“Try not to talk about your dad tonight.”
Sheri is rocking gently on a wooden chair, running her hands up and down her thighs, scratching at the denim of her jeans. A nervous thing?
“I won’t.” I turn around to look at my aunt. “I never do.”
“Good,” she says. Although she seems worried about the potential repercussions of breaking Ruben’s rules by allowing me to go out tonight, I’m glad she hasn’t changed her mind about our little pact. “Have you spoken to your parents yet?”
“Only my mom,” I admit, turning back around. I rest my hands on the porch railings and stare out at the walls that close us off to the rest of the world. It’s only now, gazing across the field, that I realize how much of a prison this ranch can seem. It feels claustrophobic despite the acres of land sprawling out around us. “I texted her, but I’m still annoyed.”
“At least that’s something,” Sheri says from behind me. I hear the creaking of her chair still rocking back and forth. “I know she’s worried about this arrangement. She checked in with me earlier too.”
I know I should call my parents at some point, but I’m not in a hurry to talk to Dad. Mom tried to fight for what was best forme, but Ruben’s job is to put Dad’s career first. Every argument Mom presented in my defense was quickly shut down, and no amount of persuasion could make Dad change his mind. In the late hours of that night, I lay awake listening to my parents’ raised voices from their room, but by morning Mom had gone quiet, defeated. The decision was final. From Dad’s side, it was far too easy. No protesting against Ruben like Mom did, no offering alternative suggestions, no objections. . . Good PR is obviously the priority.
“Did your parents mention your allowance?”
I glance over my shoulder. “No. They’ve blocked my access to my account, so. . .”
Sheri nods and stops rocking in that rickety chair. She stands up, sticking her hand deep into the front pocket of her jeans, then pulls out a few bills. “Here’s some cash for tonight in case you need it,” she says, offering the money to me. I swivel around to take it from her – it’s fifty bucks. “I have an allowance to administer for you. I’m to give you some cash as and when. Though who knows how they expect you to spend anything if you aren’t supposed to leave this place. . . I’ll tell them you’ve been fending off boredom with shopping online.”
“Thanks, Aunt Sheri.”
I stuff the cash inside my phone case and my phone vibrates in my hand as I do so. It’s a text from the most recently added number to my contact list.
SAVANNAH: Hey girly, we’re outside the gate. Do we come in or do you come out? I’m too poor to know how these things work LOL.
“Oh. They’re here,” I tell Sheri to appease her curious gaze. “Can you open the gate to let them in? Or how do I leave?”
To be fair to Savannah, even I don’t know how this works around here. Back home, the security gates around our property are controlled by fingerprint access, the highest tech possible.
“Oh! Of course – the gate. We’re having some technical difficulties with the remotes at the moment, so you’ll need to open it manually from the inside like I did earlier. The big button on the control panel on the left,” Sheri explains, then rocks back and forth on her heels. “Mila, if there’s alcohol at this party, promise me you won’t drink.”
“After those headlines from Thursday night? No, thanks.” I’m trying to joke, but a pang of shame sears through my chest. There’s actually avideoof me throwing up all over the TMZ website. And the images circling around the magazines are just as gross. I’ve learned my lesson – no more “experimenting”.
Sheri frowns and says quietly, “Just remember who you are.”
Ugh.The mere sound of those words has me clenching my fists by my side. I get it – I’m off to a tailgate party with strangers who have zero loyalty to me, but surely no one will care enough to go out of their way to talk to a journalist or sell photos to some sleazy celeb site? All things Everett Harding must be pretty boring by now to kids who’ve grown up in his hometown. I bet everyone is sick of hearing the name.
“And you’ll need the code for the gate for when you get back! There’s a keypad on the outside – take a note of this code,” Sheri says quickly as I’m moving toward the steps. She gives me a string of numbers that I punch into the notes app on my phone.
“Okay, got it. Bye!”
I run down the porch steps and do an awkward jog toward the looming gate in the distance – if I were to walk, I’d feel rude for making Savannah and Myles wait so long. When I reach the gate, I spot the control panel, open it up, then push the button that seems the most obvious – the giant green one. A loud, long buzz rings as the electric churns and the gates move. I retreat, allowing them to open wide, revealing me to the outside world as though I’m something special. Truly embarrassing.
Outside, a truck is idling. The black paintwork, most likely freshly washed and waxed for tonight, glistens under the spotlights that shine down from the walls. The windows are all tinted black and Savannah lowers hers from the backseat.
“Hop in!” she says, beaming.
I dash around the back of the truck and climb in the other side, careful not to scuff the paintwork with my sneakers. I’m not sure Myles would be happy if I damaged his car.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I apologize. I’m not sure how long they were sitting out here before Savannah texted, but I hope it wasn’t a while. I pull on my seatbelt and check out Savannah’s outfit to ensure I’m dressed appropriately.
I’m wearing a pair of ripped jean shorts, white Nikes, and a crop top. I straightened my hair and applied a generous amount of makeup, my lips sticky from the gloss. Luckily, Savannah is almost identical, except her hair is loosely curled and she’s wearing a denim mini skirt.
“We just got here, don’t worry,” Myles says, and it’s only when I glance up to look at him that I realize he’s sitting in the passenger seat.
Which means he isn’t the one driving. This isn’t his truck.
“Uhhh. . .” I shoot Savannah a questioning look, then subtly point to whoever is behind the wheel. They haven’t turned around yet nor have they spoken.
