Annie clocked the girl responding to his goofy chuckle, how her obsidian eyes glinted and she swallowed quickly. Her smile lingered for a minute after Bryce bounded back to Annie, two glasses in hand.
“You made a new friend,” Annie said.
“Who?” He handed Annie the juice. “Rachel?”
Rachel Meeker? Annie stole a longer glance.
Rachel’s features were thick bold lines. They overpowered the planes of her face, and while she’d probably grow into them, right now she looked too severe. Or maybe she was mad, somehow knew that Annie was about to break her heart.
“What are we looking at?” Bryce said in a stage whisper.
“Rachel Meeker,” Annie whispered back. “I think she has a thing for you.”
“Not age-appropriate,” Bryce said. He shook his head clumsily and held a finger in the air. “But I was telling her, as I will tell you, Annie, that after this, there’s a party down the hill. At Dan’s. No. Dave’s.” He closed his eyes, bit his lip, swayed very slightly. “I forgot the kid’s name. The kid with the rabbits, you know? Chris’s cousin. He’s got a hutch for them, an actual rabbit hutch.”
“You’re drunk.” Annie felt annoyed at his sloppiness, left behind by it, which was hardly fair. She ignored her phone, which was trembling in her bag.
“Not as drunk as I will be,” Bryce said with indignation. “I’ve got the whole night planned. Should we ask Rachel for a bottle?”
Annie didn’t understand why she suddenly felt so guilty watching Rachel Meeker behind the bar. With her doting mother and ornate braids and perfect princess bedroom, she did not need any sympathy.
Shaken, Annie took a delicate sip of orange juice, returned her attention to Bryce, who hiccupped, pointed clumsily at her chiming bag.
His brow furrowed. “You gonna get that?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
For the book club meeting, Janine had transformed her living room into an art studio where the women could create their own still-life paintings. Their subject was a vase of flowers and a glass half filled with Deb Gallegos’s themed drink （Untitled—Pernod and champagne and lemon juice）。
Later, the group would agree that while the experience had been lovely, they wouldn’t re-create it. Everyone had been too contemplative, a bit in their own orbit.
Deb pushed her chair closer to Annie. “This isn’t book club,” she muttered, “it’s study hall. We should’ve gotten a live model.” She glanced at Annie’s painting. “You’re a terrible artist.”
Annie had to agree. Her canvas looked like blueberries on toast. “I know,” she said. “Wasn’t this supposed to be empowering?”
“Speaking of nudes,” Deb whispered, “have you heard of the hot untouchable?”
Annie shook her head. It was difficult sometimes to keep up with Deb.
“I overhead Sierra on the phone asking ‘is the hot untouchable coming to the party.’ She won’t tell me who she was talking to. Is Laurel seeing anyone?”
Annie frowned. “Laurel’s been spending time at Abe Pagano’s house. But I don’t think—”
Deb’s brows lowered to indicate that no, she couldn’t picture the pairing either. “Haley seemed the likely candidate anyway. But I had to ask.”
“Definitely Haley.”
“But it was strange. Sierra usually has a compulsion to tell me things, so I’m a little proud of her—maybe she’s finally learned to keep a secret—but I’m also dying to know. What qualities would make a teenager untouchable? I really hope it’s not something class-based. Are we raising elitist snobs or—”
“What are we whispering about?” Janine popped her head over the easel.
“Laurel’s party,” Deb said.
“Oh yes,” Janine sighed. “Poor Katie has a bit of the green-eyed grouchies. How’s the planning going? Anything I can do to help?”
Janine’s forlorn look indicated that perhaps Katie wasn’t the jealous one after all.
“Lena’s a powerhouse,” Annie marveled. “She’s got it more than covered.”
All three of them looked ahead to Lena, who gracefully dabbed at her canvas.
“The party is way bigger than Laurel,” Annie said. “It’s not even about her anymore. Tell Katie that it’s really for everyone at this point.”
MAY
To: “The Best Book Club in the World”
From: [email protected]