of them in for one year, as a test-run, to see if it makes the game more fun. If not, they’re out again. We’ll make that clear to them up front so there are no hard feelings if we wind up booting them.”
Kendrick and Kai consult briefly, before declaring their verdict.
“Okay, but only this year on a probationary basis,” Kai says. He looks sternly at me, “You understand the terms? This is a one-shot deal, for now.”
“So you’d better make it good,” Kendrick adds with a wink.
“I understand. Thank you!” I whoop and do a happy dance. “Are there any rules or limitations?”
“Hold up,” Kai says. “Let’s get Ruby and Titus over here to give them the good news. Ruby’s been demanding to be included for years.”
Kendrick retrieves the twins and brings them to our group. And when Ruby hears the good news, she loses her ever-loving mind, like she’s just found out Fugitive Summer has been nominated for a Grammy—which, by the way, is something I predict is in Fugitive Summer’s near future. When she finishes hugging all three of her benefactors, Ruby hugs me and we laugh and squeal together, while Titus looks at us like we’re lunatics. Obviously, Ruby and I are overreacting here. But what I’ve learned in life is this: overreacting to good news is a whole lot more fun than underreacting to it. Plus, we’re drunk and happy and surrounded by a whole lot of happy people, so why not wring every drop of fun out of the situation?
“Okay, Laila, let me tell you the rules,” Kai says. “Ruby, Titus, listen up. You won’t be performing dares tonight. You’ll be admitted into the game, officially, on your birthday.”
“You think we don’t know the rules by now?” Ruby mumbles, but when Kai nonverbally chastises her, she mimes zipping her lips.
“Rule number one,” Kai says. “Your dare can’t be something that would maim, kill, or send any of us to prison.”
“Shoot,” Ruby says, snorting, while I think to myself, “You’re assuming I won’t pick Truth?”
“Two,” Kai says, counting off on his fingers. “The dare has to be something the person can do, right here and now. You can’t demand we perform some complicated prank that would take hours or days to perform. We have to be able to do it, spur of the moment.”
“Dang it!” Ruby says. “There goes my idea of making all of you bitches get a Brazilian wax.”
Rolling his eyes, Kai addresses me again. “As long as you follow those two rules, Laila, then the third rule of the game is that your minions have no choice but to do whatever you say. We’re your loyal subjects, Birthday Queen. Powerless to say no.”
Ruby raises her arms to the ceiling. “My prayers have been answered!”
“Dude,” Titus says to his sister. “Why are you so excited? Only Laila is doling out dares this time.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Ruby replies to her brother. “I’m vicariously excited for Laila. For what this means for womankind.” She turns and massages my shoulders, like she’s my cornerman in a prizefight, about to send me into the ring in a title bout. “Okay, Laila. You gotta represent, girl. Make womankind proud.”
“I’ll give it my all, coach!” I say, dancing from foot to foot like a boxer. And when Aloha happens to walk by, an idea pops into my head. Kai Cook is a “too cool for school” type. The last person in the world who’d ever “fanboy” over anyone, least of all a Disney-star-turned-pop-princess. I remember Kendrick once telling me about the time he made his big brother “fanboy” over Keane Morgan, the actor from Alessandra’s video shoot, during a game of “Birthday Truth or Dare,” so, I decide to follow Kendrick’s expert lead for my first foray into the game.
“Kai, you’re up first,” I say. “I dare you to fanboy over Aloha, until you get her to sing the theme song to ‘It’s Aloha!’ for the entire party. If you can’t convince her to sing it, then you have to do it.”
Our entire group, other than Kai, breaks into raucous laughter. As we all know, Kai doesn’t sing. At all. He’s a fantastic bass player. One of the best in the business. But God did not bless him with dulcet vocal cords. Which is why, fun fact, Kai is the only member of Fugitive Summer who never supplies background vocals on any of their songs. Not even the singalong “la la’s” in “Hate Sex High.”
Predictably, Kai looks tortured as the