Late to the Party - Kelly Quindlen Page 0,40

me, cheers-ing our cups together. “We’re bougie bitches like that.”

I took a sip, and it burned like nothing I’d ever tasted before. I stuck my tongue out without meaning to.

“People like this stuff?” I said, and Ricky laughed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“Just sip it. It’ll get better.”

Samuel took me on a tour of the house, which was smaller than Ricky’s and mine but full of knickknacks and kitschy art that his parents were into. Terrica came with us, shooing people out of the way and twirling like Vanna White every time Samuel pointed out something new. When we got to the upstairs, Samuel pulled up short at the sight of Leo standing assertively near the banister.

“Dude. You blocked off the entire floor?”

Leo crossed his arms. “Yeah? I’m only letting them use the bathroom. Your parents’ and sister’s rooms are off-limits.”

I remembered what Ricky had told me after that first party: that Leo always found the spot where people were most likely to hook up and charged them ten dollars to use it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, man?” Samuel said. “How much have you made so far?”

“Thirty bucks.”

Samuel hesitated. “Fine. But I get half of what you make. And obviously we”—he gestured between Terrica and himself—“don’t have to pay.”

“I’ll give you twenty percent.”

“Seriously, dickhead?”

Leo shrugged. “Dude, you know I’m gonna use the money to share more weed with y’all anyway.”

“All right, all right,” Samuel said. “Carry on.”

We trailed back downstairs, where Ricky, Natalie, and Cliff were hanging out in the kitchen. Samuel filled them in on Leo’s latest business venture, but I hardly listened: I was looking for Lydia, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Natalie,” I said as quietly as I could, “where’s Lydia tonight?”

“Oh,” Natalie said breezily, pouring more LaCroix into her cup, “she’s at the movies with her family.”

“Her family?”

“They go one Friday night a month, isn’t that cute? Usually it’s just her and her parents, but both her brothers are home this weekend, so it’s like a big deal. I always give her shit about it, but that’s because my parents are divorced and I’m jealous. Anyway, she’ll probably roll in around eleven with a big thing of popcorn under her arm.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“She loves movie theater popcorn, so she gets it to go,” Natalie said, rolling her eyes. “And then she’ll try to grab my phone with that greasy butter all over her fingers, just watch.”

The party picked up its pace, with Samuel blasting Latin hip-hop that made my ears pound. More and more people arrived, and the shrieks of laughter grew louder, and the smell of sweat and heavy cologne was everywhere. I sipped my way through a second vodka and LaCroix, feeling more relaxed by the minute, even talking to someone I didn’t know in the bathroom line. Then Magic Dan pulled me over to show me card tricks in the family room, and Natalie had to come to my rescue by pretending she needed something from my car.

An hour later, Tucker showed up. I didn’t realize it was him at first because I hadn’t been able to see him that night in the dark, but I got a good look at him when he came into the warm light of the kitchen. He was a lanky, awkward-looking guy—there was almost something birdlike about him—but he had a kind of easy confidence about him, too. He went right up to a group of guys I didn’t know, who bro-hugged him and handed him a beer, and within seconds it was clear he was commanding the conversation. I kept waiting for him to come talk to Ricky, but he stayed planted where he was, as if Ricky were invisible to him.

Then I saw him looking furtively in our direction a few minutes later.

“Tucker’s here,” I murmured to Ricky.

Ricky didn’t take his eyes off Samuel, who was in the middle of telling a story. “I know,” he said through clenched teeth.

I didn’t say another word about it.

A while later I ended up in the family room, sprawled on the floor with Ricky, Samuel, Natalie, and Cliff. Samuel was telling us about his family cat, Burgermeister, who was tucked away in his room upstairs, and who was so fat they were having to track him on a diet plan. Ricky laughed hysterically into his hands as Samuel acted out Burgermeister’s attempts to climb the stairs.

“I’ve got hiccups,” Ricky said, giggling and wiping tears from his eyes. He paused and took a