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The doorbell rang.
“They’re here early.” She wrung her hands. “I haven’t put the place cards out on the table yet.”
Josh steered her toward the door by her shoulders. “You go and greet our guests. I’ll set the place cards.”
Clara dumped the paper triangles with each person’s name written in calligraphy into his cupped hands and hurried to the door.
Naomi stood on the doorstep, along with a handful of other cast and crew members that Clara recognized but didn’t know by name. Naomi pressed a large plastic veggie tray into Clara’s arms. “I don’t cook and I don’t chop.”
“I don’t blame you.” Frankly, the idea of Naomi wielding a knife was terrifying. “Thanks for coming. This is perfect.” Clara pointed to the door that led out back. “Party’s through there.”
Clara collected a few other food items as guests in flip-flops and tank tops snaked by, introducing themselves and thanking her for the invitation. The crowd grew larger than she’d originally accounted for. Good thing she had plenty of food.
After s
ome last-minute prep, Clara joined the rest of the group in the yard. Despite the music playing, the scene had not achieved the air of jovial camaraderie she’d hoped to inspire. She noticed with bemusement that a few of the guys had turned her place cards into paper footballs. Oh well. At least they’d put them to use. She made her way over to where Josh and Naomi stood in a corner talking. With more than her typical nonchalance, Josh’s ex handed him something small and black, smoothly, the way Clara’s dad passed a tip to the valet.
Clara caught only the tail end of the sentence that accompanied the covert gesture. “. . . that’s got my stuff and everything from Ginger.”
Josh shoved the item into his pocket when he noticed her approach. “All done in the kitchen?” He turned his dimples to high beam.
“Uh, yeah. Everything okay out here?” Clara’s brain flipped through a dozen explanations for that handoff. Not the least ridiculous of which was that Naomi had passed Josh some kind of electronic key to a hidden sex dungeon. But what kind of “stuff” did one keep on a key? More likely it was a flash drive of some kind which was . . . only slightly less disconcerting. It’s none of your business anyway, a prim voice in her head reminded her.
“I think we’re off to a bit of a slow start.” Josh frowned at the tepid gathering.
Now that he mentioned it, the party wasn’t exactly lively. Most of their guests looked as uncomfortable as Clara felt.
“You need to encourage interaction,” Naomi said. “Half these people don’t know one another. You’ve got a bunch of strangers together and is that Shania Twain playing from your phone?” She stared at Clara accusingly. “No wonder it’s awkward.”
Who doesn’t like ‘Man! I Feel Like A Woman!’? “Ooh. I have an idea. I’ve got a list of questions, originally developed by Marcel Proust to rouse meaningful conversation, in my room. I could grab those—”
“No,” Josh and Naomi said in unison.
Josh turned down the music and called the guests to attention. “How about a round of old-school Never Have I Ever?”
A couple people exchanged sly smiles. Others laughed and moved to top off their drinks.
“You’re on, Darling,” a woman who’d introduced herself as Stacy said. Her date, one of the place card abusers, whooped and drained his beer before punting it on the ground.
“Adult performers love Never Have I Ever because it gives them a chance to brag about all the sex they’ve had,” Naomi explained as she led Clara over to the table to play.
Interesting. Clara had played the game a few times at camp. She knew that more often than not the questions centered on illicit activities. Though she had to imagine this crowd defined illicit differently than the counselors of Camp Sparrow.
Still, drinking games were a good idea. A social lubricant would set everyone at ease. She poured herself a glass of punch and joined the fray.
“All right, everyone. Let’s play with both hands up, and the final person standing can shotgun a beer at the end of the round. Last time we played with the rule that you had to drink for everything you’d done, the whole party ended up trashed.” Josh smirked. “I’ll start. Never have I ever fucked both members of a married couple.”
His ex dropped a finger along with a few others. Clara lowered her eyebrows before anyone noticed her surprise.
“Never have I ever come so hard I passed out,” Stacy said. Many more fingers fell.
Clara shifted her weight from side to side. She had never considered that possibility. How . . . ?
“Never have I ever fucked ten times in one day.”
Even Josh had lowered a finger on that one. But . . . that defied science. She wanted to call a doctor.
“Never have I ever been offered a million dollars for a one-night stand.”
