Party Games

by Whitney Lyles

  Dakota answered on the first ring. “Hey.” Her voice sounded flat. Another very bad sign. The Dakota that Sara knew usually sounded wired and bubbly.

  “What’s up?” Sara asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Ian’s not calling me back. In fact, I don’t even know if he’s going to the party with me.”

  “He’s not?” Sara tried to sound surprised.

  “Well, the thing is, he said he would come to the party, but I never really asked him if he would come with me. I just thought I would save that until we got closer to the party. I didn’t want to scare him away. But I’ve already told all my friends that he’s going with me.”

  Sara actually felt kind of bad for her. She sounded so sad, and Sara didn’t want to see anyone suffer humiliation. Not to mention, she felt like this was all her fault. “So do you think you can call him?” Dakota asked.

  Sara should’ve seen the question coming, but, as usual with things involving Dakota, it made her feel like she’d just been hit from behind by a train. “Um…well, I’ll try. I think they’re getting ready to go on tour. Maybe that’s why he’s not calling. Maybe he knows he won’t be in town.” She hated lying, and she knew that by doing so she was only making the situation worse. If Dakota found out about what had happened, Sara was not only going to be the bitch who stole the birthday girl’s date, but a total liar on top of it. But what could she say? Sorry, Dakota, he doesn’t like you. He told me after we finished making out.

  “Have you thought about asking someone else to the party?” The question felt deceitful coming from Sara’s mouth.

  “No. And I can’t have a shameful legacy following me to my party. What will everyone think when they find out the guy I told them I was going with isn’t coming after all? I have to take a backup date? Who does that? A desperate loser is the only type of person I know who will end up in that kind of situation. Not me.”

  Sara felt like telling her that she shouldn’t have lied to everyone, but that definitely wasn’t going to help anything. Worse, it seemed like the whole party was just one big game for Dakota, and taking Ian was only about winning in Dakota’s mind. Did she really even like him, or did she just want to take him because she didn’t want to be “a loser”? The thing that drove Sara crazy was that she wasn’t playing any games. Sara genuinely liked Ian. It wasn’t some dumb party game for her. It was love.

  “Call him. You’re the party planner, and he’s part of the plans.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” As soon as she finished saying the words, she realized that she was speaking to deaf ears. Dakota had already hung up.

  Sara pulled out her emergency kit and headed back to the party to go clean up another mess.

  Eighteen

  Sara and her mother were sitting in the living room, going over all the details for Dakota’s party. Though Sara had done a decent job of keeping up with all the major details, there were still all the small, yet very important details her mother was good at remembering. Dakota wanted an ice sculpture, and since the party was in August, they were going to have to make sure they used a sculptor who had refrigerated transportation. Ice sculptures were made using a special mold that kept the water crystal clear when it froze. It was an ordeal to keep the water clear and sparkly, so Leah wanted to make sure that they gave the artist plenty of time to prepare.

  “She wants her sculpture to be pink,” Sara said.

  Leah shook her head. “No. I’ve seen dyed ones. Tell her the beauty of the sculpture comes from the clear ice. We can provide pink lighting that will look beautiful. You’ll have to explain all this to her.”

  Sara took notes.

  Leah also wanted to make sure the sculptor could provide transportation to remove the remaining block of ice after the party, because Dakota’s massive self-portrait statue could flood the entire reception patio once it melted.

  They talked about the food. There would three stations of food at the party. One was a full Japanese sushi bar. The other was going to be a fruit and smoothie station. And the last would be a nacho buffet with every kind of topping one could think of.

  Gene’s company was going to make five hundred plumeria leis for the guests. The cost alone was enough to buy a small car. They needed to designate spots for the exotic birds. The list went on and on.

  Leah’s notebook was wide open, and Sara noticed an upcoming wedding in August. The Kenny Street Band was penciled in with all the other vendors. Unless Ian had quit working for the cover band, he would be there. They’d be forced to cross paths. She worried about what Ian was going to do when he saw her. Or worse, what he wasn’t going to do. Would he completely ignore her?

  “Bossy” came blaring from Sara’s backpack.

  Her mother chuckled. “Dakota. That makes me laugh. Can I get you to put ‘Barracuda’ on my phone for that woman who handles all the tablecloths?”

  In spite of the fact that her heart was pounding from the mere sound of Dakota’s ring, she managed to laugh. “Sure, I’ll show you how to do it.”

  Sara’s phone was tucked in the small pocket inside her backpack, which was beneath the coffee table separating Sara from her mother. Even though the phone was buried, the song still sounded as clear as if it were sitting right out in the open. They both eyed her backpack before Sara continued talking. “So anyway, back to the party.”

  “You’re not going to answer it?” Her mother looked puzzled.

  Sara had tried to ignore the phone but apparently her mother wasn’t getting the drift. “I’ll talk to her later,” she mumbled. “I have to meet Blake for the movies, and she’ll keep me on the phone forever.” The last thing she needed was for her mother to find out about any of this. Not only would Sara be banned from her mother’s party-planning business, but she’d be thoroughly embarrassed. Her mother would be mortified if she knew that Sara had kissed a client’s date—even though Ian had technically never been Dakota’s date.

  “The London party is next weekend. It might be something important,” her mother urged.

  “I’ll call her later. I can’t reach my backpack.”

  “Well, here. I can. I’ll get it for you. I’ll talk to her.”

  “No!” Sara hadn’t meant to shout.

  Her mother shot her a look.

  Sara tried to sound calm when she spoke. “I mean, it’s probably best if I talk to her…since it’s been mostly me anyway.”

  “Just tell me where it is.”

  “It’s…in…the…pocket.”

  She watched her mother unzip the outside pocket, which was the wrong one. Sara hesitated before correcting the mistake. She sort of hoped it would go to voice mail by the time her mother found the phone. She’d been avoiding Dakota for two solid days. Never in her life had she avoided a client, but she couldn’t help it.

  Her mother’s fingertips had barely touched the phone when it quit ringing. “Oh well, you missed it,” Sara said. “She’ll call back later. Anyway, back to work.”

  No sooner had she spoken the words than “Bossy” came piercing from her mother’s lap. This time there was no excuse.

  Her mother held up the phone.

  “Hi, Dakota. It’s Leah! Sara and I are doing a little switcheroo. She’s taking notes right now, and I’m taking calls today. We’re actually going over your party.” Her mother laughed. “Uh-huh…yeah…what’s going on?”

  Sara’s heart pounded. She heard bits and pieces of small talk, and it was hard to tell exactly what they were discussing. It sounded mostly like ice sculpture stuff. Her mother gently talked her out of using dyed ice.

  When she was finished, she held out the phone for Sara.

  She had no choice but to answer. “Dakota, hi. How are you? I’ve been so swamped and I’ve been meaning to call you back—”

  “Did you call him yet?”

  “Um…er…I tried but—”

  “Do you know something I don’
t know?”

  “Er…no…I—”

  “You totally know something I don’t know. What do you know? Tell me. Did you hear something? Did he say something to you? You know something, don’t you?”

  Dakota had become a paranoid monster. The irony of it all was that Dakota’s worries weren’t that unrealistic. Sara knew a lot. She knew that the chances of Ian coming to the party were about as great as snow in San Diego. She knew that she had called Ian—twice as a matter of fact. And it hadn’t been on Dakota’s behalf. It had been to apologize for acting like a complete idiot at the beach the other night after he kissed her.

  “Listen, I think we need to remember that he has an extremely busy schedule. He’s not the type of guy who’s going to be sitting around playing video games or hanging out with friends. He works a lot. I’m sure he’ll call me back as soon as he has a chance.”

  It wasn’t a total lie.

  “What am I going to do?”

  Sara squirmed in her seat. “Um…I’ll be happy to help you find another date….” Sara’s voice trailed off. Were those tears that she heard? Was Dakota crying?

  “This is horrible,” she wept. “This is going to be the worst party ever.” This wasn’t the first girl to have a complete and total meltdown before her big day. Sara had heard enough birthday girls declare through a teary haze that their sixteenth birthday party would be the worst day of their lives. However, this usually involved some kind of problem with their gown or the band. The last time she’d witnessed a major meltdown was last summer, when they’d planned a sweet sixteen that involved several topless male models holding white tigers on leashes. The models and the tigers were supposed to accompany the birthday girl when she arrived at the party in her Egyptian gown and headpiece. It was a grand entrance meant for a goddess. However, it became a grand entrance for Old MacDonald when goats arrived instead of tigers. The birthday girl had a full-blown meltdown when the farm animals began leaving a trail of blueberry-like poop all over the red carpet.

  At least, the goat/tiger mix-up hadn’t been Sara’s fault. Never had she ever heard of a party planner stealing anyone’s date. Never.

  “It’s not going to be the worst party. It’s going to be the best party ever. Please, there is really no need to cry. I promise everything will work out.”

  “You promise you’ll talk to Ian?”

  Sara paused. She couldn’t lie. She also couldn’t bring herself to talk to Ian on Dakota’s behalf. Her mind raced. What should she say? “I’ll…”

  Suddenly Dakota’s weeping stopped. A hollow silence filled her earpiece. It was a miracle. The call had been dropped. Things like this never happened to her. Usually calls were dropped during a critical moment of one of Allie’s stories—not when she needed an escape route more than ever.

  She flipped the phone shut, then turned it off. She didn’t care if she missed important phone calls from other clients. She couldn’t answer the phone again with her mom anywhere in the vicinity. The curious looks she’d been getting from her mom’s side of the table were making her squirm.

  “What’s going on?” her mom asked. The inquisition was inevitable. Sara knew it was only a matter of seconds before she started getting pounded with questions. “She was crying?”

  Sara nodded, wishing her mother would, just for once, decide not to be nosy. “It’s a long story,” Sara said, hoping this would stop the prodding.

  Somehow, her mother always had a way of getting things out of her. It didn’t take long before Sara was pouring out the entire debacle of Dakota and Ian to her mother. Strangely, it felt good to tell someone. Sure, she had Allie. But Sara was starting to wonder if Allie was getting sick of talking about it. Besides, Allie had already shared her strong opinions about how Sara should handle the situation. It was sort of nice to unload on a fresh set of ears.

  “There. There it is. That’s what’s going on,” she said as she finished the story. “And I know it’s all my fault. And the last thing I want to do is hurt the business or ruin the kitchen remodel.” A long silence followed. Sara spoke just to fill the air. “So I guess I haven’t been doing as good a job as you thought I was. I probably don’t even deserve my car.”

  She didn’t know what to expect from her mother. Sara fidgeted with her pen as she waited for her mother to say something.

  “Honey, I’m sorry.” She watched her mother wipe away a tear. Okay, totally not the reaction she expected. What’s worse, she didn’t want her mother to cry. She’d only seen her mother cry when her grandpa died, and a couple of times during the divorce. This was serious. Her mother was always in control. If her mother cried, that meant that everything was really out of control. Mothers weren’t supposed to cry.

  “Mom, please don’t cry. Really, please. I’ll fix everything,” she said slowly.

  “I feel like this is my fault.” Her mother took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have let you take on the responsibility of this party. When you told me you didn’t want to do this, I should’ve listened to you.” Within a couple of seconds, her mother pulled herself together. She took a deep breath as the tears subsided. Then she seemed so serious and concerned. “This past summer, you’ve really demonstrated how responsible you are and how well you can handle things on your own.” She looked sad as she spoke. “I feel like we’re a team. You’re a young woman now.”

  “Really?”

  Her mother laughed, and Sara was glad to see her lighten up.

  Sara chuckled too. “I mean, oh. I guess I am. I just never thought of things that way.”

  “You are. You’re growing. You’re going to go off to college in a couple of years. And I think I made a big mistake by making you feel that we had to put the business first in spite of our feelings. Those aren’t the priorities that I want you to have. I just want you to be happy. And I haven’t always put the business first. I was being a hypocrite.”

  “You were?”

  Her mother nodded her head. “Yes. Look at Gene. He is one of the biggest vendors that we use. Imagine if things went badly with him, and we had to cross paths at a million more weddings. I mean, things won’t go badly, but my point is that I still put my personal feelings first in that situation. Listen, I don’t care what happens with this Dakota London party. Why don’t you just tell her that I have you working on other events now, and I’m taking over from this point on? If she finds out about Ian, well then that’s just too bad for her. She needs a lesson or two herself. I don’t care if she’s mad at us. You have to do what’s important for you. Honey, it’s important that we make these parties special, but not at the cost of our personal lives.”

  Sara thought for a moment. This had been the most she’d talked to her mother in the PG days, and she was glad she’d had the chance to finally sit down with her and discuss non-party-planning things.

  She glanced at her watch. She had to pick up Blake in ten minutes. “Mom, I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to finish what I started. I’m older now and I really think I can handle this myself. Somehow I’ll fix this situation, but backing out now isn’t the way I want to do it.”

  The August heat had drawn a crowd to the movies. It seemed everyone was eager to escape the triple digits and head to a dark, air-conditioned theater. When Blake had called her that morning to go to the movies, she’d been reluctant. However, sitting around dwelling on all her problems was going to drive her crazy. And what better escape than the movies?

  Sara and Blake bought tickets to the latest Owen Wilson comedy. Blake had offered to pay, but Sara insisted on buying her own ticket. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

  Blake took a place in line for cold drinks while Sara went to the restroom. The bathroom buzzed with girls. Sara took a moment to check her messages while she waited in line. She’d sort of become obsessed with checking her messages, hoping that Ian would call her back, then feeling crushed when her messages were all from Dakota and Allie. She had no messages. After she used the restroom, she primped in the mirro
r, then headed back to find Blake.

  She’d just left the ladies’ room, when she thought she heard her name. She spun around and faced Ian. He leaned against the wall next to the men’s room. “Ian. Hi,” she said slowly. “How are you?”

  “Good. Just waiting for Tristan. He’s in the bathroom. How ’bout you?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, even though she was dying inside. She wanted to tell him she’d be a lot better if they could just talk about everything. She wanted to tell him that she’d been a complete idiot. “I have your hoodie in my car,” she said. The words had just popped from her mouth. It was all she could think of. In a strange way, she’d been reluctant to give the hoodie back, because it was the only connection she had left to him.

  He nodded. “Oh, cool. Thanks. I’ll get it from you at the next event.”

  So he had no plans to ever see her outside of work again? She’d been hoping he’d say something like, Cool, we should go out for coffee anyway so we can talk and make up and I’ll get it from you then. That’s when she knew it was really over. He really didn’t care about hearing what she had to say.

  They looked at each other for a moment. She wanted to feel his warm arms around her again, to feel the glow that had come from their kiss. “Sara,” he said. “I guess we—”

  “Hey, dude,” Blake said as he approached. He held two sodas and a big tub of popcorn to share.

  “Oh, hey. What’s up?” Ian looked at Blake, then at Sara.

  If Blake had waited just two more seconds…She was dying to know what Ian was going to say. Furthermore, now it looked like Blake and she were on a date.

  “Nothin’ man, just going to the movies. How about you?” Blake said.

  “We’re actually on our way out.”

  “And we’re actually just friends,” Sara blurted out. “Blake and me.” Oh, God, why had she said that? Ian and Blake looked truly puzzled, and she felt like a complete jackass.

  Tristan emerged from the bathroom wearing sunglasses. Ian headed toward his brother. “Well, you guys, enjoy your movie. Take care.”