Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“I’m going to kill you!” I shouted, ignoring the laughter from those watching us. She turned her head to taunt me, flipping the bird as she ran.
“Come and get—shit!” the words cut off as she suddenly disappeared. Not disappeared, as in tripping and falling. I mean disappeared. One minute she was there and the next she was gone.
“Jess!” I shouted again, anger turning to fear. She hadn’t been that far ahead of me. I kept my eyes open, stopping just short of where she’d been, approaching slowly. It seemed unlikely that she’d been teleported away by aliens, but you never know . . .
“Jessica?” I called, hesitant.
“Down here.”
Looking around, all I saw was grassy meadow. “I don’t see anything.”
“There’s a hole in the ground,” she said. “You’re right over me—I can see you. Look down.”
I looked down, and sure enough, there was a hole in the ground, maybe a foot wide . . . foot and a half, tops. I dropped to my hands and knees, peering down. It was dark, really dark. I could hardly see her, but she seemed to be down there a ways. Shit.
“What the hell is that? It looks like a cave.”
“Sure looks like it.”
“Do you see a way out?” I asked, looking back at the house anxiously. Our watchers had lost interest in us. I dug in my pocket for my phone, hoping I had service.
“Step back,” Jessica told me. Frowning, I followed her instructions, mouth dropping as her head and shoulders popped out above the ground.
“How did you do that?”
“I just stood up, silly,” she replied. “I would’ve sooner but I needed to text this.”
She gave me a wicked grin as she held up her cell phone, showing off the picture of me on top of Mr. Banana Hammock.
“If you tell me you sent that to Painter, I’m going to kick your head off like a dandelion,” I hissed, glaring at my best friend. Former best friend.
“Settle your panties,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Do I look like I’d send it to Painter? No, I sent it to Hunter, Em’s old man. I may have sent it to Reese, too. Hard to remember. I know I sent him the one of London.”
A very, very dark suspicion reared its head.
“Jessica . . .”
“Yes?” she said, fluttering her lashes at me innocently.
“Are you and Kit using the party to collect blackmail material on all the women in the club?” I asked, my voice carefully level. Jessica frowned, and I swear she looked almost hurt.
“Of course not,” she said, pushing herself up and out of the hole. “Blackmail means you want money or something, right? We’re just doing this for fun, Mel. I’m not trying to take your money. I’d never blackmail you or any of the other girls.”
She shook her head at me sadly, conveying profound disappointment in my lack of trust.
“I’m going to find Dancer. She should know about this cave thing—I got out just fine, but some little kid could get stuck down there for real.”
• • •
The pillow fight had ended by the time we got back, apparently transitioning into a water fight. Either that or Dancer was using a hose in an attempt to control the herd of drunken women currently dancing in her backyard.
“Jessica!” Kit yelled as we came back. “You’re here—good news! We’re already getting responses on our pictures!”
Fuck, how many people were they sending them to?
“Reese is going to strangle me,” London said, coming to stand next to me. Her white T-shirt had gone totally transparent, showing off a gorgeous black bra.
A spray of water hit me in the face, then splattered down across my chest.
“You’re welcome!” Dancer shouted, laughing. I shook my head like a dog, trying to get some of the water off. Bad idea, because I still wasn’t totally steady on my feet. What the fuck was in that punch? Dancer and London caught me, one on each arm.
“Thanks,” I managed to say, watching as Dancer aimed her hose again, spraying down another woman I didn’t recognize.
“Why are you hosing everyone down?”
“Damage control,” she said, her words slurring ever so slightly.
“Damage control?”
“Yeah, the girls have been texting pictures of us with the strippers to the men. I got a tip-off—Bam Bam, Horse, and Reese are coming to break it up. I guess once we started groping random naked guys they’d had enough of the bachelorette party.”
“So you’re spraying everyone with water because . . . ?”
“Because guys get off on girls in wet T-shirts,” she said, as if the answer were obvious. What? “There isn’t a man alive who doesn’t secretly pray that when women get together, we have pillow fights followed by wet T-shirt contests. Bam has a thing for mud wrestling, too, but I’m drawing the line here—gotta keep it classy. By the time the guys get here to claim their old ladies, we’ll be ready for them. I already paid off the strippers. If they’re smart, they’ve already left.”