I drop Khloe’s sample into the mailing envelope and then, carefully one by one, the others. “I’m mailing it off. And you’re not stopping me.”
“Do you know how wrong this is?”
I give her the stare. “Yeah. About as wrong as you thinking messing with the other testers would matter.”
She crosses her arms, challengingly. “Oh no, I didn’t just open them. I used them for their intended purpose. One of those is Eric’s. One of those is Ethan’s. One of those is mine.”
“What?” I frown. Why would she do that?
She shoves her face close to mine. “That’s how wrong this is, Kaley. Swabbing all of us is as wrong as you only swabbing yourself and Khloe and thinking that makes it OK. This is bad. It’s wrong. You can’t do this without hurting all of us. You didn’t even think of that, did you?”
I seal the mailing envelope. “For a genius, Krystal, you are pretty not-smart at times. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know which tester is which. I’m just mailing all of them off. All I need is two to match. Bingo. I win.”
She looks away, lower lips quivering and on the verge of tears as if she’s struggling hard against saying something she doesn’t want to tell me.
“It’s too late, Krystal. And I have a right to know who my father is.”
Her eyes are giant, frightened, glassy saucers in her face when she looks at me. “For a genius, you are pretty not-smart at times yourself. Don’t do this, Kaley. Please. I’m begging you. You’re going to ruin everything.”
CHAPTER 20
Zoe pulls into the curb in front of Velvet Jones, and puts the car in neutral.
I check my texts. No answer from Bobby. My internal panic grows more severe. It’s probably nothing. I’m just being paranoid. So he didn’t text me back when I texted him two hours ago. He’s out having fun with the guys. It was all good when he called me this morning. His not rapid-fire answering now is nothing to get all butt-hurt over.
Crap, I’m probably just freaking over this because I’ve been a tight bundle of nerves since I mailed off the kinship test. Chaotic. Afraid. Regretful. And really confused. So not the reaction I expected being this close to having the proof that Alan is my dad.
But then, everything has gone into the crapper since the day I mailed the test. Alan MIA for four days. I didn’t want that; to fuck with my mom’s happiness. I know he’s staying away because of that scene in the kitchen and I don’t know what to make of that. And then there’s Mom smiling in her life is wonderful way when the entire house is radiating with her internal mess. And, fuck, even Krystal is not speaking to me.
Crap, nothing has even happened yet because of the DNA test and my entire world is crumbling and Krystal won’t even talk to me.
Zoe turns toward me. “Come on, Kaley. Let’s have fun. Dance a little. Laugh a little. You look hot. Let’s just go into the club and forget about everything for one night, OK?”
I frown. “Bobby still hasn’t texted me back.” I lift my gaze to hers. “You didn’t tell him all the junk that happened, did you?”
Zoe does a frustrated growl. “No. For the ten-thousandth time, no. I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re my best friend. I’ll always have your back. That’s how it works.”
She smiles, and I nod.
She makes a silly face. “Good, let’s have fun.”
The valet opens my door and I step out. Crap, it’s packed tonight. Loud music pours outside from the building. A long line is waiting down the block. Even paparazzi. Something must be going on in the club. Thank God Zoe got us on the VIP list.
I strut toward the front of the rope line. Instantly eyes from every direction follow me in heated stares. Tonight I hate it. I want green eyes following me in a loving stare.
I wish Bobby were here.
He’s been gone less than a week and I can’t believe how much I miss him. Thanks a lot, Chrissie, for ruining my life. But then, Mom is beyond comprehension of late. First she takes away the Tahoe trip, then my keys, grounding me from my car—thank you, Alan, for whatever you told her—and then she lets me go out with Zoe, but sets a curfew at 1 a.m., when I’ve never had a curfew before.
Way to go, Chrissie, if your goal is totally confusing parenting. I’m surprised she didn’t shove a family condom at me before I left.
Two weeks apart from Bobby is going to be torture.
The interior of the club is a crush of bodies. We are let into the upstairs lounge, the private section above the dance floor, and find two vacant spots on a dark red leather sofa against the glass viewing wall.
Zoe drops down beside me. “I love being up here. We can watch everything, and have the guys drool and not be able to get to us.”
The way she says that makes me laugh for the first time tonight. “You do look amazing.”
She beams. “Yep. I do.” Her gaze shifts to the waiter closing in on us. “And the serving guys here are freaking hot. What do you want to drink?”
My brow crinkles. “I don’t want to drink tonight. It’s no fun to drink when I’m not with Bobby.”
She wraps her arm around me and gives me a shake. “Come on, Kaley. I’m the DD and you need to lighten up.”
I order an appletini.
An hour later, I’m on my third, we’ve been laughing nonstop and done more than our share of dancing, though I’ve only danced with Zoe because it didn’t feel right to dance with a guy other than Bobby. Not that we haven’t had guys prowling after us and they definitely watch when we throw shapes on the floor, but we’ve been in our own private zone and it’s been fun just whooping it up with Zoe.
I smile at her over the rim of my glass. “Thank you for being such a good friend.” I crinkle my nose. “You were right. I needed to go out and have fun. I’ve just been so damn down lately.”
Her pretty face clouds with understanding. “Are you feeling better?”
I make a slight pout. “Not really.”
“Well, that’s because your glass is empty,” says a deep male voice and I turn in time to see a guy drop down on the sofa beside Zoe.
She arches a brow. “Excuse me. Did I say you could sit there?”
I stifle a laugh, but not a smile. It’s amazing how much more confident she is lately.
The guy drapes his arm across the back of the couch until his fingers are nearly touching my bare shoulder. “Beautiful girls shouldn’t be alone.”
Zoe tilts her head, staring at me, and we both roll our eyes.
He leans around her and points at my empty glass. “Let me order you another one. I’m Lucky, by the way.”
“Lucky?” Zoe smirks.
He shifts his gaze to me. “Lucky Richter.”
He says that as if his name should mean something, but it doesn’t to Zoe—and she’s more plugged in to the Hollywood scene than I am—and it means even less to me.
“I’m with the band,” he says in a way that conveys he realizes his name means nothing to us. He fixes his eyes on me. “I’d really like to dance with you.”
“I don’t want to dance,” I say coolly.
“Oh, you want to dance with me.”
Oh crap.
“I’m looking for a girl for a video,” he says slickly. “A music video. I think you’d be perfect, but I want to see you dance first.”
Persistent and trying to impress me. Band comment—nope, that one didn’t strike pay dirt with us the way he thought it would. Name drop—well that was a bust. Artfully cultivated pickup stare—not bad, but not interested. Music video—just plain lame.
I wonder if girls fall for any of that.
“I don’t want to dance. I don’t want to be in a video,” I say firmly.
“You’d make piles of money,” he presses. “In six months, you could be the hottest video girl in LA.”
“Really? Six months?” I say that as if I’m impressed. “Crap, and here I thought doing the college thing was smart. That takes four years.”
His eyes flash briefly before he tucks his annoyance behind a wolfish leer. “Don’t mock me. I make things happen.”