Roc and Yuri went from fascinated with my brother’s bullshit to bending over laughing.
“You’ve seen him in the shower,” I added.
Phil wasn’t pleased with me, not to put too fine a point on it.
“What do you want?” Phil barked at me.
I handed him his hotel-room keys. Yuri snatched them out of his hand.
“I better keep these.”
“Give them back,” Phil said.
I shook my head and left them to work it out. I’d done my big-brother good deed for the week; it was now time to party.
◊◊◊
The prom committee had done a great job. The theme was ‘under the sea.’ I would guess that it had been popular when my parents were in high school, but they’d done an excellent job all the same. At the entrance and around the sides were balloon arches with cutout fish hanging from strings. Each table had a collection of seashells as a centerpiece.
Of course, we had the obligatory photographer. This year it was a creepy old guy who didn’t generate much business. With the advent of selfies and social media, there wasn’t really a need for a formal picture anymore. I would much rather see photos of my friends and me having a good time than something staged.
I was glad to see that they’d saved money and gotten a DJ instead of springing for a band. She at least had a little something for everyone instead of our being stuck listening to the same style of music all night.
Cassidy was a good sport and accompanied me to the dance floor. I knew she wasn’t as into dancing as a regular girl would have been, but she did it to make me happy.
At the first break, Stacy—Tim’s date—got up to make announcements. She had been the chairperson of the Prom committee. I was glad she took the time to introduce all her committee members to give them a little recognition.
“It’s time to announce your Prom Queen and King. Can I have a drum roll, please?” Stacy asked.
We all pounded on our tables to support her. Standing up front, she had two of her committee members holding the crowns for tonight’s winners.
“The Prom Queen is … Stacy Clute!” she said and began to dance around.
Then she looked embarrassed.
“Did I say that out loud?” she asked as her helper ripped the crown off her head.
I noticed she waited until one of her friends had snapped her picture for posterity. I loved that she’d pulled the fake winner and called out herself. If you were in charge, why not?
“Drum roll,” she told us. “This year’s Prom Queen is … Pam Bell.”
Poor Pam had no idea we’d been politicking for her to win this year. She looked to be in total shock at winning. Stacy sent her helpers out to drag Pam up front so she could put her crown on.
“Okay, this next one is almost as shocking as Darius Rossetti winning homecoming king. It was also one of the closest votes I’ve ever been involved with,” Stacy said, building the drama.
“Drum roll!” she said.
She had us all grinning at her antics.
“Prom King is …” she said and ripped open the envelope. “This can’t be right, can it?”
Her two helpers got together and read the results. They called over a couple of others, and there seemed to be a heated debate. Finally, Stacy shrugged and accepted their verdict. She turned to the crowd.
“David Dawson,” she said, deadpan.
I started mentally making a list as I observed the looks of shock and utter disbelief shown by everyone in the crowd.
“We want a recount!” Wolf yelled.
Yep! Dead to me. They had punked me. I strode up, grabbed my crown out of Stacy’s hand, and put it on. I also grabbed the microphone.
“You forget that I know where you all live,” I warned as the DJ began the music for the King and Queen dance.
I walked to Pam and gave her a warm smile.
“Milady, may I have this dance?” I asked formally as I gave her a slight bow.
She curtsied back and took my hand.
As we walked out onto the floor, Johan, of all people, grabbed the mic.
“This won’t do,” he said, shaking his head. “We need some music for our farm boy.”
I began to laugh when I heard the opening refrain from She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy.
Pam was a good sport and began to shimmy to the upbeat country song that implies his girl likes the singer’s tractor more than him. I grabbed her, and we started to two-step. Pam was a good dancer, so she followed my lead as we spun all over the dance floor.
When the song ended, Pam and I gave our subjects a royal wave and returned to our dates. Cassidy had grabbed me a water, which I was taking advantage of when Stacy snatched my crown off my head.
“We’ll just hang onto this until the recount is finished,” she teased and then leaned in close. “Thanks for being such a good sport. When we got the idea, everyone wanted in on it.”
“It was funny,” I admitted. “Thank you for putting this on tonight. You and your committee did a great job.”
“I’ll pass that on,” Stacy said.
As she walked away, Cassidy slid under my arm.
“That meant a lot to her.”
“I hope so because I meant it.”
She kissed my cheek and pulled me out onto the dance floor, where the DJ was playing a bunch of slow songs that weren’t country or western.
◊◊◊
I watched in amusement as Destiny draped herself all over Damion on the dance floor. They’d obviously both been drinking, and it was clear where this evening was headed for the two of them. In fact, I was afraid we might witness it live. I shot a quick video and sent it to Brook. I figured she would be amused at seeing her former frenemy making a fool of herself.
A minute later, Cassidy received a call. How did I know? Her phone rang in my pocket. Since she didn’t have anywhere to keep it, I’d been put in charge of it. I glanced down and saw it was Brook, so I handed it to my date.
“Yeah, he’s standing next to me,” Cassidy said, and then instead of handing me the phone back, she put it on speaker.
Miss Nosy Pants wanted to hear what we had to say.
“Before you tell me how sexy I look, I want to warn you that Cassidy put you on speaker. And, Destiny’s brother, Don, is listening,” I said before she trashed Destiny.
Cassidy’s whiskey-colored eyes suddenly flared golden, like they did when she planned to hurt someone. I’d better remember that she would side with Brook if we got into it.
I heard Brook take a deep breath, and she paused to think about what she wanted to say.
“David, you have to do something about this,” Brook ordered.
“So, what is it that takes this from Destiny’s usual psycho circus with optional admission to a new level? To the point where her crazy train running everyone down on the dance floor means I have to do something about it? Why don’t you have Don go pull her off her date?” I asked.
“Three reasons,” Brook shot back. “The first is Don is her brother, and she’ll never listen to him. Second, Damion knows you and won’t kick your ass. Finally, I’m asking you to.”
“We could’ve just skipped to the last one,” I complained.
“All I have to do is ask, and you’d do stuff for me?” Brook teased.
“I would, for you,” I said in all seriousness.
All of a sudden, I saw Cassidy’s mental gears turning. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave me the ‘who, me?’ look she got when she was up to something. I would lay a large amount of money on her calling my ex the next time she wanted something.
“Do you think Damion will take advantage of her?” Brook asked to get to the heart of the matter.
Frick! As much as Destiny and I didn’t get along—she was always pointing out how weird I was—that didn’t mean I wanted her to be taken advantage of. Even when she’d gotten drunk at State, she hadn’t been molested. They’d written on her face with a permanent marker, but she probably deserved that.
“Damion has always had that slick-as-goose-shit feel to him when it comes to his morals towards women. So, yeah, he wouldn’t hesitate,” I admitted.