Beware That Girl by Teresa Toten

An off-duty cop?” I asked.
    “No,” she sighed. “It’s Chris, my dad’s personal guy.”
    Wow. Aside from surviving multiple marriages, I couldn’t imagine what her old man had done to deserve personal security. Rich people were another species.
    “Cool,” I said.
    Claudette warmed to me more with every sip of her drink. “Well, all sorts of crap happens at these things, and not just because of the mix.” She eyed some of the public boys through her monster mink lashes. “My sister, Rachel, said that some weird stuff went down at a few parties last year. You take your chances with public-private.”
    “Yeah, places get trashed everywhere no matter what the mix, though. It’s a timeless rite of passage for the brain-dead.” I surveyed the town house. Claudette and I were with a few dozen kids on the open-concept first floor; the second bar and DJ were on the level below. Unlike Olivia’s father, Claudette’s dad came from the “more is more” school of decorating. Every single item called attention to itself. Look at me—I am crazy expensive!
    “Some kids just run wild out of the blue.” She waved her hand around for emphasis. “Like our dear Olivia. My sister said that she was on quite a tear for a while.”

    “Yeah, we’ve laughed about that,” I lied.
    “Wish I could have seen it.” She sighed into her drink. “Then a few weeks later the party queen disappears and reappears this year as the ice queen. No rumors with any decent traction either, although Rachel did say that ice queen was more her MO as a junior and sophomore.”
    You could tell that Claudette would give her left arm to be considered an ice queen. Meanwhile, I was wondering if that was when Olivia had met the bad boy. Did he goad her on at parties? “Yeah, strange stuff happens. Hormones. Whaddya gonna do?” I was glad for the info but felt I had to put her back in her place. “I hear your sister is doing really well in rehab.”
    “Yeah, for sure.” Claudette blinked at me happily. I swear, the girl’s most distinguishing feature was her benign stupidity. “Hey, I really appreciate you girls making an appearance. I know it’s the first party you’ve come to. I’m, like, so totally flattered.”
    I bathed Claudette in a few more compliments before extricating myself. Where was my ice queen?
    Serena and Morgan were by the bar. It looked as if they were trying to explain some nuclear drink recipe to the bartender. Three Rigby boys were cheering them on. Olivia must have gone downstairs. When I turned to find the stairs or the elevator, or whatever they had in this place, I was accosted by a guy in a black T-shirt and black jeans.
    Jesus. It was the bakery boy.
    He was carrying a Michelob Ultra, which he promptly thrust into my hand.
    “I’ve been scoping you out for almost an hour. You don’t look like the green apple martini type.”
    How dare he? How dare he think that—especially since he was right. I hated pretending that I loved Chablis and fancy cocktails. I was so furious, I could taste the fillings in my mouth. “What are you doing here?”

    “Same as you, I’m guessing.” Wicked smile. “Except I’m here as local color, and to make the private school boys nervous.”
    So he wasn’t stupid.
    At least three girls were tracking him. Bakery boy was a wow, and way worse, he so knew it. I tried to center myself. It was all so heart-thumpingly bizarre. How much did he know? How much could he blow? I didn’t get any threatening vibes off him, but you could never be sure. “So I look like the light beer type?”
    He ignored that. “I’ve missed you at the Chens’. Just as I was calling up the balls to ask you out for a coffee, you disappeared.” He looked around the room. “You’ve moved up and on, I take it.”
    I ignored that. “Yes, I’ve been at Waverly since September. Olivia Sumner is my best friend, and I live with her.” I was smiling but I said it through clenched teeth.
    He shook his head.