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“Shut up!” Marlow snaps with a grin. “But!” He spreads his arms like a showman. “Let’s stay close. This is our home. It could’ve been much worse if you, Archer, didn’t bring us here on that fateful Spring Break.” The room goes really quiet now. He’s right, but he hit a sensitive topic. “And we try to make the best of it. The only way it can be is if we keep tabs on each other. Love you, man!” He stabs his forefinger at Archer in the crowd. “Happy Birthday, Archer!”
32
KAT
The villa eruptsin cheers and whistles. I stand behind Archer at a distance and watch Margot kiss him on his cheek. She only gets this one chance. Another peck, and she’ll be floating strangled in the pool later tonight.
The DJ turns up the music.
The waiters come out with appetizers and trays of drinks, and everyone disperses as Archer fights off several people, ruffles his hair, and looks around, searching.
He finally finds me in the crowd behind him, and I give him the warmest smile I have.
MyArcher.
Everyone steps away from him as I approach.
“Happy Birthday,” I say and kiss him on the lips. His cheeks are smudged with lipstick, but his lips are my domain. “You are not mad, are you?”
“Not at all. Thank you.”
But he’s struggling, even though it’s unnoticeable to anyone but me. He looks away, trying to smile, and I feel like there’s a mist of tears in his eyes.
A little over a month with these people let me on a lot of secrets. Affairs, grudges, chronic depression, painkillers, drug and booze addiction, one suicidal attempt besides Archer, broken hearts, and mental breakdowns. I can only imagine what two years stranded on a resort can do. It’s the size of a small town, but just like Marlow joked, money can’t buy mental wellness.
But these people have bonds that go way back. The bonds from the times when they were happy and invincible, and those memories will never fade, not even after what the world endured after the Change.
Despite Archer’s arguments, what he needs right now is friends and support.
I leave him talking to Cece. Plenty of people want a minute with the Chancellor. They miss him.
I spot Axavier, who looks slick in a designer tiger-print surf tank and leather pants, emanating excessive cologne, over-the-top hair products, immaculately lathered skin—he doesn’t even know that he’s giving himself away.
Being in the closet is a bitch.
“Babe, don’t try so hard,” I tell him.
“Try what?”
“Pretending like you’re having a good time when all you do is steal glances in that direction.” I nod toward Milan, Cece’s stylist, his blue hair in stark contrast with his yellow pants and an unbuttoned vest over his bare torso. He looks calmer but edgy, throwing occasional glances across the room at Axavier.
“Why are you paranoid about coming out?” I ask. “These are your friends.”
“I don’t need to come out,” he hisses under his breath. “I’m bi. Whatever.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly. Some chicks are not into guys who swing both ways.”
“Oooooh-ho-ho.” I cough up a burst of low laughter. “Greedy, aren’t we? You wanna swing both ways but wanna make sure you keep it all compartmentalized. Wow, dude. Good luck.”
“I don’t need luck.”
“You’ll need something soon. Judging by how antsy you are around Milan. What is he?” I pause in pretend thoughtfulness. “Plan B? Sidekick?” I smirk at Axavier rolling his eyes. “Tail-gating? Is that what this is?”
“Fuck off, Kat.”
“Drinks! Drinks! Drinks!” Margot and one of her loyal Chihuahuas sashay toward us through the crowd with a tray of cocktails.
