Ruthless Kings - Laura Lee Page 0,47

champagne fountain. The back patio is crammed with bodies, and the subtle lighting that was out there has been replaced with bulbs so bright, the whole area is lit up like a football field. Jesus fuck, I don't even want to know how much all this shit cost.

My jaw drops when my eyes stumble on the setup in the back corner of the living room. “What the hell?!”

There are actual stripper poles installed, all three of which have half-naked drunk girls swinging around them, surrounded by two dozen or so guys.

“Wow, she really wants to make it memorable, huh?” Ainsley asks. “Just what every girl wants for her birthday: pole jockeys.”

I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all as we walk through the room. Ainsley and I are subjected to more than a few people trying to either murder us with their glares or make our clothing magically go poof! with their leering gazes. Funny thing is, these dresses are so short, there’s not much that’s not already on display. I have to keep tugging my dress down to ensure I’m not showing ass cheek.

“Let’s check out the back,” Ainsley suggests.

We're hit with a rush of warmth from the outdoor heaters as we step outside. Damn, I think there are more people outside than in. Although it's late-October, the pool is even packed because Madeline keeps the water heater set at a balmy 82°. Thanks to the enhanced lighting, bare tits greet me from all around, and I spot a few couples in the pool that are definitely screwing up against the tiled wall. I don't even want to know what's going on back in the small grotto.

“Remind me not to use the pool until it’s fully disinfected,” I mutter.

There are speakers out here, but the volume isn't nearly as high as it is on the inside. It was no doubt staged that way to avoid noise complaints. However, the massive, clearly inebriated crowd certainly isn't helping that cause.

“Holy shit, is that Peyton?” Ainsley points to the group of people playing an apparent game of chicken in the pool.

When the blonde goes down and resurfaces, we see that it is indeed Peyton. She climbs back on Lucas Gale’s shoulders in her hot pink string bikini. Whitney is in the same position on that Christian guy’s shoulders, only she seems to have lost her top somewhere.

“You lose, Birthday Girl!” Christian yells. “Take it off!”

I turn to Ainsley. “He can’t possibly...oh, yep, that’s exactly what he meant.”

Peyton is making a show of untying her bikini top, swirling it in the air, and tossing it to the side.

Ainsley shakes her head when both girls start making out, groping each other’s breasts, getting more into it as the catcalls get louder.

I throw my hands out. “Is this really happening right now?”

Bentley swings his arm around my shoulders. “What’s the big deal? I don’t think there’s a single person in our senior class who hasn’t seen their tits at some point.”

Where’d he come from?

I tilt my chin up. “Well, I hadn't seen their boobs, and I was perfectly happy keeping it that way!”

Bentley watches the two girls as they kiss. “As much as I despise those skanks, you gotta admit, they’re putting on a good show.”

Ainsley makes a face and verbalizes my thought. “Ew, Bent. They’re acting like over-the-top porn stars.”

“Exactly my point.” Bentley laughs.

“God, it seems like they’re really enjoying themselves,” I observe. “I didn’t realize Peyton was into girls.”

“She’s not,” Bentley says. “My guess is they’re doing this half for the attention and half because they’re rolling.”

My brows rise. “Molly?”

He nods. “One and the same.”

“Huh.” I would’ve never pegged Peyton as a drug user either.

Bentley seems to read my mind. “Peyton’s a white-collar drug enthusiast. She thinks weed is for slackers.” He rolls his eyes. “But coke, pills, or Molly is totally up to her refined standards.”

"I think I need a drink." I try dislodging Bentley's arm, but he pulls me back in to him.

“Hot damn, baby girl. What are you wearing?” He scans my body head to toe, lingering on my exposed thighs and pushed-up cleavage. “And how did it take me this long to notice? You’re fucked when your boy gets here, and I do mean that quite literally. He’s not going to be able to keep his hands off you.”

Nope. Not going to picture that. Maybe if I repeat it enough times in my head, it’ll work. Gah, I definitely need a drink.

“Where is he anyway?” Ainsley asks.