I shake my head.

“Skipping the Fall Ball, are we? And what, might I ask will you be doing instead?” There’s a hint of accusation in her squeaky little tone, one that has me sitting up slightly.

“Oh, my god, you’re not going?!” Cali whips around with a frown.

Jules and a few others are staring now too.

Amy smirks, her chin lifting a little higher as she grabs for another dress.

“I never said I wasn’t going.”

Amy’s movements falter.

“I said I wasn’t trying anything on.”

“If you wait any longer, your dress will never be ready,” Jules stresses, hiccupping and reaching for her wine glass as if it will help.

“I already have mine settled.” As I figured it would, that gets Amy’s attention. “It’s on its way.”

It’s a lie, but I know exactly why Amy suddenly wanted to join us in Los Angeles today. She wants to see for herself what I lean toward as far as style, so she can one-up it.

It’s been a constant over the last six weeks, ever since the first day of school, when she tried to bid on my bluff and failed when I called Ransom to our table.

My mom had sent me a new prototype handbag from one of her designer friends and she insisted I use it for a set number of days to test the ‘audience,’ so Amy went out and tracked down a limited-edition Louis.

Days after I showed up with my new car, she traded hers in for a foreign one, a darker version of red than mine, one she likely had to pay a shitload to have expedited.

I didn’t care, considered it a coincidence in my head, which is ridiculous in itself, but yesterday, I had a hair appointment right after school. I added some darker streaks into my hair, which she saw at the club last night for a whole five seconds, and what do you know... someone showed up with a new do today.

She must have her people on speed dial.

Not that we all don’t.

I should pull a Britney and go bald, see what she does then...

A smile tugs at my lips at the thought, but I rein it in when Cali speaks.

“Good, because I was about to say.” She laughs. “I’m tired of you being MIA all the time.” She poses in the mirror, smiling as she would for a camera. “And since you already have yours, don’t let us buy the same color! I don’t want to walk in looking like some twister sister shit.”

I wiggle my brows instead of responding, pulling my phone from my purse when it vibrates. It’s a text from Beretta.

Beretta: we’re outside.

My brows pull and I slowly sit up.

Outside?

Beretta: dress-up ended an hour ago.

A laugh spurts from me, and I type away.

Me: dress-up never ends around here. I thought you knew?

Beretta: educate me.

Beretta: when you get in the car.

My lips quirk.

Me: I didn’t even tell you where I was going...

His name flashes across my screen then, and I push to my feet.

I walk over to the window, scanning over the street ten stories below, as I bring it to my ear.

“It’s cute, in an annoying way, how you have no idea the power social media gives assholes like us.” He pauses a second, and then says, “There, look at what I sent you.”

I pull it from my ear, my eyes cutting up to the girls briefly.

The photo is a screenshot of Jules’ Instagram Story.

It’s a picture of her and Cali standing back-to-back, blowing kisses at the camera, the words at the bottom reading “Lovely in Los Angeles.”

I pull it back to my ear, snagging a melon ball from the hors d’oeuvre table, and gliding my teeth along the silver pick. “It’s a big city.”

“Yup, and we might not have found you if your girl hadn’t hashtagged your location along with ‘girl gang.’ Think she knows what a gang is?”

I chuckle. “Only what can be learned from Riverdale.”

His laughter is loud, and I smile.

“Come on. We’re bored.” His grin easily heard. “Entertain us, Trouble.”

“And there it is.” I tip my head, trying to see farther down the road, but don’t spot them.

“Not the way you’re thinking. Your boy ain’t here. It’s just me and mine.”

My head jerks to the side, my mouth opening, but nothing comes out and his airy chuckle fills my ear.

“My car is at Cali’s.”

“We’ll grab it. Come on, get down here before we get a ticket for parking in a red zone. It won’t exactly be believable if I tell a cop we’re both color blind and one of us is a mute.”