The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,565

need to start our long drive home soon, we head to Le Cirque for a celebratory dinner. The walls are adorned with vibrant murals, and the ceiling is tented in a soft, elegant approximation of a circus big top. Bright yellow roses sit at the center of every table, casting a buttery glow over the white linen tablecloths, and dangling chandeliers in rich blue Murano glass light the space warmly. Conversation is low over the clatter of silverware, and our server places a silver ice bucket beside our table with a promise to come by with a bottle of Veuve momentarily.

“The perks of being a ‘celebrity,’” I joke, adjusting the strap of my one-shouldered minidress—Mads and Char returned all my luggage to me after the game ended. “The champagne never stops flowing.”

“Oh, Sutton. The first prank. Seems like just yesterday.” Charlotte tilts her head to the side and softens her eyes in a fake-nostalgic gaze. The braids she’s wound into her hair catch the overhead light, glinting copper.

“It was just yesterday,” Madeline says with a snort. She straightens in her seat, pulling her faux-fur shrug over her shoulders. “And now, I think it’s time for the official initiation to begin.”

Charlotte clears her throat and taps her fork against her champagne flute lightly. “Hear ye, hear ye.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh my God. Come on.” I love Char, but leave it to her to dork out over this whole moment.

“Hear ye,” she insists. “The official Lying Game initiation of Laurel Mercer shall now commence.” She reaches into her embossed Lauren Merkin clutch and pulls out a white laminated card.

Mads giggles, winding a lock of hair around her finger. “We made that at a booth on the strip before you guys got to the amusement park.”

I whip my head up. “You made her a card before she even got in?”

Mads shrugs. “We wouldn’t have given it to her if she didn’t win the challenge, but we wanted to have it ready just in case.”

Char slides the card to Laurel. “I dub thee: Head Sneaky Bitch and Director of Velvet Rope-Hopping. Welcome to the Lying Game.”

Laurel skims the writing on the card and squeals. We all clink glasses, and it’s done.

A new member. It’ll take some getting used to, but maybe it’ll be okay after all. Four is a rounder number—we’ve been shorthanded for our pranks sometimes. And Laurel has gazed at me appreciatively all night, randomly giving me hugs. It’s a little bit annoying, but a little bit sweet, too.

Afterward, we head to The Bank, the club at the Bellagio, where Garrett, Tucker, and Marcus are waiting for us. The club is loud and crowded, but the lights onstage are dim while stagehands set up for a live performance that’s coming on later. Garrett got a tip that there’s going to be a surprise appearance happening, and given who we saw outside Saucy the other night, we have our fingers crossed for a Rihanna drive-by.

Dance music kicks up over the sound system, and a smoke machine rolls a sweet-smelling haze over the room. Laurel, Madeline, and the boys weave toward the dance floor, and when my sister reaches an arm back to beckon to me, I follow.

Before I reach the dance floor, a hand circles my wrist. It’s Charlotte, her face so close to mine when I turn that I can make out each individual fleck of glitter in her MAC eye shadow. She cups a hand around her mouth and leans even closer.

“So what was with the breather you took during the last challenge?” she shouts, clearer than I would have thought possible given the noise level in the club. “If it was too easy for you, you should have said so.”

I step back, bumping into a bleached blonde with dark roots. “What are you talking about?” I ask Char. “What breather?”

Charlotte puts her hands on her hips. Her midnight-blue manicure shines against the beading on her draped tunic top. “Sutton, I saw you. It was after the treasure hunt started, and I ran back to the Bellagio because I forgot my phone. And then I spied you by New York-New York. You were talking with some guy.” She rolls her eyes. “You really wanted to ride that thing, huh? Next time you’re trying to go incognito, though, you should step up your game. You need to do better than a ratty T-shirt and a ponytail. The Lying Game has standards.”

I blink. “I wasn’t at the roller coaster. I was doing