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“You look like a ninety-year-old trying to put his jacket on.”
Caleb stopped moving and blew the brown waves that had escaped their slicked-back ’do off his forehead. “How else are you going to dance to this song?”
“You seriously calling that dancing?”
He laughed and pointed to my arms. “At least I don’t look like someone being electrocuted.”
“I’m freestyling.” My arms jolted in a wave from the tips of my left fingers across my shoulders to the right.
“That what they call it?”
I shoved Caleb in the arm, laughing. “Yeah, you should try it sometime.”
“I’d need some alcohol for that.”
“Did someone say alcohol?”
I swung around to see one of our good friends—or I should saymygood friend, since Caleb couldn’t stand him—East, with a smirk plastered on his smug lips.
“Caleb.” I grinned at the way my new stepbrother was glaring at East’s interrupting. “But we both know he hasn’t got any.”
“I can fix that.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course.” The snobbish tone was pure East as his eyes flicked back to Caleb. “He needs all the help he can get.”
Caleb rolled his eyes and grabbed at my arm as East walked off the dance floor. “You’re not seriously going to get drunk tonight, are you?”
“Not drunk. Just a little happy. It’ll help loosen up the limbs. Plus, you know Mom and Dick don’t care if we have the occasional drink now and then.”
Caleb scanned the room, his conscience much louder than mine. But before he could think too hard about it, I grabbed his hand and tugged him off the dance floor.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Okay, but just one.”
“Yes, Dad.”
We laughed as we followed after East, weaving our way through the crowded tables and behind one of the huge pillars to where the doors opened out into a side hall. That was where we found the rest of our crew waiting on us.
There were six of us in total.Preston, who was Mr. Preppy, with his perfectly pressed tuxedo and straight-as-a-pin bow tie, whose father was a state Senator. Donovan, our resident pretty boy, who had a perfect face and smile and would probably end up being a famous model one day like his mom. Then there were the troublemakers, East and West, best friends from two of the richest families in Manhattan. The Eastons owned half the real estate in the city, and West’s father was one of the biggest hotel magnates in the world.
Our parents were all part of New York’s high society, and as their children we tended to get away with just about everything.
Including a few drinks at our parents’ wedding.
The guy’s faces lit up when they saw us, a couple of them coming over to clap us on the shoulders as West held up a bottle of Don Julio and waggled his brows.
“Ready to celebrate?”
“Shots?” Caleb groaned. “Oh God.”
“You had to pick tequila,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time Caleb drank tequila?”
“Yeah, he had fun.” West started laughing as he took a swig and passed the bottle to Preston.
“I can have fun without tequila,” Caleb complained as the bottle made its way around to me.
