“She’s the one who’s going to get us into this club tonight,” I say softly under my breath.
I giggle as I sashay forward toward the bouncers, who are sitting there, looking mean and bored. Not exactly the most approachable, but I will try my best. Who could be bored with three hotties flirting with them?
“Just play along with whatever I say,” I whisper back to my friends before I start my offensive with the burly bouncers.
I pull my skirt up a little bit, just in case the bouncers want to see a little more leg. It’s time to let my long legs work for me in some way other than swimming.
“Why, hello there, handsome.” I eye the more friendly of the bouncers and beam at him.
He’s got a shaved head and bright blue eyes. He doesn’t even smile as I offer him a little wave. Rude.
“How are you this wonderful evening?” I flutter my eyelashes at him.
“License, please,” he snaps, holding his hand out, like he doesn’t see the effort I spent on my mascara and eyeliner.
I hold in a sigh. Apparently, he’s immune to my flirtations.
“Here you go.” I hand him my ID.
It readsAgnes Smith of Queens, New York, and it says I’m thirty-eight.
I hold my breath as he gives it a cursory glance and then looks over at me. I know from the expression on his face that he knows I’m not Agnes and that I’m not thirty-eight. That’s the last time I buy fake IDs from Slippery Sam, a junior in my English class. I need to act quickly or the night will be over before it’s even begun.
“My best friends and I are here for Mona Hilton’s bachelorette party.” I push my shoulders back and tilt my head high.
A show I watched once about the FBI stated that people who were lying normally withdrew into themselves, avoided eye contact, and lacked confidence—unless they were sociopaths. I have to be the exact opposite of a liar. I have to be so truthful that my middle name isveritas.
“We’re her best friends from college,” I lie smoothly. “Sorority sisters, in fact. We all pledged … Alpha Beta Kappa Gamma Delta.” I lick my lips nervously.
Why didn’t I look up the actual names of sororities? I can only hope this man believes me.
“She just texted me,” I say, holding up my phone. “She’s waiting on us.”Please don’t ask to see the texts. God, please, please don’t let him ask to see the texts.
I look back at Willow and Brielle, who are standing there with their mouths open. They would never receive the Oscar for Best Actress. They are so obviously oblivious. I’ll have to give them some acting classes or something.
“My best friend, Roxanne, over there”—I point to Brielle. Seems smarter not to use real names—“she’s an influencer on TikTok. I’m sure you’ve heard of her, Roxanne the Bloann,” I say quickly forgetting for a moment that that wasn’t the name on her ID. “She has ten million followers, who are all waiting tosee what Tropez Dali is like and if it’s worth the hype. And Mona Hilton is waiting for us so she can go live with us.”
Don’t ask to see my social media, please.The man would laugh us down the street if he saw my 135 followers.
The man shrugs, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “This shit is not worth it,” he mutters as he hands me back my ID and opens the door for us. “The Mona Hilton party is on the third floor in the VIP section. Give the hostess outside the door your names. She’ll check you off the guest list and let you up.”
“Perfect. Thank you.” I blow him a kiss. “You have a good evening, smexy.”
High on adrenaline, I stride into the bar and turn to see a gobsmacked Willow and Brielle following behind me. “Told you I had it in the bag,” I say to my friends as we stand there and take in our surroundings.
It’s like we’ve entered a foreign land of loud music, flickering lights, and smoky haze.
“Who the hell is Mona Hilton?” Brielle whispers loudly. “Does she really think I’m an influencer?” She sounds slightly panicked.
Brielle is the most nervous of the three of us. She’s always worried she’s going to get into trouble, likely ’cause her dad is a security guard at a factory and super overprotective. I was shocked when he allowed her to come on this “school trip,” though I’m sure if he knew where she was right now, he’d drive down and take her home right away.
“We don’t know Mona Hilton,” I say, giving her a look. “Keep your voice down.”
“You don’t? What’s going on?”
“Oh, don’t worry so much, Brielle. We’re not actually going to her party. She was just somebody I figured was worth knowing to get us in.” I grab my friends’ hands. “She just had a post that I saw on Instagram.” I grin at them. “I figured if I said we werewith her party and we were influencers, we’d have a better shot at getting entry. Now, here we are; we’re in. Shall we do some shots?”
“Should we?” Willow looks nervous, but I just laugh at her apprehension. “We’re underage and broke.”
