Party Games

by Whitney Lyles

  Discussing all these details piqued Dakota’s curiosity about Sara’s job, and she suddenly had all kinds of questions. “How much would it cost to have someone like J.Lo at my party?”

  Sara cleared her throat and prepared to recite the lines her mother had taught her for these kinds of questions. “Well, I know she recently did a birthday party a couple of years ago for more than a million dollars. It may have even been two million. I can’t remember. I can check for you. But I think it’s safe to assume that if you’re looking at anyone in J.Lo’s league, you should probably start at a million. The performers factor in the cost of travel and lodging. They have to fly all their band and crew out here.” To some, the conversation would sound surreal, but Sara was now used to being around people who had millions to blow on parties. Sara had worked on maybe a half dozen sweet sixteens, and most of them cost more than a yacht.

  Dakota looked pensive. “Hmmm…”

  She wondered how big of a budget Dakota had for her party but didn’t ask. Money was a subject her mom always handled. Sara assumed that money wasn’t an issue with this party. Dakota’s father was, after all, one of the most successful real estate developers in San Diego.

  Sara was a few sips into her coffee when the models arrived. One by one, they pushed through the double doors of Starbucks. Sara didn’t know what was more interesting—watching the guys or watching all the heads in Starbucks turn. Terrence, Pete, Jake, and Travis were by far the yummiest things the coffee shop currently offered.

  The girls took a few minutes to introduce themselves. Jake was probably Sara’s favorite. The most rugged of the group, he was tan and tall and had shaggy hair and a scruffy face. Not to mention he was funny. He had the summer off from studying marine biology at UCSD. Dakota pointed to him first. “You,” she said. Sara felt slightly uncomfortable with her tone. “You look very island castaway-ish.”

  He raised his eyebrows and then turned to Sara. “Is that a good thing?”

  Sara nodded and smiled apologetically. “I think so.”

  “You’re hired,” Dakota said.

  He smiled. “Great.” Then he turned back to Sara and whispered, “I guess.”

  She giggled.

  “Now you.” Dakota pointed to Pete. He was a model, and part-time football player for San Diego State University. Despite his manly background, he’d been shy. “I’m not so sure about you,” Dakota said.

  Sara felt herself shrinking in her seat. Dakota turned to her.

  “What do you think, Sara?”

  “Um…I think he’s great…I think they’re all great…I say go for it.” She felt herself turning red and kinda wished she’d stayed home. She didn’t like being put on the spot, and the whole interview process was starting to seem a little silly. All the guys were drop dead, so what more did Dakota need to know?

  Dakota studied Pete as if he were a blouse she’d pulled off a rack at Nordstrom. “I don’t think I like the way you part your hair.”

  Now Pete was the one turning red, and Sara felt so sorry for him. Just because he was a hot jock didn’t mean that he was made of stone. The guy had feelings. “I think his hair is wonderful.” She had to say something. “I think for sure you should hire him. By the way,” she lowered her voice as she looked at the guys. “None of this was my idea.”

  Dakota shook her head. “I don’t want him delivering my invitations with hair like that. You look like a nineteen fifties car salesman. See ya.” Dakota waved. If this was a reality show, Dakota would be the bitchy chick that everyone knew the producers kept around for ratings.

  Sara closed her eyes, and when she opened them, poor Pete was leaving the coffee shop. She felt like following him out the door but was afraid it would cause too much drama. This was her mother’s biggest client of the summer. The Londons were paying for Leah’s new kitchen.

  Terrence was next. Godlike, the guy resembled Lenny Kravitz in his younger days. Beautiful. Dakota made him stand up and turn around twice in the middle of the coffee shop. “Nice ass,” she said. “Okay. Hired.”

  Thank God.

  By the time she got to Travis, he looked frightened. Sara couldn’t remember what he’d looked like before his “I’m facing the Jigsaw Killer” face. Was he cute then? Blond hair, sea-green eyes, perfect body. What more did Dakota need?

  “Take off your shirt,” she said.

  Travis looked cautious. “In here?”

  “No. In Italy,” Dakota snapped. “Yes, of course in here.”

  “Uh…okay.”

  “I’m just the party planner,” Sara said, now really embarrassed. “Again, none of this is my idea.”

  Slowly, Travis stood. Sara felt heads turning in the coffee shop. It was like a striptease as he unbuttoned each and every button on the front of his shirt. Slowly, he pulled the shirt off and tossed it on the table between Dakota and him. It didn’t help that some kind of swanky techno music played.

  “Can you turn around please?” she asked.

  Sara noticed every female jaw within a ten-foot radius drop, and she made a conscious effort to close her own mouth. From the corner of her eye, she witnessed one woman spill coffee all over her thigh. The lady barely winced as she watched Travis.

  He was just circling back around to Dakota when a short, balding Starbucks employee with a lip ring tapped him on the shoulder. Even his fingers looked fat next to Travis. “Excuse me,” the little man said. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m…um…auditioning?”

  “We’re interviewing models for a party,” Sara chimed in, feeling torn between scalding embarrassment and a burning desire to appear rational.

  “Well, this is totally inappropriate.” Mr. Stubby Starbucks Manager shook his head. “You have to wear a shirt and shoes in this establishment. You can’t just take your clothes off in here. What do you think this is? Thunder from Down Under? I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.”

  They were getting kicked out of Starbucks? By now everyone in the coffee shop was watching them. Sara had never been kicked out of anything in her life. She didn’t waste any time closing her notebook and collecting her backpack. She suddenly envied Pete for making a clean getaway.

  Jake and Terrence seemed glad to get out of there, and Dakota thought the whole thing was funny. She laughed the entire way out the door. Sara avoided making eye contact with anyone in the building and beelined straight for the sidewalk. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to set foot in another coffee shop again without having post traumatic embarrassment disorder.

  Once outside, Travis turned to Dakota. “So does this mean I didn’t get the job?” He was sincere.

  “Of course not! You’re hired.” Dakota patted him on the back.

  As Sara attempted to collect her wits, she gave the models the details for passing out the invitations, as well as her mother’s cell phone number and the business line to their house. Invitations were due to go out the following week. She said good-bye to everyone and made a mental note to avoid public settings with Dakota London for as long as she lived. The girl was psycho.

  Sara was still reeling with embarrassment adrenaline when her cell phone rang. Allie! Sara had uploaded Incubus for her best friend. They were Allie’s favorite band.

  “Finally! I’ve been dying to talk to you! You are not going to believe the night I had, but you first. I’m dying to hear about your date.”

  “It was perfect! It was so awesome, Sara.”

  “Really?” Sara gasped.

  “Yes.”

  “Did he kiss you?”

  She giggled. “Yes.”

  Sara couldn’t remember the last time she felt truly excited, and it wasn’t even her love life.

  “What are you doing right now?” Allie asked.

  Sara told her all about Dakota and the male models. “I just got kicked out of a coffee shop!”

  Allie thought it was funny.

  Sara told her how her mother had volunteered her for the meeting and Sara hadn’t had mu
ch say in the matter. Then her mom thought it would be a bright idea for Sara to take on more responsibilities for Dakota’s party. And her mom had given her the chance to back out only because she felt guilty about dating Gene.

  “What?” The shock in Allie’s voice was genuine. “Your mom is dating Gene? The florist with the red Miata?”

  “Yes, him.”

  “The one who promised to buy you a vanilla-bean candle the next time he was in Bath and Body Works?”

  “Yes, that’s my mom’s new boyfriend.”

  “I was discussing aromatherapy at length with him last week!” Allie shouted through the phone. “I thought he was gay!”

  “Well, now we know he’s not.”

  Allie paused. “Hey listen, it sounds like we have way too much to discuss over the phone. I’m coming to get you.”

  Four

  A sunset at the beach, a picnic basket full of Italian takeout food, and lots of kissing summed up Allie’s amazing evening. As Allie shared the story of her fairy-tale date in Joel’s Shoe Outlet, Sara savored every detail. Allie had even let her ask all the dumb questions that had been burning in Sara’s mind.

  “When he kissed you, did you feel nervous that you had bad breath?”

  Allie threw back her head and laughed.

  “What?” Sara asked. “It’s a legitimate concern.” No one else thought of these things? Sara could help arrange gourmet buffets and order ice sculptures, but when it came to romance, she felt so inexperienced.

  “I guess a little. But I had an Altoid right after I ate. He had one too. So we both tasted minty.”

  “Really?” Sara thought about minty.

  Allie nodded.

  “What else? Tell me more!”

  Allie chuckled again.

  “How did he kiss? Slow or fast?”

  “Slow.” The same faraway look that had visited Allie’s eyes several times throughout her story came back. “He was perfect.”

  Sometimes Sara was dying to meet the man of her dreams and make out until they had to come up for oxygen. It wasn’t like she didn’t have desires. It was just that there were so many opportunities for embarrassment. What if she went in to kiss a guy and hit his head? She wondered if she would ever have the courage to make it to first base—period.

  “So how did you guys leave it?” Sara scanned the racks in Joel’s.

  Allie smiled slyly. “He’s already called me twice today, and he’s coming to see me at work later.”

  “He called you twice? This morning?”

  Allie nodded. Like Dakota, Allie was long and willowy and naturally beautiful. However, Allie’s mother was Spanish. Allie had beautiful, soft olive skin and deep coffee-colored eyes. She hung out in faded Abercrombie jeans and tank tops. Flip-flops were her favorite choice in shoes, and she rarely wore makeup. Her thick, dark hair looked pretty even when it was falling out of a loose ponytail.

  “He’s so into you,” Sara said.

  “Check out these.” Allie held up a pair of bright orange boots with fur trim and moccasin-style laces going up the front. Both girls erupted in laughter.

  “Those are the kind of after-ski boots you need to buy if you’re worried about getting lost on the mountain,” Sara said. “A plane could spot those from anywhere on the planet.”

  After Allie had picked up Sara, they’d gone to the mall. Sara was supposed to be shopping for summer heels to wear to work. She needed something open toed, classy, and comfortable. So far she hadn’t found what she was looking for. Twenty million pairs of shoes neither one of them intended to buy were scattered around the floor.

  “So has he called you his girlfriend?” Sara asked, peeking into another box.

  Allie smiled, and Sara actually thought she saw a blush creep up her friend’s cheeks. “Yes.”

  “You have a boyfriend!” Sara jumped up and down in her bare feet. She was so happy for Allie. “What do your parents say?”

  “They like him.”

  Sara sighed. “I’ll be in college before I ever kiss anyone.”

  “No, you won’t. Don’t be ridiculous. I have a feeling something good is headed your way.”

  “You do?” Sara loved hearing this. Whenever Allie had a feeling, it was always right.

  “You could have a boyfriend the second you wanted one. A million guys would love to go out with you.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like Slick.” Allie always called Blake “Slick” because of his hairdo.

  They both giggled. “C’mon,” Sara said. “Please.”

  “You know I’m just kidding!”

  To some girls, Blake was probably a real catch. All money and muscles, he was a party boy with unlimited access to his father’s Visa card. But Allie and Sara had never taken him seriously.

  He was the kind of guy who’d devoted long hours to working out at the gym and ingesting gallons of protein shakes to build his huge biceps and chiseled chest. His teeth were so bleached they were brighter than Orion’s Belt. And Sara just knew he spray tanned. He always wore chains with large emblems around his neck, and he rolled up to every event in an Escalade his father had bought him last year when he’d turned sixteen. Besides, he was the son of the caterer her mother always hired.

  As Sara perused the aisles, she told Allie about Cute Guitar Guy. “For all I know, he already has a girlfriend though. You know how it is. All the good ones are always taken.”

  “Shane wasn’t.” Allie sounded optimistic. “Maybe Cute Guitar Guy is waiting for just the right girl to come along too. Find out his name so we can look for him on MySpace,” Allie suggested.

  Sara grabbed a box of thonged heels encrusted in fake sapphires and rubies. They were a size 7, much too big for Sara’s size 5 feet. “Look at these,” she said.

  Allie’s eyes lit up. The uglier the shoes, the more exciting. Allie slipped her feet into the heels. Her toes hung over the front. “How much would you pay me to wear these the next time I see Shane?”

  Sara laughed. “A lot more than the price tag on those bad boys. Those are Fifty Year Old Lady on a Cruise.” They’d made a point to name all the horrible shoes they tried on. “I dare you to wear those out.”

  Allie pretended to open her front door. “Hi, Shane. Like my new look? I hope I don’t scrape my toes on the sidewalk.”

  “With shoes like that your toes must curl over the edge.”

  “They’re such toe curlers!”

  Allie didn’t even have long toes, but they were bunched up at the edges of the shoes like they were struggling to hang on. Allie performed a little catwalk to the bad eighties soft hit that currently fizzed through the speakers in Joel’s.

  They peeled through the aisles, pulling off shoes like they were going through gifts at Christmas, anticipating what hilarious pair they’d find inside each box. “Oh my gosh! Look at these!” Sara pulled a pair of heeled slippers from the shelf. Large balls of feathery black fur covered the front, and satin trimmed the edges of the peep toes. She could see a vintage icon like Marilyn Monroe sauntering around her house in them at three in the afternoon, with a cigarette in a long holder and a silk robe. She slipped into them and did a little catwalk with an attitude. “These are Vintage Model with a Smoking Habit.”

  “They are! You totally need a long cigarette holder!” Allie said. “And your bruised forehead leaves so much to the imagination.”

  Sara had forgotten about her banged-up face. “What if I ran into someone from school right now?”

  Sara’s cell phone rang.

  “This is Sara.”

  “Allo, this is James Maddox here. I just spoke with Leah, and she said to give you a call. She told me that you had the booking calendar with you, and I’m looking to plan a party.” He spoke with a British accent and sounded like he was in his twenties or thirties.

  “Okay, well I can help you with that. What kind of event are you planning?”

  He explained that he managed a local band called On the Verge. Their first CD, Hurricane at the
Dollhouse, was about to be released by a small independent record label. The band was the next big thing, and he’d heard that Sara and her mother plan only the best events. He wanted a huge launch party, and all the band members’ parents were pitching in for the cost. Most important, the band really wanted Nick Bones, editor in chief of Rush—the hottest magazine in San Diego—to show up.

  “Do you know who he is?” James asked.

  “Yes.” She wanted to say, Of course! Her mother had actually planned several events that he’d attended. Everyone who knew anything about music had heard of Nick Bones. Aside from his responsibilities at Rush, he also hosted two hours of commercial-free music on the coolest alternative radio station every Tuesday night. His show featured everything that was new and worthy of purchasing. He had excellent taste, and Sara liked him because he played songs that wouldn’t normally be on the radio.

  “Do you think you can get him there?”

  Her head was spinning. Sara had heard of the band but had never actually seen them play or listened to their music. A CD release party? Nick Bones? Up-and-coming band On the Verge? She looked at Allie prancing around in a pair of fluorescent green stilettos and suppressed an urge to burst into laughter. Hooker from Hell was the first thing that came to mind. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll certainly do my best. I’m pretty confident I can get him to come. I think we can make this party a real success.” She pulled out her binder and turned to the section reserved for the calendar.

  “Okay, so when does the CD come out?”

  “July eighth,” he said.

  “This July eighth?”

  “Yes, three weeks from now.”

  They’d actually had a cancellation, so setting the date wasn’t the problem. The problem was that three weeks was hardly enough time to plan a rager. “That’s not much time,” she said.

  “Well, that’s why I’ve called you. Because I know I won’t be able to pull it off in three weeks, but with your help I think we could make it much better.”