He looked over the bar, surprised. “While we’re workin’?”
She stared daggers at him. “What did I fuckin’ say? Yeah, while we’re workin’!”
He looked a little scared. “Okay, baby,” he said soothingly.
“Baby,” Misti muttered, slapping a buttery piece of corn on the cob on my plate so that some of the butter splattered on my wrist. “Yeah, fuckin’ right.” I murmured my thanks for the food and hustled my way back to the table where Jeff and I had set up camp. He was already a couple beers in by the time I sat down.
“You should’ve seen Misti’s face when Teddy walked in,” I said, handing him his plate. “She thinks he’s like a god or something.”
“I can’t wait to see how he reacts when he sees her,” Jeff said through a mouthful of corn. He chuckled a little. “Or even better, how Delilah will act when she sees her.”
“Jeez, catty much?” I said. He shook his head and swallowed his food.
“Not catty,” he said. “Observant. Interested. I’m fascinated by the strategy of it all. It’s like golf. You hit the ball, hoping it goes one place, and sometimes it does. Other times, it doesn’t. Regardless, you’ve got to play it where it lies. Teddy came to this party, and Misti is here. He wasn’t expecting that. So now what’s he going to do? How’s he going to play it?”
“I’ve heard enough sports analogies for one lifetime. My dad’s a basketball coach, remember?” I dug into my grilled lobster and wondered, not for the first time, if Jeff actually looked at people as if they were players in some kind of giant game. It seemed kind of cold, but I remembered how Skags and I used to analyze the Beasts’ antics back at school for our own amusement—their stupid fights, their little intra-group rivalries, their dumb drama over idiotic boys. Maybe it was kind of like that. And that was harmless, right?
But there was a big difference—Skags and I weren’t friends with the Beasts. Well, not until her recent bonding with Jenny Carpenter, anyway. And Jeff was supposed to be one of Teddy’s best friends. So how could he look at Teddy’s life with such amused detachment?
Maybe boys were just different about this stuff.
And anyway, Jeff didn’t know anything about Teddy pushing Misti. I was sure he would’ve been less cavalier about the situation if he knew about that. Maybe I would tell him—eventually. Now clearly wasn’t the moment.
“Oh, shit,” he said in a low voice. “Look at that.”
I looked, and saw one of the most uncomfortable scenes I’ve ever witnessed: Jacinta Trimalchio, wearing a sleeveless ivory dress, plus white heels and a tiny white top hat set askew on her head, gingerly talking to a miserable-looking Delilah, who was wearing a tight white dress that seemed illegally short, and a very animated Teddy, who had his arm slung protectively around Delilah’s shoulders. Brock and Reilly stood slightly behind him like sentries, watching the conversation unfold with expressionless faces. As I watched, Teddy threw an arm around Jacinta and drew both girls close to him, lowering his head and murmuring something. Whatever he said, it didn’t go over well—Jacinta pulled back and looked startled, while Delilah furiously threw off his arm and snapped at him. This only served to make him laugh, and he cast a glance at Brock and Reilly, both of whom began laughing, too. Delilah stalked off toward the house, grabbing Jacinta’s hand and pulling her along.
“I should go talk to Jacinta,” I said, standing up so fast I almost upset my glass of wine. “Something crazy is going on.”
“You’re a good friend,” Jeff said. I studied him to see if he was being sarcastic, but he wasn’t.
“I mean it,” he said, taking another gulp of beer. “I know they’re glued at the hip, but I think you’re a better friend to Jacinta than Delilah is. Delilah’s playing some kind of weird game. You—you just care about people. It’s nice.” He sounded almost sentimental. I guess it was the beer.
“I’ll see you later,” I said, grabbing my white beaded clutch and hurrying away. I passed Teddy & Co. on the way to the house.
“Hey, Naomi,” Teddy said, and I could tell he must’ve come to the party already drunk. “You gonna save my girlfriend from that psycho?”
“She’s not a psycho,” I said, and kept walking.
“You’re a good girl, Naomi!” Teddy bellowed after me. “All girls should be as good as you!” I ignored him.
I hurried inside as a steady stream of revelers in white came through the front door and around the side of the house. I recognized a lot of faces from Jacinta’s first party—those brothers whose names I couldn’t remember; the Fitzwilliams girls; Ainsley Devereaux; and dozens of others. It looked as if Jacinta’s party might pass the hundred-guest mark she’d predicted earlier. Whether she’d intended it or not, this was going to be another mega-bash.
I couldn’t find the girls downstairs, so I went upstairs and peeked in each of the rooms in backward-rainbow order: indigo, blue, green, yellow, and orange. All had their doors wide open, and all were empty of people. Then I got to the red room, and saw that the door, while not closed, was just slightly ajar. I peered inside cautiously, and there were Jacinta and Delilah, sitting on the bed, Delilah’s head on Jacinta’s shoulder.
“He was just being a jerk,” Jacinta said. “The more you take him seriously, the worse it gets.”
“I hate him,” Delilah said fiercely, balling her hands up into fists. “I fucking hate him. He’s disgusting.”
“You need to tell him, then,” Jacinta said. “Tell him it’s over.”
“I will,” Delilah vowed. “I can’t wait to be free of him. He’s the worst. I don’t care what my mother says—he’s a piece of shit.”
“He doesn’t understand you,” Jacinta said. “He thinks you’re just a doll for him to show off. He doesn’t know how creative you are, or how smart, or how talented.”
“You’re so right,” Delilah said. She pulled back and looked at Jacinta for a moment. A glance passed between them that I couldn’t interpret. But then Delilah did something that needed no interpretation—she leaned forward and kissed Jacinta full on the mouth, just as if she’d done it a hundred times before. And Jacinta wrapped her long, skinny arms around Delilah and kissed her back.
It’s not like I’d never seen girls kiss before. My best friend was a huge lesbian who showed it off like a badge of honor; when she had girlfriends, she’d purposely kiss them when they were walking past a church or sitting in a restaurant full of old people, just to see the reaction. I couldn’t imagine Jacinta or Delilah doing something like that. In fact, I had the uncomfortable feeling that I’d witnessed something that really wasn’t any of my business. As I backed away from the door, the floor creaked loudly. Jacinta anxiously called, “Who’s there?”
I had to think fast. I pretended that I’d just walked up to the door and hadn’t been standing there for a few minutes. I poked my head in the room.
“Hey, ladies,” I said, smiling as if nothing were amiss. “I was just looking for you two.”
They visibly relaxed.
“Oh, Naomi,” Delilah said. “It’s you.” She slowly exhaled and then giggled.
“Shit,” she said. “I need to pack a bowl, like, right now.”
Wordlessly, Jacinta went over to a drawer and withdrew a glass pipe and a little plastic bag. She handed them to Delilah like she was a mother giving her child an aspirin and a cup of water.
While Delilah smoked and the air filled with that kind of skunky smell, Jacinta and I stood at the windows and looked out at the party. The bouncy house was in full swing, and a few girls had pulled off their white dresses to reveal white bikinis. They were splashing around in the river pool, giggling and trying to avoid dousing any of the dozens of glowing white floating candles. A few guys, not surprisingly inspired by the girls, had stripped down to their tighty whities and were “swimming,” i.e., trying to take the girls’ tops off. More and more people streamed into the backyard, which was getting quite crowded.