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I close the door and reach into the bag; there’s a pastry, along with a note.
I’m sorry, Katerina. Come back and be my gaming coach, and I’ll double your hourly rate. Rule four: patience is king. I’ll patiently wait for your response.
~ Fabio
Tempting. On the one hand, that’s damn good money; on the other, Fabio is a tricky bastard.
Glancing at my bandage-covered wrist, I repeat my just say no mantra as I sip my delicious espresso and nibble on the pastry before getting ready.
I grab a small box wrapped in pink paper and lock up my condo behind me. Hopping in my car, I drive over the causeway to the address Lily texted me. Arriving on the north side of Long Beach Island, I find the right house number and pull into the driveway of a picture-perfect beachfront property. It’s not a brand-new mega mansion, but an older, cozier beach cottage; only my dream house.
A man standing next to the entrance gate holds a clipboard, motioning for me to roll down my window, and I do so. “Name,” he barks.
“Katerina Stefanos.”
“Identification.”
“I thought this was a kid’s birthday party,” I comment, fishing my license out of my wallet.
“It is,” he says gruffly.
“Hope you’re not the entertainment,” I mutter under my breath.
The man checks my ID, handing it back to me before pointing to a rolling cart beside him. “Gifts have to stay out here.”
That seems like an arbitrary rule, but I’m not going to argue about it with a guy who has at least a hundred pounds on me. “Okay,” I say, handing him my present.
Clearing the security hurdle, I park and step out of my car, checking out the courtyard. I spot Lily filtering about on the other side of the pool. A pool when you’ve got the ocean out your front door? That’s some crazy rich people shit if you ask me. Lily waves me over, and I join her. “Thanks for coming,” my cousin’s wife tells me with a hug.
“Thanks for the invite. Wouldn’t miss it,” I assure her. “Whose beach house is this? It’s amazing.”
“I’m not sure; Darius rented it for the party. He doesn’t want people to know where we live,” Lily admits.
“Understandable,” I say, given my cousin’s “profession.”
A petite beauty joins us. “Kat, this is my friend Valentina Parisi.” Lily introduces us. Oh no, I hope that doesn’t mean her brother is going to be here; that man scares the living shit out of me. “She planned Iris’ party.”
Valentina greets me with a double cheek kiss. “Kat. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“You too. This party is something else.” There’s a carousel, a bounce house, mountains of food and party favors, and a large rainbow cake with a mermaid doll on top.
“Thanks. I had to plan everything over the phone.” She huffs. “Not ideal, but I made it work. Nicky wanted to be here, but she’s still dealing with her mom’s death,” she explains.
“Of course,” Lily says sympathetically.
“My condolences,” I say.
Valentina nods. “Thanks. Her mom had late-stage dementia. Nicky knew it was coming sooner or later, she just didn’t realize how soon,” she explains.
“I’ll bring Nicky some leftover cake tomorrow when I visit her,” Lily says.
“Perfect. After she’s good and sugared up, I’ll pounce with wedding planning.” Valentina rubs her hands together in glee before pulling out her phone. “Let’s see what else needs to be done.”
“Anything I can do to help?” I offer.
“Yes. The face-painter fell through,” Valentina says with a dramatic sigh.
“Consider me the Picasso of face painting,” I fib. Nothing that a few minutes of watching an online tutorial won’t fix.
