“Cause offense.” Doc rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
I keep staring at the spot where the bird hit the window. It shouldn’t have been so loud. It doesn’t make sense.
I notice Eli isn’t laughing either. He’s silently watching the glass like I am, his face drawn. “That,” he says softly, “Is a bad omen.”
A ripple goes across my scalp, lifting my hair, making me feel every strand. “It is.”
He turns to me, brow furrowed. “You agree with me?”
“Of course! It’s almost dark. I’ve never even seen a blackbird out this late before.”
Eli’s hand closes over my own. “I think that—”
“January Whitehall?”
We turn. A woman with a silver clipboard is smiling maniacally down at me.
“Miss Whitehall, you need to get ready for your performance.Now.”
I look to Eli. He slides his hand from mine. “Go,bella. Good luck.”
“Yeah, rock out,” Doc says, raising his glass to me. Adriano and Bobby follow suit and I try to smile but my insides feel like they’re melting. I follow the clipboard woman around the tables and out of the ballroom.
“Nervous?” The woman asks, leading me down a huge hallway.
“A little. There are a lot of people here.”
“Almost fifteen hundred,” she says with satisfaction. “Now, the stage is still being organized, so I have to put you in a holding place. Wait for me in there.”
She points to a set of double doors, guarded by men in black suits with AK-47s in their arms.
“Do I…need a pass or something?” I squeak.
The woman rolls her eyes, grabs my elbow, and practically drags me to the bodyguards. “Brett, Colin, let her in.”
“Of course, Miss Williams.”
“Right away.”
The guys pull open the doors and I’m let inside. I thought the room would be tiny and I thought I’d be alone. I’m wrong on both counts. It’s huge and full of people. Bridesmaids catching champagne in glasses from a sparkling fountain, old guys smoking cigars, young guys vaping, people studying sheets of paper clearly rehearsing speeches. I must be in some kind of wedding green room. Althoughgreenisn’t the right word. Everything is blue. There are fake blue snowflakes strung across the ceilIng, blue-striped silk couches and blue rugs, and huge ice sculptures of women everywhere. I guess it’s to go with the winter wonderland theme, but it feels more like a Frozen tribute party. I circle around trying to figure out what’s going on, not wanting to wander too far from the doors in case Miss Williams returns right away.
“Champagne?” A waitress asks.
I smile and shake my head. I kind of wish everyone would stop offering me drinks. I feel so rude turning them down.
I half-hide behind an ice sculpture of a lady Viking and realize I left my phone—my whole bag—on my chair with the boys. Hopefully, they look after it, although I doubt anyone at this party needs to steal anything. From my hiding space, I can see an actress from a CW Zombie show talking to Chloe Fantana. I sang her songPassionateall the time when I was little. God knows why Mr. Bianchi didn’t ask her to perform instead of me tonight. I realize I’m clenching my teeth and deliberately loosen my jaw.
I just have to get through this song. After I’m done, I’ll pretend to be sick, pretend to be dying, anything, to get out of this strange hotel full of creepy birds and mobsters.
“Excuse me, miss, this isn’t an all-access area.”
“Iknow. That’s why I want to goin.”
I glance at the roped-off entrance. One of the black-suited bouncers is blocking a girl in a red dress.
My stomach hits the floor. It’s Mr. Parker’s fiancée.
“I’m a princess,” she says, her voice getting louder and louder. “I was told by my fiancé, Zachery Parker, that I wasmore than welcome here. Are you saying I’m not?”
