“It’s prom,” Blake said with a shrug. “I don’t care how old we are, there are things that you just have to do. You have to get a cool suit and buy your girl a corsage.” Blake took a step back to show her his blazing orange Corvette parked outside. “You also have to pick your girl up in a hot sports car.”
Ivy’s eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the car. She’d only seen Blake going around in his truck, but she wasn’t surprised to find he had a Corvette, too. He’d had posters of them on his walls in school. He drove around an old Mustang in high school, but he’d aspired to one day getting his dream car. A couple of years in the NFL made that possible.
“Wow. Auburn orange.”
“Of course,” Blake said, beaming with vehicular pride. “My truck is blue, so my ’Vette had to be orange.”
“Not only am I going with the hottest guy, I’m showing up in the coolest car. That’s got to make up for looking like a fool today.” Ivy pulled the door to the cabin closed behind her and walked with Blake to his car. He opened the door for her to get in and she sank into the plush camel-colored leather seats.
Blake got in and the engine roared to life. They flew down the highway back to town and before she knew it, they were pulling into the high school parking lot. He pulled up to the curb of the front entrance. “Here, I’ll drop you off, then go park. Those heels are pretty high and you need to be able to dance all night.”
Ivy laughed as he opened her door and helped her out. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The Stuart Weitzman navy satin slingbacks weren’t her highest heels, but they weren’t her most comfortable ones, either. They were super cute with Swarovski crystals on the heel, and they went with her dress. That was more important than comfort.
Blake pulled away and Ivy looked around. “Oh my goodness,” she said as she spied the uniformed police officer at the door of the school. “Is that you, Simon?”
The young man straightened up and gave Ivy his most stern-looking face. “That’s Officer Chamberlain to you, ma’am.”
Ivy smiled. “Since when do they let fifteen-year-olds into the police force?”
“It’s been a long time since I was fifteen, Ivy.” The young Chamberlain smiled, reminding her so much of Blake at that age. Blake had a larger build from playing football, but the charming smile and blue Chamberlain eyes were just the same. “I’m going to be twenty-two come January.”
“That’s impossible,” Ivy said with a teasing tone. “You couldn’t even get a driver’s permit the last time I saw you.”
“That means you need to come visit more often!”
“You’re right, I do. Pardon me, Officer Chamberlain. Is it a crime to hug a man of the law? I’m unarmed.”
“Not at all, ma’am.”
Ivy leaned in to give Blake’s youngest brother a big hug. He’d gotten so big since she saw him last. He had always been her favorite of Blake’s siblings. Blake was the oldest, the football star and town golden boy. Next were the twins, Mitchell and Madelyn. They’d been in the same grade with Ivy. Mitchell was always very serious and studious, never really interested in chatting when Ivy came over. Blake had told her that he was away at med school. His twin, Maddie, had always been a brat, and she’d joined Lydia in making life difficult for Ivy at Rosewood High. Grant was girl crazy. Hazel was preoccupied with her dolls and books. Simon was the sweetheart who looked up to his big brother Blake like an idol.
“You’re looking good, Simon. Are you on duty all night, or can I have a dance later?”
A faint blush rose to his cheeks. “I’m on duty until two thirty. I’ll have to take a rain check on that dance.”
Blake came up behind Ivy and gave his brother a hard clap on the shoulder. “Whatcha think of my date, bro? Pretty hot, huh?”
Simon continued to blush as he looked Ivy over. It made her wonder if perhaps he’d had a little crush on her as a boy and she never noticed.
“She looks even hotter than she does on television.”
“You’re so sweet,” Ivy said. Several couples went past them into the dance. “We’d better get inside before Gloria starts to panic. Have a good night, Officer Chamberlain.”
Blake ushered her into the dance with a palm on her lower back. Ivy waited while he turned over their tickets and told the woman at registration to let Gloria and Otto know they were both there.
Inside, they passed through a cascade of metallic streamers and into the high school cafeteria. Ivy was surprised to see how much the committee had transformed the space. The lights were dimmed, with multicolored disco lights shining down from overhead. There were crepe paper streamers all over the place, and there was even an area for prom photos with a balloon arch framing the shot.
A stage was set up with another metallic curtain of streamers behind it to block the windows where students normally ordered food. To one side was the DJ, complete with an unfortunate Flock of Seagulls–style hairdo. He was currently playing Prince’s “Little Red Corvette,” which seemed appropriate given their mode of transportation for the night.
Ivy realized that tacky clothes aside, she should be happy this was an eighties-themed dance. If he stuck to the music of that era, there wouldn’t be any unfortunate incidents with Ivy’s infamous hit. There was a good crowd of people there, although no one was dancing yet. It was still too early. Most folks were just milling around and chatting.
On the opposite side of the stage from the DJ were the thrones for the prom king and queen, the same as she remembered from high school.
Blake led Ivy over to a table at the edge of the room where Grant was already seated with his date, a woman Ivy didn’t recognize. Blake had been right about his tuxedo. It was awful. It had black pants and a rust-colored jacket with black buttons and piping along the lapel and pockets. The ivory shirt underneath had ruffles down the center with matching rust thread on the edges.
Ivy bit her lip trying not to laugh. She got the chance to turn away when Blake leaned down to speak to her over Prince’s cries blaring from the speakers.
“Do you want some punch?”
“Sure,” she said. “I’m going to walk around a little bit.”
“I’ll find you.” Blake turned and disappeared across the room to the refreshments table.
Ivy waved at Grant and his anonymous girl before turning and taking a stroll around the edge of the room. She was too nervous about tonight to sit idly. Gloria had assured her that none of the paps would be allowed into the dance—that was probably why Simon was outside—but that didn’t make her feel much better. They’d find their way in, one way or another.
She waved at people, weaving around tables and decorations. She saw Pepper and Brian getting their picture taken. Pepper was right. He’d gone from nerd to geek chic, quite the handsome guy these days.
“I just heard about all the excitement this morning, bless your heart. They said you nearly mowed down several small children and traumatized the parade marshals.”
Ivy tensed up and closed her eyes when she heard the woman’s voice from behind her. Why was Lydia always sneaking up behind her? Taking a deep breath, Ivy turned to face her.
Lydia had on a tight, short, sequined black dress with a peplum that was hot pink on the underside. There was a big pink bow at her hip that would have made her look wide if she wasn’t so petite to begin with. Her hair was teased and sprayed into submission, making a golden halo around her head like a lion’s mane. She looked just like she’d strolled off the set of an eighties music video.
“Lydia. I’m sorry you missed it, but honestly, you wouldn’t have enjoyed yourself very much. We both know how much you hate it when I’m the center of attention instead of you. I think you’re the winner tonight, though. I see you got C. C. DeVille’s stylist to do your hair. No one will give me a second glance with that train wreck ingrained in their minds.”
Lydia crossed her arms over her c
hest, pushing her breasts up so high they nearly spilled out of her sweetheart neckline. “I heard you came here tonight with Blake,” she said, pointedly ignoring the insult.
Normally, Ivy wouldn’t make a big deal about coming with Blake, but if he was right and it would make Lydia miserable, she was all for it. “I did. He asked me at the fair.” Ivy held up her wrist to showcase her corsage. “He even bought me the same corsage he got me in high school. Isn’t that sweet?”
Lydia’s lips tightened into a thin pink line. She didn’t seem impressed. She seemed like she was ready to throw something. Perhaps Ivy had pushed her too far. “Why is it that every time I’m close to getting something I want, you swoop in and take it? Everything that should’ve been mine went to you instead. You’re not even staying in Rosewood, but you couldn’t stand for me and Blake to be happy together. You had to mess everything up.”
“Yes, Lydia, that was exactly my plan when I came,” Ivy said, rolling her eyes. “You think I spent all my time scheming on how to take everything you wanted, but you give yourself too large a role in my mind. If you hadn’t spent all your time trying to make me miserable, I could’ve forgotten all about you.”
“Yeah, right. We both know you were jealous of me because you weren’t good enough for him then, and you aren’t good enough for him now.”
“Excuse me?” Ivy exclaimed. Was she really starting this here?
“You heard me. It doesn’t matter how many albums you record or how much money you make, because you’ll always be just a little white trash around the edges, Thrift Shop.”
“Why? Because I didn’t grow up spoiled and rich? Because my daddy couldn’t pay for debutante training and white-gown cotillions? ’Cause I’m not a member of the Junior League? Please. I never wanted to be like that. I never wanted to be like you. And that was fine with me because Blake didn’t want you; he wanted me. And he still does.”
“Aww, Ivy. Did you think that just because Blake slept with you that he thought you were good enough for him? Me and everyone else in town could’ve told you he never would’ve married you. You don’t deserve the Chamberlain name and everyone knows it, including him.”
Ivy wished she had one of her Grammys here so she could hit Lydia upside the head with it. Ivy Hudson. In the cafeteria. With a Grammy.
“Let’s face it, Blake didn’t want you then and he doesn’t really want you now. He wouldn’t have screwed around with that cheerleader if he had been dating me. I know how to keep a man happy.”
Ivy felt her blood pressure start to climb. She was right. He couldn’t have slept with that cheerleader because Lydia wouldn’t have let him out of her sight. “But he wasn’t dating you. Even despite your best bitchy efforts to steal him away from me. And he never did date you.”
“Oh, Ivy,” Lydia’s face drew into a sympathetic frown. “Haven’t you heard? I have dated Blake. Wait . . . let me rephrase. I am dating Blake. As in, currently.”
“You don’t say.” Ivy wasn’t about to let rat-faced Whittaker ruin her night the same way she ruined her high school years. “Well then, why was he at the fair with me? Kissing me? Coming to the dance with me?”
“You seem so worldly and yet you’re so naïve, Ivy. You’re nothing but a hot piece of ass he’s courting for the sake of the fund-raiser. Miss Adelia, or Granny, as she likes me to call her, put him up to it. If he’s seen with you and starts a”—Lydia made air quotes—“ ‘relationship’ with you, we’ll get a lot of press and sell more tickets. So he can get his stadium rebuilt and take the team to the championships. And then, once you flit on back to La-La Land, he’ll be back with me, where he’s always belonged.”
Ivy had faced harsh critics, endured publicly scathing critiques of everything from her voice to her clothes to her body, and shut down abrasive talk show hosts. She was always quick with the perfect response. And yet, when faced with the girl who made her school years a living hell, she was stunned speechless and fifteen again.
“You saw us kissing the other day, Ivy. What did you think that was about? What line did he feed you to convince you it was nothing, hmm?”
“He said you kissed him,” she said, finding her voice. “He said that you’re pathetic, constantly sniffing around. He said he’s never wanted you and he never will.”
“Blake is good,” Lydia noted with a smile. “Did it ever occur to you that he had to tell you all that so his grandmother didn’t find out he screwed up? He’s not supposed to be seen with me while you’re here, but he just couldn’t stay away.”
Ivy turned to look for Blake in the crowd. She found him talking to a woman.
“He’s such a flirt,” Lydia chided. “And so virile. He made his way through half the women in town before I finally tamed him for good. It takes everything I’ve got to keep him satisfied and in my bed every night. It’s no wonder you couldn’t keep him.”
Ivy gritted her teeth, praying for self-control to keep her from snatching a fistful of hair from Lydia’s head. She couldn’t do it. Kevin would be very disappointed if she caused another scene. There wasn’t supposed to be press here, but somehow, she knew, the picture would get out.
“Enjoy your little moment while it lasts, but remember . . .” Lydia leaned in and narrowed her beady little eyes. “In a week, you go home and he’s mine again.”
Lydia spun on her heel and stomped away, nearly colliding with Blake in the process. She stopped only a moment to smile sweetly at him before making a hasty retreat to the other side of the cafeteria.
It was just as well. Cameras be damned, Ivy was on the verge of popping Lydia in the face. Blake wasn’t using her at his grandmother’s demand. Miss Adelia had made it perfectly clear how she felt about the interference of Whittaker girls. He wouldn’t go to these lengths just to sell tickets while he secretly dated Lydia. He was a miserable flirt, he always had been, but that didn’t mean he followed through.
Right?
Suddenly, Ivy wasn’t so sure. It was just like Lydia to plant seeds of doubt in her mind. Blake had been able to explain away her every concern, but was she just falling for his smooth-talking charm? She’d never thought Blake would cheat on her the first time, but she had been wrong. If Lydia was telling the truth now, this time it was much, much worse.
This time Ivy was the other woman and didn’t even know it.
Blake had to wait longer for punch than he’d hoped. The elderly office assistant was making up the cups like she did for the actual students without seeming to realize some of these people were in their forties and could do it themselves.
When he finally got two cups and turned around, he didn’t make it far. Person after person would greet him and start a conversation. He couldn’t get more than a few feet without being stopped again. Then he looked up and spotted Lydia talking to Ivy. Then he couldn’t move through the crowd fast enough.
He had deliberately not told Ivy, or anyone else, about Lydia’s part in the morning’s debacle. He didn’t want Ivy worrying about something like that, and keeping it quiet gave him something to pressure Lydia with later if she gave them any trouble.
He didn’t expect trouble to arrive the same day. As he got closer, Lydia turned and nearly ran into him. She looked at him with a saccharine sweetness he knew meant she was up to no good. He’d threatened her this morning. She either didn’t care what he did or she was going to find a way to get what she wanted without “crossing the line,” as he’d put it. Either way he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her.
He had a hard time choking back his animosity as he approached Ivy. One look at her made all thoughts of Lydia vanish, however. Ivy was red-faced and her gaze was stony and focused on him, not on Lydia. What had Lydia said to make Ivy mad at him? “Are you okay? What did she say to you?” he said sharply.
Ivy frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong, Blake? Worried I’ll find out that you two are s
ecretly together and just using me for publicity? That the whole town is just using me for publicity?”
A burst of nervous laughter escaped from Blake’s lips before he could stop it. Secretly together? Publicity? What the hell had Lydia said to convince Ivy of that? “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I was,” Ivy said, her bottom lip trembling as she spoke. “Did you really think it would be okay to publicly be seen with me and privately date her? That isn’t fair to anyone, especially me. I thought something . . .” Her voice trailed off as she swallowed hard. “I thought something was really happening between us again.”
The smile slipped from Blake’s face. He set the punch aside and gripped Ivy’s upper arms with both hands, holding firm so she couldn’t pull away. “Lydia is just jealous and messing with your head. She and I are not dating.”
“She said that you were and sounded pretty convincing.” She shook her head sadly.
“Were,” he repeated, then let his hands drop to his sides with a sigh. “This is so embarrassing.” Blake looked over his shoulder at the crowd behind them. The number of people had easily doubled, with the dance finally getting into full swing. There was a line for getting pictures taken and a few couples were already out on the dance floor.
“I did date her, okay? We went out a couple of times. It was stupid of me, but I thought if we dated and she didn’t have a good time, she’d finally leave me alone.”
Ivy slowly shook her head, but he wasn’t sure if it was due to disbelief in his story or at how stupid he was.
“It was a huge mistake. I don’t think there’s anything I can do to turn her off. I tried, believe me. We kissed once and it was awful. I never slept with her. I wasn’t interested at all. I broke it off with her a few weeks ago, before I even knew you were coming back to town. You know how Lydia is. She’s just jealous and starting trouble, as usual.”
The expression on Ivy’s face was anything but convinced. “Blake, I—”
Facing the Music Page 17
