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“That would be fantastic. But make sure that you use a different name on the invitation, so the cult won’t see us coming.”
I start to argue, but then I realize it’s a pretty good idea. Wyatt might not be in the cult, but I doubted he would be personally reading invitations to his parties.
“All right. I’ll see if I can’t work my magic.”
He pays for our meal, and we return to the Jeep. The sun sinks below the horizon, becoming just a red smear and stretching the shadows of the cars out long beside the freeway. I set to work, texting like a madwoman and following the blockchain of contacts I’ve built over the years.
The hustle is real. After a long game of phone tag, I finally get in contact with the niece of a prominent Hollywood actress. In exchange for a shoutout on one of my videos, she agrees to send me her digital invitation. It shows up as a barcode I can display on my phone.
“Okay,” I say, “I’ve gotten us in. But there’s one caveat.”
“What’s that?”
“The party istonight. We have to get a move on if we’re going to pick out outfits and arrive fashionably late.”
“All right.”
His face twists into a mask of discontent.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not a fan of big parties, and then there’s the fact that we’re going into a possible stronghold of the Order, when they’re gunning for you. Not to mention that it’s going to be hard to protect you with all of those strangers around.”
His lips turn down into a frown.
“I think maybe it would be best if you stayed at the Platinum Security office while I investigated the party.”
I try not to get angry, though his attitude miffs me. I know he’s just doing his job.
“That won’t work. It’s Gwyneth’s niece, remember? You kind of have to look like me to pass for the invitation.”
“I’m not on the invitation?”
I pat him on the shoulder. It’s like touching granite, he’s so toned. I try not to let that distract me…too much.
“You’re my plus one.”
“Oh.”
We drive in silence for a bit, and then he glances over at me.
“Wait, when you say Gwyneth, do you mean…?”
“Yup. That Gwyneth, with the candles that smell like…certain areas of her anatomy.”
“You really do have some heavyweight contacts.”
I wink at him. “I'll never tell.”
I use my phone to navigate us to an upscale clothing store on the extreme southern end of the LA sprawl. The shop is in a new building in kind of a crummy neighborhood. One side of the street is sleek and elite, and the other is grungy and covered in graffiti.
It’s almost like a paradigm of the contrast between myself and Grayson. The glitz and the grunge of LA, side by side.
We’re greeted by a tall, thin man with blonde hair turning tastefully gray. His sharply tailored suit includes a pop of color with his lavender tie and shiny cufflinks. A smile spreads over his wizened face and he comes over to embrace me. I feel a surge of elation when we hug.
“Charlotte! It’s been too long. How did that Versace blazer dress work out for you?”
“Oh, it worked out beautifully. The vid where I tried it on for the first time has over ten million views…and I made sure to tell everyone where I bought it.”
