“Wow.” Brittany’s smile doesn’t waver. “Is this about Marcus? Because I thought we were past that.”
The temperature drops about fifteen degrees.
Second mention of the infamous Marcus. The man sounds like he’s trouble.
Tamsin’s face goes blank. “We are.”We most definitely are not.
“Good,” Brittany purrs. “Then you won’t mind when I post about it on Monday.”That’ll get engagement like nothing I’ve ever posted before.
Blaire steps forward. “Brittany, for once in your life, could you just not?”
“Not what?” Brittany blinks at her. “Not tell the truth? Not share information people deserve to know? Or not expose the fact that your fiancé is drowning in gambling debt?”
Blaire’s face goes white.Don’t react. Don’t react.
Oh, this is messy. This is spectacularly messy, and I’m watching it unfold in real time with absolutely no power to stop it.
Sloane laughs—and it sounds completely artificial. “Ladies, ladies. We’re supposed to be having fun, remember? Kappa Krew forever, right? We’re the golden girls, the inner circle. We’re here to celebrate, not rehash old drama.” She loops her arm through Brittany’s. “Come on, Britt. Let’s get you another drink and maybe take a walk. Cool off.”Contain the problem. Not solve it.
Brittany shrugs her off. “I don’t need to cool off. I’m perfectly fine.”And honey, I am just getting started,she thinks with a smile.
“You’re being a witch,” Blaire says flatly.
“Better than being a fraud,” Brittany shoots back.
And judging by the look on Blaire’s face, that landed.
Mackenzie makes a strangled noise beside me.Please stop talking. Please stop talking.
I’m beginning to understand why Huxley used the wordtoxic. This isn’t friendship. This is a carefully orchestrated disaster waiting to happen.
Sloane tries again. “Brittany, please—”Don’t make me do this here.
I give a little gasp at the thought.
Don’t make her dowhat?
“Oh, relax, Sloane.” Brittany waves her off. “I’m just keeping things interesting.Besides, it’s not like anyone here doesn’t know everyone else’s secrets already.” She turns to me with a bright smile. “Except you, Bizzy. You’re blissfully in the dark. Lucky you.”Give it five minutes with these gossip mongers.
I’m not sure luck has anything to do with it.
Fish trots up and sits at my feet, eyeing the group with judgment like only a feline can.That tall blonde one smells like she bathes in money. Also, she’s mean. I can tell. Mean people have a smell. Unlike you, Bizzy. You smell like pancakes and bacon.
I wink down at her for the compliment.
Or at least I think it was a compliment.
Sherlock bounds over with his tongue adorably wagging.Why are all the hoomans standing so far from the buffet? There are bacon-wrapped treats just waiting to be gobbled up! Quick, Bizzy, this is our chance! You sneak me as many as you can and I promise to never tell Jasper.
Well, if I do smell like bacon, that might explain Sherlock’s fierce loyalty to me. He might have been Jasper’s dog first, but I like to think I’ve stolen the top spot in his bacon-loving heart.
I pull out a few treats from my pocket and toss them down to him for good measure.
A few sharp barks come from the left and I glance over to see a blonde standing slightly apart from the group, clutching a small Jack Russell terrier that’s vibrating with barely contained energy. It’s the same cutie pie that I saw earlier. The dog spots Sherlock and loses its tiny mind.
BIG DOG! FRIEND! Must investigate! Must sniff! Must PLAY! Must get my paws on his snacks!
The woman tightens her grip, looking uncomfortable.She’s younger than the others, maybe late twenties, with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and a nervous energy that makes you want to offer her a sedative.
