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“Isn’t this against etiquette or something?”
“Girl, there are bitches doing lines in the bathroom right now with the attendant holding their hair for them,” Melody laughed.
“If they’re not doing lines, they’re popping pills and washing them down with chardonnay,” Peyton added, looping his arm through mine.
“That thing you sent me,” he began, speaking lowly. “It’s like a ledger. The numbers are different security and pass codes.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Mateo has access to these people’s lives, whenever he wants it or needs it,” Melody filled in.
Now I understood why he had no issues killing people to get the book back. It was essentially the key of all keys.
My sister had majorly fucked up.
“Where do you think she’s being held?”
“That’s something else I wanted to tell you. There’s a hangout, a bar or something called The Basement. I got a tip that Eva…solicits there—or she did. If you can get away somehow, I thought it would be a good place to check for leads.”
I looked at him and shook my head. “I really appreciate all you’ve done, but I don’t think you two should get any more involved than you already are. It’s not safe.”
“This sounds familiar, but you’re not doing this alone. Besides, we’re already involved.”
“You have us to help you figure this shit out, so use us,” Melody said.
I couldn’t refute them, and that was partially my fault. I kept involving them indirectly time and time again. If the situation was reversed, I would be the same way; I wouldn’t let either of them deal with this monster of a clusterfuck on their own.
“You guys are right.” I sighed.
“Why would Eva want the book?” Melody asked, moving us away from the champagne table.
“Dinero and power,” I shrugged.
“Money and power,” Peyton translated, nodding his head in agreement.
“People say money isn’t everything, but it is. Money makes the world go round, especially this one.”
“It may not buy happiness, but I’d rather be miserable on a yacht surrounded by the best bubbly known to man than miserable in an outdated living room with a shitty box TV and a lukewarm beer,” Peyton said.
“Touché,” I acknowledged, lifting my flute to my lips.
We continued to make our way around the room to keep the conversation just between the three of us.
There was a slight commotion due to someone yelling indecipherably that drew the attention of more than a few people in the back corner. I took in the man causing the issue, and my face blazed when I realized it was my uncle.
Whatever he was saying had people diverting their gaze in either embarrassment or to stifle laughter.
“Is that Samuel?” Melody asked, a frown of concern on her pretty face.
“He’s a drunken mess,” I mumbled. Mateo, Elias, and Sergio quickly intercepted him with another man I didn’t know tagging along. They made their way out of the room together, disappearing through a solid door.
I was one half relieved, one half concerned.
“What do you know about the game of Old Money?” I asked to distract myself.
“I’ve heard of it. Everyone around here has. Typically, likes its namesake, the old money families initiate the way the game’s going to go,” Melody explained.
“So it’s…rigged?”
