That was a lie, the kind that even Grayson couldn’t will into being true.
“My father shot and killed himself when I was four years old.” The girl’s voice was calmer than it should have been. “I was the only one in the house with him when it happened. And do you know what the last thing he said to me was?”
Twin muscles in Grayson’s throat tightened. “How did you get this number?” he demanded. In the back of his mind, he could see it. A small girl. A man with a gun.
“Shockingly, asshole, my father’s last words were not How did you get this number.”
Grayson waited for her to tell him what those last words had been, and when she didn’t, he realized: She’d hung up.
I am not responsible for the things the old man did. Grayson stared at the phone for far too long, then put it down. The only things he was responsible for right now were testing that blank index card for invisible ink and getting dressed.
What the hell did people wear to high school parties?
CHAPTER 29
GRAYSON
You have worn shorts before, haven’t you?”
Grayson narrowed his eyes at Gigi. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Instead, he took in the scene around them. The Trowbridge abode had one of those modern, open floorplans. The only thing demarcating the foyer, dining room, kitchen, living room, and Great Room from one another was the decor. Overhead, a dozen teenagers leaned against a minimalist railing. At least three of them appeared to be trying to toss Ping-Pong balls over the railing and into plastic cups below.
Their aim was horrible.
A ball ricocheted by. Grayson didn’t even blink. Instead, he assessed the partygoers on the ground floor—and those he could see through glass doors leading out back to the pool. There were perhaps fifty or sixty teenagers here total. No adults.
Grayson let his gaze return to Gigi, who smiled impishly. “Can you dance?” she asked Grayson. “If I can’t sneak back to the private wing unassisted, I might need you to dance.”
“You will not need me to dance,” Grayson replied in a tone that very few people would have dared to question.
“My job is stealth,” Gigi told him seriously. “Yours is distraction. I believe in you, Grayson.” She flashed her phone’s screen at him. “And so does this cat.”
Gigi grinned, pocketed the phone, and then nodded toward a staircase in the back corner. The steps were made of glass, each one seemingly suspended midair. Savannah stood three steps down from the top. There was a boy beside her and one step up. Clearly, the two of them were holding court.
“That’s Duncan,” Gigi murmured. “He has the personality of a bagel, but around here, people go for that.” Then, as if compelled to be fair to both Duncan and bagels, she continued, “He’s not bad. Just… boring. Expected.”
Grayson watched as the boy in question put an arm around Savannah’s waist. She didn’t stiffen, didn’t blink, didn’t give a single indication that she felt it at all. “And Savannah does what’s expected,” he noted. Give my regards to Girl Grayson! he could hear Xander saying.
“More or less,” Gigi replied. Without warning, she bounded off and returned a moment later holding an open bottle, which she promptly thrust into his hand. “Hold this. Try to look normal. And watch for my signal.”
Before he could ask What signal? she was gone. Grayson looked down at the bottle in his hand, which had a bright yellow label and appeared to be… alcoholic lemonade of some sort?
He looked back to the staircase, to Savannah—and she looked straight through him.
Grayson took a drink. Too sweet. He resisted the urge to make a face and returned to taking the measure of his surroundings: the people, the music, the place, all of it. While most of the furniture was clearly expensive, far too many of the pieces aimed to impress. The result fit the version of Kent Trowbridge that Grayson had seen the night before. Neither possessed any real finesse.
Moving through the party, Grayson kept his head down and his eyes open. He’d attended charity galas and business events, cocktail hours, professional sporting events, and the opening of the New York Stock Exchange.
He could handle one high school party.
“I haven’t seen you at one of these before.” A girl fell in next to him and smiled, and the next thing Grayson knew, he was surrounded by no fewer than three of her friends, all exits blocked.
“One of these… parties.” Grayson tried to sound normal. He took a very normal swig out of the bottle in his hand. Still too sweet.