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1
London Kelley struggled to pinpoint the source of the persistent throb assaulting the base of her skull. It could’ve been the strobe lights bouncing off the Moroccan-themed decorations strewn about the ballroom where her fifteen-year high school reunion was being held. Or maybe it was the clamor of three hundred voices shouting over the blaring music.
The volume lowered a smidge before the DJ called out his next challenge to the crowd.
“All right, Class of 2007, let’s see if you remember this one.”
London took another sip of her rum and Coke. She’d started her own private drinking game, tossing back a hit whenever the DJ reminded them how long it had been since they’d graduated from high school.
It was also possible the alcohol was to blame for her headache.
The chatter subsided for a moment before erupting into hoots and hollers as the intro to Flo Rida’s “Low” began to play.
It would appear the class of 2007 did indeed remember this one.
Although it looked to London as if some of her classmates had forgotten they were wearing cocktail dresses instead of Apple Bottom jeans. The amount of underwear being flashed as they all got low, low, low, low rivaled the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.
As she glanced around the ballroom, her eyes landed on the current bane of her existence: that ridiculous chocolate fountain.
“Not again,” London growled.
She took a hasty sip from her glass before setting it on a passing waiter’s tray, then hurried toward the dessert table. Instead of a flowing curtain of silky milk chocolate, uneven clumps dripped from the three tiers, plopping into the pool at the fountain’s base. She wassoover this thing.
She searched for the banquet manager, but the short blonde was nowhere to be seen.
Recalling what had been done the last time it jammed—not even twenty minutes ago—London reached underneath the table skirt and unplugged the fountain. She used a skewered pineapple spear to swirl the chocolate, breaking up the blobs that had collected in the bowl until all was smooth.
“Oh no, did it stop working again?” called a voice from several feet away. It was Yvette, the banquet manager.
“It did, but I took care of it,” London said as she grabbed the plug and reinserted it.
“Wait! Not yet!” Yvette screeched a second too late.
The machine let out a loud whirr as bands of chocolate whipped from it, slashing across the table and landing on everything within a three-foot radius. Including London.
“Shit!” she hissed.
The banquet manager rushed to her side. “You have to turn it back to level one before starting it up again,” she said, quickly shutting down the fountain. “Or else you get…well…this.” She gestured to the mess before them.
“That’s good to know for the next time it jams,” London said. Hopefully the crowd’s roar from the DJ’s newest song drowned out her sarcasm. It wasn’t Yvette’s fault that she’d taken it upon herself to fix this stupid fountain.
London held her arms out, assessing the damage. She’d dodged the brunt of the fountain’s assault, incurring only a few streaks across her forearms and the front of her jumpsuit. She looked like those fancy strawberries with chocolate drizzled across them.
Several people dancing near the dessert table gawked at her, but they were too busy getting hot in herre with Nelly to help a fellow classmate in distress.
“Let me ask the bartender for a towel,” Yvette offered.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go wash up in a minute. I just need to check the buffet line to make sure we’re not running out of anything.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Yvette said.
“I can—”
“It’s my job,” the banquet manager stated, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. “It’s why you’re paying me.”
“You’re right.” London held up both hands and took a step back. “Yes, of course. I just…just want everything to be the way I envisioned it.”
Because even though she barely had time to take a breath these days, she’d felt compelled as class president to take over planning this reunion. Which meant that everything had to be perfect.
