Accidental Billionaire (12 page)

Logan looked at a loss. “I don’t know.”

He and Ella definitely hadn’t dated or he’d know the answer. A happy trill danced in her stomach, and she beat it down.

Rawlings moved to the front of the room. He didn’t use a microphone or tap on crystal. Everyone looked up to the front of the room, ready to hear what he had to say. A photographer, the one who’d been circulating all night, knelt and snapped photos. Three flashes went off. Rawlings motioned to the dark gold arches, the columns, the chandeliers. “Some say
why Vegas
?”

Yep.

Kira’s date, Drake, waved his hands overhead in a party rallying motion. “Not me.” He opened his mouth like a baby bird and bobbed his head at Kira. “Feed me, woman.” Kira had flicked cheesecake off her fork and Drake dove for it. This was her first look at Drake. He was cute, but a handful. Drake and Kira were both all bounce and smiles, and look-at-me attitude. And Kira’s dress, one-shoulder, spring green, stunning. Kira waved at her, and she waved back. Drake leaned forward and waved, too, like he needed equal attention.

“Why Vegas?” Fritz, the president, had a frown, tensed broad shoulders, and the start of a pout on his lips. He wore a black tux like all the other guys but had a stiffer set to his posture that made his appearance seem more formal than everyone else. He looked like a stuffy, formal Ken-doll. “Vegas,” Fritz said. “Really, Rawlings? I almost had to veto.”

“Fritz is a Strait. As in,
Family Values First
Congressman Strait.”

It was interesting hearing about his friends and their famous connections. Before Marissa went to LA, Baylee hadn’t met any famous people; and the ones she’d met through Marissa were known for their own talents. These guys had renowned families. That kind of pressure couldn’t be easy. Did they get a say in what they wanted out of life, or was everything decided for them?

“Vegas symbolizes taking it up a notch. That’s what we’re going to do.” Rawlings pointed to a framed poster. “Loyalty. Discovery. Deeds. Those are our virtues. I say we dream bigger and get things done.”

Ooh, jab. President Fritz had small dreams and failed to get things done. Fritz had an excellent poker face or he hadn’t caught the barb. It was hard to tell because ‘above it all’ seemed to be his default expression. Maybe he didn’t intend to go into politics like his father. He couldn’t carry off ‘man of the people’.

“Focus on our mission.” Rawlings uncovered a new frame on a tripod. The new poster had three lines of Latin.
“Fidelitas per aetatem.”

Logan translated, “Fidelity for life.” He said it without twitching.

Nice that. Dad should learn that motto. “I’m having that engraved into my husband’s wedding band.”

“I’m not getting married,” Logan whispered back.

“I’m not proposing. But why aren’t you getting married?”

He shrugged.

Oh, there was a story, though with a stepmom like Cleo, the story was obvious.

Rawlings pointed to the second line.
“Aut viam inveniam aut faciam.
Whether it was Hannibal, or Hercules who said it, we take it as our own.” He translated, “I'll either find a way or make one.”

Yeah.

Rawlings slapped his palm on the last line. “However I decided this would be best.
Factae non verbae.
Deeds, not words.” Everyone clapped, and Rawlings nodded like
of course
.

Definitely. She was getting that woven into her welcome mat. It’d probably block her father from entering. Like the way a lack of invitation stopped vampires from entering a house. Her chair jolted, and Baylee grabbed the table, digging her fingers into the muted gold tablecloth. The floor was retracting, taking the tables backwards. Logan grinned and placed his hand over hers.

Kira screeched. “What?”

Drake half slid from his chair, grabbed hold with one hand and then made a lassoing motion. “Whoa.”

Exclamations continued so she knew everyone’s chairs were moving back toward the walls. The floor didn’t stop until each table was centered under an arch, leaving an empty space in the middle of the room. She’d never been in a room that could do that; restaurant floors in Leithville stayed put every time.

Staff came in the side doors, pushing a long narrow table covered in a white tablecloth. It was like the conference table from the record label but half as wide and twice as long. In the middle sat two objects. The first was a wide-mouthed jar painted with colorful planets on a blue starry background. The second object was an oversized sandstone bowl with red flames on the side. Champagne flutes circled them in widening brackets that went down the length of the table.

Rawlings moved behind the crockery. “Those who support these tenets join me at the table. Those who lack belief in even one—” He pointed to the door. “The exit’s that-away. Avail yourself of it.”

“Party like there’s no exit,” Kira said as she and Drake did rally arms. “We’re in.” They rushed the champagne. Were they really feeling it that strongly, or had they been at the champagne already? Or both? Baylee eyed the label on the bottle the waiters were circulating: maybe
K
rug Clos d’Ambonnay packed a special kick.

Logan smiled. “Go or stay?”

Baylee gave him a
you’re crazy
look. She rose and moved forward, holding her heavy skirt in her hands. She was toward the front of the pack. Chairs rustled and pushed backwards and other diners joined them. No one left. She picked up a glass and took a sip: golden, fruity, yum. She tapped Logan’s glass. “To winning.” She could handle Vegas. She could handle Logan. She could handle Rawlings and his fancy pottery and crystal. She took another sip.

Kira held her glass to the light and it matched the highlights in her red hair. “Two-thousand a bottle, you know. None better.”

Baylee had tried not to choke and spit out the ten-dollar sip. The last party she’d been at had taken up a collection, five bucks each, to split a seventy-five dollar pony keg of Bud.

Rawlings assessed the group with a small smile on his mouth. The photographer snapped another shot. A sliding sound came from the back of the room and paneled walls draped with white curtains lit by fairy lights slid along tracks in the floor, sealing them off from the tables and into a new slightly smaller room.

“Dramatic much?” Fritz had an edge in his voice, and several couples laughed like he’d been especially clever. Sophisticated was one thing, but to find no enjoyment out of tonight. Wow. Or, maybe it was because he wasn’t in charge and tonight was sparkling. Somehow she got the impression that
enjoyment
wasn’t his thing. “Fritz doesn’t like Rawlings?”

“Power trip thing. Problem with his dad’s campaign last November. Long story.”

She was glad not to have sat with them. She was enjoying the small things. The glow of fairy lights against Logan’s tan skin, the crimson of her nails holding the golden champagne – all of it.

Rawlings said, “One of our other tenets is privacy. No sharing tonight on social media.”

Secret society is secretive. Not a shock. Wait staff dressed in black opened black bags. It was like she’d just raked the grass and they were going to help her bag it. Behind them, staff carried stacks of notecards on silver trays.

Rawlings held his phone over one of the bags. “You may keep your cellphones if you like, but they will be checked at the end of the game. Using your cellphone at any point disqualifies you.”

Baylee powered down her phone. “I’m not giving up my phone, but I’ll turn it off.”

Logan nodded. “Okay.”

A petite girl turned to her boyfriend, who was pulling at her purse. “I’m not giving up my cellphone.”

“It’ll weigh us down,” her date said. “You know you’ll use it. Every scavenger hunt we’ve had, you’ve ended up using it.”

She scowled. “I tweet every hour without fail. What’s the big whoop?” Her phone rang. She stared Rawlings dead in the eye and answered it.

Rawlings gestured to the president. “If you please, Fritz. State the club gaming rules.”

Fritz cleared his throat and stepped forward an unnecessary step. “Failure to follow the rules means
you’re out
.”

Kira shooed the girl with the back of her fingers. “Maybe the next event will be more for you.” Her glance landed on Baylee before returning to the protester. “Some people aren’t meant for the inner levels. Some people are.” She and Drake did a quick dance step involving entwined arms and a slide.

The petite girl stomped toward the exit, purse under her arm, and phone between her hands, typing as she went. Two wait staff held the door open for her. The departing girl’s date swallowed, his gaze darting between the door and Rawlings. “Can I still stay?” He held up his smartphone. “I won’t use it.”

Rawlings said, “At this stage, you can go it alone or with the one who brought you. Your call.”

The guy stayed, but five others followed the girl out. A tan girl in chartreuse, a tall girl in tangerine, their dates, and one other guy she hadn’t met.

Logan held out his hand. “You go. I go.”

Stay or go?

Baylee wanted to stay. She got a feel for the room. There was a weird energy: excitement, mystery, but no creeper vibe. Logan was a friend of Tyler’s, there was something about him that was honest; and though she hadn’t known him long, she trusted him. “Let’s stay.”

“Baylee Steele?” The server verified her name and held out a 3x5 index card and pen. The card was cream colored, heavy, and blank except for a club logo, an image of the universe, in the upper right corner.

Nadine’s brown eyes narrowed, and she clutched the card to her chest. Did Nadine’s say something? Baylee’s didn’t. She tipped the edge of Logan’s thick card. His was blank.

Rawlings wrote on his. He folded it in half and raised the pale square high. “Here resides my dearest material wish.” He dropped it into the jar and raised the jar above his head and shook it. “I give it to the universe so that I might receive it.” Ella giggled. Nadine rolled her eyes, but Rawlings had everyone’s attention. Rawlings tilted the jar into the bowl, and his card fell out. He lit a match and tossed it inside. The paper turned to ash. Rawlings gestured, palms out, to the table. “Write your dearest material wish on the card. Material wish. Selfish wish. This is about you and the universe. Only you.”

Screw that. She didn’t need more stuff to pack up for college. Mom needed stuff. Hmm. Dearest material wish. Maybe something whimsical. Baylee wrote down
crystal candies for Mom
. Bigger.
With dish
. She glanced around at the rest of the room. They wore frowns of concentration and wicked grins. None of them were thinking of their moms.

The night still had that weird vibe. If Rawlings lied and didn’t toss their wishes into the fire, but read them aloud or something, she’d be in for a heap of mockery.
“Candy girl… Momma’s girl….”
High school band had taught her lots about taking crap, and one of the first lessons was,
don’t load the taunters’ guns for them.

She tore the card in half and stuffed her wish into her skirt pocket. What wish would blend in? A rare caviar cache? The biggest yacht on earth? The tallest penthouse in the world? What were all those things anyway? Ego extensions. They should be wishing for health, a solid career, a hot date – something good, not a material item. She had a hot date, a beautiful outfit.… What should she put down? She stared at the blank half of the paper.

Rawlings moved along the table with the jar. He reached her and Logan. Logan folded his wish and dropped it in. It was the opposite of the genie in the bottle.

Her turn. Make a wish or leave the game. She thought fast and scrawled the obvious choice. One they’d all understand.
One billion dollars.

Rawlings motioned to Kira. “If you’ll do the honors?”

Kira held up the book of matches.

Rawlings held the jar to the universe again, shook it, and then upended the contents over the bowl. Folded squares fluttered out. Rawlings took the matchbook, lit a match and tossed it in. Flames lit the paper up. The room hushed as the smoke plumed and a faint burning smell bit at her eyes. They were watching intently like something epic was going to happen – like a genie or a magician would pop up. Drake clapped, and the claps continued down the table like a wave. Fire burned paper. It didn’t deserve clapping.

“Welcome, members. Now you must make a firm decision. Play together.” He touched one of Kira’s red curls. “Or play as individuals.”

Drake clutched at Kira like a koala on a eucalyptus plant.

“What’s the prize?” Nadine asked.

Rawlings said, “Your wish, of course.”

Right.

Everyone around the table stilled like they believed his crap and a few laughed, somewhat nervous laughter, but laughs.

Drake held up one finger and fought it into submission with his other two. “You better your odds that at least one of you will win. We are in Vegas.”

“But know then, the last person you are knocking out is your partner,” Rawlings said, without looking at his own partner.

Murmurs erupted around them.

“What do you want to do?” Logan asked.

She liked that he bothered to get her opinion on this. As long as she’d known him, he’d been making decisions for her, with Tyler, with the studio, and with his brother. This was a better side to Logan. “What’s the real prize?”

Logan grinned. “Your wish.”

Ha.
“You don’t know what I wished for.” She didn’t want to be a clingy date like Drake. She’d leave it up to Logan. “I guess we could play separately,” she suggested.

“Okay.”

She valued that he was easy-going, but it would have been nice if he had fought her on that one. Rawlings lifted Nadine to the table, making her hands fly out, startled. “Make your choice clear to everyone. Have a seat together or line up against the front wall.”

“Like I have a choice,” said the guy whose date had refused to turn off her phone. He headed to the wall. Several waiters wove in between people clearing the glasses. The group split pretty evenly, the singles at the wall, the couples around the table. Baylee took a spot by the poster.
Aut viam inveniam aut faciam.
Fidelity for life. Fidelity. Separating was a trick. She elbowed Logan and motioned with her eyes.