The limousine drew up outside the venue shortly after eight. Brooke's eyes opened like twin moons as she stepped onto the sidewalk. "The Carlton, I've wanted to come here forever!" The club's exterior glistened white like frosting, where it wasn't illumined in fluorescent green or mauve.
"Surprise!" Stacey's eyes were alive with delight at her friend's reaction.
"But will we get in? Isn't there—like—a list we need to be on?"
"Sweetie," Kimber said as she led their group of four down the wine-coloured carpet to the front entrance, "stick with me and you'll always be on the list."
Brooke exchanged a look with Stacey. "Is it me?" she'd asked her best friend not an hour earlier, "or is Kimber playing the society diva more and more these days?"
"It's so not you," Stacey reassured. "Her family has all sorts of connections, including in uptown Manhattan. Ignore her. You know what she's like."
As security nodded to Kimber and ushered them through The Carlton's porticoed entrance, it was easy to forgive the haughty blonde her posturing. Kimber glanced back as she clicked over the marble floor, a triumphant smile on her lips. "Beats the usual college dives, right?" She and Leandra high-fived smartly, the shorter girl basking in her friend's social confidence. "Hey Brooke, bet you wish you'd dressed for the occasion now."
The words stung. If Brooke had known where they were going to begin with ...
She'd dressed to do a certain kind of impressing, certainly, and was sure that she could carry off borderline-slutty in a place like this if she assumed enough self-assurance. But in truth Kimber's look showed her up. The taller girl looked every inch the killer blonde, white dress swathing her lissom frame to demure effect.
Strolling into the mirrored splendour of the main bar, Brooke shrugged off Kimber's cattiness. She let the buzz of conversation wash over her, picking up on snatches of wit as patrons relaxed over martinis and prim summer cocktails. Quite a departure from chest-thumping jocks and their beer bongs. Her eyes made a return flick to one particularly dark and well-made man ordering a drink and her gaze lingered on him a second. His solid frame was exquisitely coutured; he was the emblem of all she would expect in this class of bar.
She smiled at the thought and strolled further in. Acid jazz was filtering down from the upper-level dance floor. The bar-front recalled that Renoir print she had beside her bed. Now here was a place worthy of a landmark birthday.
"Loving it already?" Stacey squeezed Brooke's arm and grinned.
"God yes, I was born to this. Kim and I were swapped at birth." She burst into giggles with her friend. They ensconced themselves at a table and deconstructed the whole place—nouveau art-works, shimmering lights and svelte patrons—while their sorority comrades went for drinks. Kimber would make out she was used to such up-market swank and Brooke was sure she should relax into it too, like The Carlton was her natural habitat. But her gaze continued to wander covetously.
"So many delicious men here," Stacey remarked.
"Yeah, a lot of them hooked up."
"Not all. And the unhooked ones are all looking our way. Especially
your
way, but hey, I'll bathe in your reflected glory." Her slender fair-haired friend grinned.
Stacey's trademark reserve was thawing, Brooke observed, and it was understandable with all the careful grooming and tailored Italian silk on view. Her eyes instinctively searched for the dark stranger she had noted on entering and observed with an accompanying flash of irritation that Kimber was leaning into him to pass comment en route from the bar. Leandra was grinning in support at whatever her blonde friend had said.
"I'm not here for a hook-up. I'm here to celebrate with my friends," Brooke said vaguely, then realized that her gaze was belying the sentiment. Stacey appeared as amused as she was unconvinced. "No, Stacey, I'm sorry. I mean it! I'm not going to bail on you, whoever the guy is."
"So there's no suave stranger who could spirit you away from the rest of us?" the returning Kimber inquired, picking up on the conversation. She and Leandra passed drinks. "That's very sisterly of you."
"Hey, I'm a team player." Brooke sipped on her mint julep and eyed the slinky blonde as they all settled around the table's smoked-glass surface. "Unlike certain 'sisters' I could mention."
"Sweetie, I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"I mean whoever you were chatting with at the other end of the bar—if he'd offered to whisk you off in his Lamborghini you'd have turned him down because you were with the girls? I mean seriously, Kim ..."
"Well for all you know he
did
offer and perhaps I shot him right down." Kimber looked to Leandra who backed her up with a cute smile.
"You could take him or leave him, or maybe you could pass him on to me," her sidekick said.
"There are other nights for picking up rich men. Tonight, Brooke darling, it's all about you." Kimber chinked her French Cosmopolitan against Brooke's julep.
They all drank and gave themselves up to frivolity and further cocktails. Brooke laid aside the concerns of imminent post-college life and love and relaxed into the glittering moment. It had been quite a ride for them all, these past three years. Tonight was for enjoying her college companions and to hell with all else.
"So what's with those stars?" Leandra asked, looking up from her endless texting. They'd all traipsed a good way down the road to alcoholic merriment by that stage.
"Yeah and why stars?" Kimber added with a familiar taunting edge to her voice.
Brooke rubbed her bared shoulder instinctively; her flesh was still tender from the tattooist's gun. "White Rabbit parlour in the East Village," she said, forcing nonchalance.
"And it's stars because she's still her Daddy's little star," Leandra said with a giggle.
"The stars," Brooke explained, mustering dignity, "are the Libran constellation, my sign. It doesn't mean anything, I just liked it."
"It looks really cool and pretty," Stacey said, beaming reassurance.
"And a little bit slutty," Kimber put in. "I don't mean that in a bad way," she added, when Brooke's eyes widened in response. "I figured it was what you were going for, the fish-nets, and all that mascara to set off those big baby-blues. Like right now, the way you're staring at me all offended." She smirked. "Hey, go for it girl, if it makes you feel grown up."
"Thanks, I feel plenty 'grown up'." Brooke hadn't expected anything less than a bit of light sparring with Kimber on her birthday. Leandra was smirking at the exchange, Stacey's eyes flicking back and forth warily. "I wanted to do something for me, that's all," she said. "Something unexpected. You should try it."
"Well good for you." Kimber smiled. "The jocks will love it. You might be able to pick up the final few members of the athletics squad, the ones who haven't noticed you waggling your well-formed tush around on the track-side."
"I've dated one or two boyfriends from the athletics squad, true."
"And flirted with the rest."
