Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
It’s the earnest look in her eye. It’s the eager way she leans toward me.
She’s excited about the party, and she really wants me to be there.
I’ve gotten close with Allison these last couple weeks. She’s an incredibly smart person—way smarter than I ever realized—and her life’s been hard. Her father dragged her all over the place when she was growing up, from base to base, never letting her form any meaningful friendships. She learned not to get attached, because people don’t ever stick around, and that has carried on into her semi-adulthood.
But I can tell she’s trying to put down roots, and I want to encourage that.
“Only if you promise there will be free drinks.”
She shifts from foot to foot. “Well, after that luau thing, Lisa says we can’t have free booze because it got out of hand, but I’ll buy you wine. As much wine as you want, okay?”
I sigh and give her a hug. “I’ll be there. I promise. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Really?” She perks up. “You mean it?”
“Yes, I mean it. Next Friday, the Lincoln. What time?”
“Six sharp. It’s indoors this time. We’re going for a Roaring Twenties theme, so come as a flapper. Actually, I’ll buy you a costume, don’t worry. What are your measurements again? No, don’t worry, this is going to be amazing.”
I give her a look. Costume? Measurements? But she’s so excited and I don’t have the heart to say no.
“Sounds great.”
She claps her hands together, oozing excitement, and I’m already dreading it.
Chapter 38
Isabel
The dress is absurd. I’m in this sexy flapper outfit, but only in the loosest sense.
Gold and silver beading, sheer skirt, a slit down the chest practically to my belly button. Plenty of cleavage, lots of skin, more beading hanging down toward my gray high heels. It sparkles, shimmering in the light, and several long beaded necklaces draw even more attention to my boobs. My hair’s up, and a sparkly silver headband completes the ensemble.
I feel obscene, except Allison’s dress is even worse. Shorter, tighter, more like a slip than actual clothes. It leaves very little to the imagination, and yet she pulls it off. The girl’s got a great body, I have to admit it. I’m a little jealous.
“You look so good,” she says as she takes my arm. We head up to the main doors of the Lincoln and my legs feel like they’re encased in concrete.
I haven’t been back since leaving a couple of weeks ago.
“This is weird,” I tell her. Other people mill around, all of them wearing period-appropriate outfits. More flapper girls, guys in zoot suits, lots of pinstripes and long cigarettes. “It’s extremely weird.”
“Relax, it’s a party, right? I think there should be a couple of hundred people here.” She laughs, sounding nervous for the first time. “Lisa’s going to cut my throat if it gets out of hand.”
“You’ve got this under control,” I say, patting her arm even if I don’t actually think she does. “The place looks amazing.”
Which is true: the Lincoln’s been decorated in more mid-century style. It looks like Jay Gatsby’s mansion. Champagne’s everywhere, for a modest fee.
“You know what’s sad? This is the first time I’ve ever really cared about something before. That’s totally pathetic, right?”
“I don’t think that’s pathetic at all. You worked hard, you should care.”
“No, caring is stupid. If you care, then you can get hurt. People use it against you, and I don’t ever want to put myself in that position. It’s easier just not to give a shit.”
I shake my head and turn to face her, squeezing her shoulders. “Young people always think it’s cool not to care, but they’re always wrong. People that care are so much more interesting. They’re engaged, they’re passionate, they actually feel things. People that don’t care are just empty shells. Who the hell cares about an empty shell?”
She laughs nervously. “I don’t want to be a shell anymore, which sucks. I was good at it.”
“Maybe this means you’re growing up, huh? Welcome to adulthood. It doesn’t get better.” I hug her tightly. “The place looks amazing. You should be proud.”
She beams at me. “Thanks, big sis. You’re a pretty cool person, you know that? By the way, Conlan’s lurking around here somewhere.”
My mouth drops open. “Wait, I thought you said—”
“He changed his mind. Sorry! Anyway, gotta make the rounds. Love ya, I’ll find you again soon, I promise.” Then she’s gone, stalking through the crowd, kissing cheeks and shaking hands.
And I’m left alone.
How the hell did that just happen? She seemed afraid, like genuinely vulnerable for the first time since I’ve met her, but then her walls came back up and her doors slammed shut and she’s got her armor back on.
I’m honestly impressed.
I take a lap of the Lincoln. I recognize some of the people working and stop by to say hello—it’s not nearly as awkward as I expected. And it’s kind of nice being here as a guest. I don’t have any responsibility or worries aside from wandering around, looking at the decorations, and drinking a couple glasses of champagne.