hotel and restaurant were open to the public, of course, but the traffic loop in front of the hotel was dominated by limos, town cars and taxis, and security was everywhere. Well-dressed guests wearing everything from exquisite red carpet formal wear to outlandish masquerade ball attire to ripped jeans and leather drifted into the hotel, through the lobby and up the sweeping staircase to the ballroom on the second floor—every one of them wearing a mask.
The official invitations had said: Anything with a mask goes.
I’d heard that Zane Traynor had actually threatened to show up in nothing but a mask, but we’d just have to see how the night played out.
This was a music industry event, which meant there were a lot of creative people behind it, and Summer had really amped things up with the whole masquerade-party-meets-rocker-ball theme. I may have actually suggested the idea myself over a bottle of wine, late one night at a party at Summer and Ronan’s house, because maybe I thought it might help Cary show up if he knew he could wear a mask.
Summer had fucking loved the idea, and along with the help of Brody’s staff and Trey’s people, they’d all made it happen. Maybe best of all, because Trey had such a knack for parting the wealthy with their money, he’d suggested we turn it into a charity event. So now we were raising money for my beloved animal shelter while we partied.
With its VIP guest list, this party had to be the hottest ticket of the year in Vancouver, and I almost had to pinch myself to believe I was part of it.
“Pinch me,” I told Merritt as we sailed in through the open doors of the ballroom, which were flanked by so many impenetrable-looking security dudes I almost thought we were gonna get stopped. But all I had to do was spot Ronan. He gave us both a quick hug, and in we went. Because he was managing security for the event, he wasn’t exactly in costume. He wore a black suit, but he did have a black mask pushed up on top of his head that maybe he was planning to slip on later.
Merritt dutifully pinched my arm. I’d already forgotten I asked her to.
“Ouch. Fuck. Okay, I guess I’m awake.”
“You may be high, though,” she said, gazing around. “I’m pretty sure I must be. That’s the only explanation for what I’m seeing right now…”
The beautiful, old room with its high ceilings, mysterious alcoves and open archways to the Eden-like, romantic balconies had been decorated in black, gold, and of course red, the theme color of the Players’ album. There was a massive banner with the album cover on it hanging along one wall, Ashley’s handprint in all that paint/blood splatter at least a story high. A trio of glittering, gold disco balls hung over the dance floor, glitter was sprinkled all over the floor, and glittery curtains draped the entrances to the balconies. On the far wall, there was a screen where an image of the Players in the studio faded out, replaced by another image of the band; image after image faded into the next, on a loop.
And of all things, one of my faaaaavorite bands was playing as we made our entrance. It was Our Last Night’s heavy cover of “7 Rings,” in an orgasmic mashup with the original Ariana Grande version and an incredible, panty-dropping dance beat, and I just about died and went to music heaven right on the spot.
It had DJ Summer written all over it.
The music was courtesy of a male DJ who was spinning over in a corner booth, but it was nice to hear that although Summer had officially left her deck behind and leveled up to rock star status, she hadn’t totally abandoned her roots. She was actually one of the first people we saw when we entered the room; she seemed to be hanging out near the entrance, maybe partly to be close to Ronan, and definitely to greet every single guest as they walked in.
“Summer! You’re killing me,” I told her as soon as she spotted me, and her mouth dropped open in delight. “The music is so on point, I’m gonna walk out and walk right back in.” I spun around and pretended to do just that. “The girls with tattoos are here,” I announced, referring to the words in the song as I strut over to her in my high-heeled boots.