Page 43 of Darcy in Hollywood


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Elizabeth prayed for strength. “That is not a good thing.” She took her sister’s elbow. “I think you’ve had enough. How about I drive you home?”

Lydia gaped at her. “Why would I leave now? I haven’t even been in the pool.”

“You’re drunk.”

Lydia shrugged so violently she nearly toppled over. “So? I’m nineteen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at my age?”

“You’re underage!”

“Like that means anything. If I were in college, I’d be going to frat parties.”

Elizabeth tried a different tack. “You’re going to feel lousy in the morning. Let me take you home.”

Lydia raised her chin. “No, I have to take George his drink.”

Elizabeth rubbed her hands over her face. “George doesn’t need more booze either.”

Lydia swayed closer to her sister and glared. “You are such a prude! It’s good you’re leaving Hollywood. No one wants to party with Debbie Downer!”

“I just want you to be safe.”

Lydia nodded knowingly. “You’re jealous that George likes me more.”

Oh good lord. “I don’t want George, and he’s too old for you.” Jeez, now I really sound like I’m sixty.

“Old? Lizzy, he’s twenty-four. That’s only five years older than me! He’s not some old fogey like Darcy.”

Elizabeth winced. What had Lydia noticed? “Darcy’s not old.”

Lydia snickered. “Of course, you like him. He’s a complete bore.” She put on an affected English accent. “Look at me; I’m Darcy. I only do Masterpiece Theatre.”

“You’ve been panting over Darcy for weeks.”

Lydia shrugged. “Yeah, I’d totally hit that, but he’s still a fogey.”

“I don’t like Will—not like that.” She took the drinks from Lydia’s unresisting hands and set them on a nearby table. “You’re plastered, and soon you’re going to feel like someone took a blender to your innards.”

Lydia giggled. “I have a plan for that.”

“A plan?”

“George is an EMT, right? So if the booze makes me sick, he’ll take care of me. He knows all that first-aid stuff. He can even help if I nee

d a defibbul…defillub…you know, one of those things where they shout ‘clear’ and it goes ‘ZZZ!’” She demonstrated with some dramatic gestures that drew attention from nearby partygoers.

“Don’t you think you should go home before that happens?”

“I don’t know.” Lydia put a finger to her lips in a parody of innocent confusion. “Do you know how to use a de-filla-bator?”

“I do. And moreover, I know how to locate water and aspirin, which is what you will need in the morning.” Elizabeth tried to steer her sister to the door.

Lydia rolled her eyes so hard that it looked like it hurt. “You are not my mother! Jeez, Lizzy. Leave me alone.”

She pulled her arm from Elizabeth’s grasp and grabbed one of the glasses, spilling half the scotch on her arm. But after taking two lurching steps away from her sister, Lydia stumbled to a halt. “I don’t feel so good.”

Uh-oh.

Fortunately, Elizabeth recalled the location of the bathroom and navigated Lydia into it before the vomiting started. When she stopped retching, Lydia gasped. “Maybe I had too much to drink.”

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