Baya and Roxy settle down—actually they stop in their tracks, and now the three of them are staring at the house with their faces as white as ghosts.
“What?” I go to spin around, and Roxy catches me, preventing me from doing so. “I’m going to find out, so you might as well let me see.”
God, what if Ryder is planning some spectacular proposal, and he’s about to bring out the ring on a silver platter with fireworks and a marching band and an entire cheerleading squad. Wait—nix the cheerleaders. The only one allowed to be remotely cute and sexy in the engagement processional is me. My fantasy. My rules.
Roxy loosens her grasp and shoots a dirty look behind me.
I turn to find Ryder barreling in this direction, and practically tackle him, ready to say yes, when I spot bright red lipstick smeared over his mouth. Crap. It looks like someone beat me to the kissing portion of my daydream.
I run my finger through the kiss-print and hold it up for him to see. “I think pink is more your color. What’s this about?”
“Meg.” He grunts her name out like a curse as he wipes his mouth down with the back of his hand.
“You care to explain?” My heart thumps unnaturally, and I feel sick to my stomach. Good thing I skipped dinner, or we’d be staring at my regurgitated meal all over Ryder’s patent leather shoes.
“I wish I could.” He shakes his head. “One minute I’m scooping out the stroganoff, and the next thing I know, she’s trying to play tonsil hockey.”
“Tonsil hockey?” I suck in a never-ending breath. “Those aremyfucking tonsils.” I pivot on my heels and make a dash for the house. I traverse bodies and a bevy of annoying faux gifts that Rue has stacked around the mansion to give it that we-believe-in-holiday-excess appeal. Honest to God, the way that woman spends money you’d think it were her sole responsibility to kick-start the economy. And who the hell says,Look at you!And doesn’t follow it up with something nice?
My anger ping pongs from her to Meg, and now I’m not sure either one is safe. God only knows what will happen to the one I see first.
There she is.
Meg.
She’s huddled in the arms of some gold lame wearing socialite, and I’ll be damned if it’s not Rue herself.
“Well, look who’s here?” I force a smile to expand and retract.
Meg cowers in Rue’s arms with her lipstick smeared around her mouth like a clown. God, she evenlooksmental. She probably is, but I won’t let that stop me from punching her in the throat. I’m not above going street on her, right here, in front of all of Rue’s high society fake friends.
Meg sneers while nestled in Rue’s gorilla-like embrace.
Anger courses through me like rocket fuel. My adrenaline percolates like a pot with the lid ready to dance right off.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I give a hard shove into her chest, and Ryder comes up from behind and pulls me back. “No.” I push him away as Roxy pops up beside him. Baya and Bryson wisely stand to the side. “I get to say to my piece.” I yank Meg in by her Peter Pan collar. And who the hell wears a Peter Pan collar? I swear the last time I saw one was in a picture of my mother while I was still swimming in her belly. “Nineteen ninety-one called, and it wants its maternity wear back.”
“What?” Both she and Rue look stunned and confused.
“Okay, that was sort of ridiculous,” Roxy says, trying to coax me away by snatching at my elbow.
“I’ll think of something better at three in the morning”—I lean into Meg—“while I’m lying in Ryder’sarms.”
“Don’t waste your time with her.” Ryder tries to pluck me back. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No.” Rue holds up a finger. “By all means say your piece, Laney. I’d hate for you to run off for another year and create an even bigger rift between my son and I.” She glowers into me because we both know she’d like nothing more than for me to disappear for a lifetime.
“Mom,” Ryder says the reprimand sweet enough, but it’s too late. She’s already opened the Pandora’s box of yesteryear, and all of the ugly truths are flying around us, tangling in our hair like bats.
“Ryder and I are together again.” I practically spit the words into Meg’s snooty uptight, pinched nose, thin lipped, pale as plaster face. “Let me outline this for you. That means you may never plant your greasy red lips on him again.And, if you even so much as wink at him, I’ll plant my fist in your jaw.” I step in until we’re nose to nose. “You have nice teeth, Meg. Don’t go risking years of orthodontia in order to lure my boyfriend into your bed because it ain’t happening bitch.”
A loud collective gasp circles the room, and I’m only slightly horrified to see an entire herd of elderly people gathered around for the show, but walkers and wheelchairs be damned because this is one show that’s about to go on.
Rue clears her throat. “Ryder if you would, please remove your friend from the premises.” She speeds the words from the side of her lips. “She’s causing a scene.”
“I’ll leave once I get an apology.” I glare into Meg as she cowers behind Ryder’s mother like she’s some rabid girlfriend protection shield. Little does she know I’ll take the both of them down if I have to, and every bit of me is committed to the effort.
“Apologize?” Rue snorts. “How about you apologize to my guests for ruining their night—to the geriatric foundation whose only outing this month was this very gathering. Please take your incredibly bad manners and leave. This is aChristmasparty, Laney, not one of your mother’s bar brawls.”
