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That had always been the plan for if I wanted to sneak out for an Untapped Potential gig. In case Mom or Dad ever asked anyone where I was, no doubt they’d answer, “Oh, I just spoke with her,” and the conversation would saddle off into some different topic, like the college seed I’d been planting into people’s heads. It worked every time.
Except—“Uh, they’ll notice when they load into the car and I’m not with them.”
Margot raised an eyebrow at me, her tone obvious. “You’re riding with me.”
“Yeah,okay. And how areyougetting home? You know, since I have your magical carriage and all. Won’t your parents wonder where your car went?”
Her expression turned mischievous. “Nah, they probably won’t notice. And, come on, what’s the point of having blackmail material if you never call it in?”
Slowly, I took the car keys from her fingers, turning them over in my hand. “Can you find a ride without giving Mrs. Holland a heart attack?”
“You’re too nice for your own good,” Margot said, but even though her expression was flat, her voice was gentle. “I’ll find a ride.”
I prompted her, “Without…”
“Without asking Mrs. Holland. Buzzkill.” Now Margot’s voice matched her expression. “You ruin my fun torturing the elderly, you know that?”
“Mrs. Holland is hardly elderly.” I chuckled under my breath, taking a step back to where the VIP parking was. The Masseys always go to park close since Margot’s dad was the mayor of Addison, whereas Margot had to go to the general parking to find Mom’s checkbook. “I’ll stop by your house around eleven-thirty. You can take me home from there?”
With a nod, she winked at me. “Don’t have too much fun tonight.”
As we walked in opposite directions, I looked down at the foreign car keys in my hand, the key chains knocking together. I slid the pad of my thumb over#1 Daughter, wondering where Margot’s parents might’ve picked it up. They had seen it and thought of her. If my parents saw a#1 Daughterkeychain, would they think of me? Would they think of Nellie? Would they even think twice?
Pressing the key fob, I heard Margot’s car unlock with a beep, offering the promise of an escape.
Without thinking twice, I took it.
* * *
I stopped at the house to wriggle out of the sausage dress and grab my Stella bag, so it was after ten-thirty when I got into the club. Untapped Potential would’ve finished playing by the time I got to Crushed Beanz, so the next best thing? Going to Downtown.
Bayview had a nightclub called Downtown, and on nights when I wasn’t quite ready to go home after watching Untapped Potential play, I headed to Downtown. It had live music and sometimes a DJ, giving me never-ending opportunities to dance until I dropped.
The eighteen-plus kind of placeshould’veturned away my seventeen-year-old self at the door, except apparently the girls at my private school made fantastic fake IDs.
Bayview wasn’t really a popular place among my peers, so I never worried about spotting anyone I knew.
My mascara still felt a little sticky from how quickly I’d swiped it on in the car, like tiny clumps of glue sticking my lashes together. Even though I might’ve layered on the makeup—foundation, contour, concealer, eyeshadow—I feltpretty. I felt fierce and strong and confident, like I could do or say anything.
Confidence came easily when I wasn’t Destelle.
The bass thumped loudly as the band played the next song, a cover of a popular one that I immediately recognized. My body picked up on the tempo, swaying to the beat as I made my way through the dancing people. I smiled at the heat that emanated from everyone, the smell of cologne and perfume and sweat mixing in the air. With the pulsing lights and earth-quaking beat, I was at home.
Gently, I coasted my fingers through my wig.Stellawas at home.
When I danced, I felt more relaxed, as if each sway of my hips and step of my feet unleashed all the pent-up tension that had accumulated in my body over the course of the week.
When I first started out living my double life, the prospect of dancing in public sounded insane. Destelle, who didnothinglike that, would never have considered it.
Stella, though, thrived on the freedom of it. This kind of music had full control of the way my body moved, and as soon as I started dancing, people always came closer to join me. I smiled at a girl with neon purple eyeshadow who began bobbing her head with me. Another girl at her side moved a little off-beat, but she seemed to be having a good time.
Nights like this were perfect. I had a little less than an hour to dance before I had to be home for curfew, and I’d be drinking in every freaking second.
As I spun in a circle, my gaze snagged on a familiar figure, eyes recognizing him quicker than my brain processed. Way quicker. I stared at him almost as if I’d forgotten his name.
At a rapid speed, my eyes took in every inch of him. He leaned against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets. His eyes were on the stage, nodding along to the beat as the pulsing lights danced across his features. His white shirt fit loosely, and black suspenders hugged over his shoulders, more an accessory than anything else. A black tattoo lined his throat, the loosely outlined shape of a hand.
Harry Russo, lead singer of Untapped Potential.
