Shit.
Jem wanted to turn around. If his dad didn’t see him, he couldn’t say anything cruel.
Unfortunately, his reflexes were too slow. His father saw him; he saw Jem recognize him in return. Now he couldn’t run away without feeling like a coward.
Fantastic.
“James.” His father nodded cordially. “That’s an interesting jacket.”
Jem bristled. His father had never had any issue calling him Jembeforehis affair with Jem’s mother came to light. But he wasn’t going to make a scene at Andrew’s wedding. He could be just as aloof. Jem handled kindergarteners. Meaningless small talk? Please—that was child’s play. “You should see my shoe collection.”
From his father’s slightly constipated expression, he didn’t know what to make of that. After a moment he recovered with, “You seem to be doing well for yourself despite your own best efforts.”
Wow. So not small talk, then. Fine. Jem could do that too. At least he could spare River—and himself—the bullshit his father would spew at the two of them together. “Do you have to be this much of a douchebag, or do you do it because you enjoy it?”
Jem’s father’s face went as purple as if Jem had thrown his wine in his face. From behind him, Jem heard a stifled laugh.
Then, mercifully, Andrew cut between them. He gave Jem a passing wink before addressing his father. “Dad, there you are.” He took the glasses of wine, so his father had no choice but to follow him. “Mr. van Houten’s been looking for you. Something about setting up an annual tournament?”
After that, Jem barely saw his father for the rest of the night. He didn’t know if Andrew was running interference or if he’d just chased the man off.
Andrew had seated Jem at a small round table with himself, Dana, and Margaret. When Andrew and Dana were making the rounds thanking their guests for coming, Jem had the room to miss River and was considering downing a glass of champagne about it, but before he could, Margaret took a long look around the room and shook her head. “Imagine paying five thousand dollars for a little black dress no one’s going to see the label of.”
Maybe he could have a little fun after all. He leaned forward. “I knew someone once who’d go around with the tag sticking up in the back on purpose, so that someone would notice and read it when she asked them to tuck it in.”
Margaret laughed with her whole body and spent the remainder of dinner trading fashion commentary with Jem.
“God, I should be recording this,” Jem said a few minutes later, dabbing tears of laughter from his eyes. “My boyfriend would get a kick out of it.”
“Yeah?” She dimpled at him. “He a fashion snob too?”
“Nah, he just likes when I’m bitchy.”
Margaret gave her loud, sharp laugh again. “Oh my God, he sounds like a keeper. Does he have a brother? Sister? Uncle? Hell, is his mom single?”
Jem had had just enough hundred-dollar champagne to think asking would be funny, so he said, “I dunno, I’ll find out.”
And then he remembered he’d told River he was home in California, catching up on the sleep he’d missed while writing report cards.
That was stupid. Why did he do that? Just because he was afraid of what his father and his father’s shitty rich friends wouldthink or say? They were the kind of people who had sugar babies and treated them like dirt. Theyshouldsee River parading him around with stars in his eyes and spoiling him like a pampered lapdog.
Before he could beat himself up too much, Margaret touched his wrist and indicated one of the guests.
“Jesus Christ,” Jem said in disbelief. “Did someone tell her it was a costume party? Is she supposed to be a pair of curtains? That’s the only reason to have that many tassels—”
Somehow that led to Margaret taking video of Jem verbally eviscerating the night’s worst choices, though mostly this consisted of picking out the really pricey designer labels and making fun of how much money the wearers had spent to look the exact same as the people who’d spent a fraction.
Jem did a whole tight five on his dad’s wife’s hair, though. “If she gets any closer to God, Saint Peter’s going to be out of a job.”
By this time Dana and Andrew had returned, and Dana laughed so hard Andrew checked his pockets for her inhaler.
The hangover the next morning was less funny.
Jem woke up naked, with a mouth like sandpaper and a headache like Eric had moved his drumkit into his skull.
He had just enough spare brain cells to be thankful that he’d taken Colton’s bedroom instead of the pull-out couch, and to roll out of bed and pull on a T-shirt and boxers, before he lurched pathetically toward the kitchen in search of water, coffee, and food, not necessarily in that order.
Jem’s mom had never been a churchgoer—she was a single mom and church ladies were still notoriously judgmental—and it seemed like Paul wasn’t either, because the family was in no hurry to get breakfast on the table. Mom was hulling strawberries while Paul made homemade waffles; Penny andColton were sitting in their pajamas at the table, each with a phone in hand, which reminded Jem he’d left his own on the kitchen counter last night after he chugged two glasses of water. He made pathetic eyes at it, but it didn’t get up and make its way into his hands, so he slouched around Paul, grabbed it, and then collapsed back at the table.
