The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (139 page)

We grabbed sandwiches and bottled water and got to our table before any of the other Billings Girls arrived. In fact, the place was as still as the library. Only a few of the faculty and some of the foreign exchange students—who always seemed to arrive early to everything—were present, and their conversations were whispered, hushed.

“I think ‘indulgence’ is a perfect theme,” Sabine whispered as we
sat down. “All those ideas London had about serving only sweets and champagne and having private massage rooms and cashmere blankets on every seat as favors—it sounded divine.”

“I like it too, but it might be too expensive to pull off. It’ll all depend on whether or not the Twin Cities can really get all that stuff for free or at cost,” I replied, opening my notebook to the theme list. “What about the green theme? The environment is so trendy right now and we—”

“Ladies! I’ve got it!”

I stopped talking as the door to the dining hall flew open and Noelle made her announcement. She strode over to our table, her cheeks flushed from the cold, tugging her camel-colored suede gloves from her fingers. Tiffany, London, Vienna, Portia, and Shelby were at her heels, looking like very excited ladies-in-waiting.

“You’ve got what?” I asked, looking up at Noelle as she paused at the end of the table.

“The most perfect fund-raiser idea ever!” She shrugged her thick hair off her shoulders and spread her fingers wide. “We are going to make so much money for this school, the Crom will not only leave Billings alone, he’ll bow down to us for the rest of our scholastic lives.”

I glanced warily at Sabine, whose expression had turned hard and cold. No surprise there. I was sure she saw this as yet another attempt by Noelle to seize control of Billings. But even if I did feel a twinge of foreboding myself, I had to ignore it. I owed Noelle that much, after last night’s conversation. Besides, I was kind of psyched to hear about this plan of hers. In my experience Noelle’s plans were generally fabulous.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” I prompted.

“Right. So we have the big, extravagant dinner for the per-plate donation we talked about, but we also offer a special platinum ticket,” Noelle said, pulling a chair over to sit at the head of the table.

“And what do they get with a platinum ticket?” I asked.

“Patience, Reed. I was getting to that,” Noelle said with a condescending smile. “Anyone buying a platinum ticket will be invited to a salon earlier in the day to be styled by the one and only Frederica Falk, stylist to the stars.”

London and Vienna clasped hands and squealed at the sound of the name. Like Noelle had just announced that Brad Pitt was going to be teaching their afternoon art history class.

“
And
photographed by Tassos, world-renowned fashion photographer,” Tiffany added, grinning.

“Really? That’s amazing,” I said.

I had never heard of Frederica Falk, but all the other girls seemed beside themselves at the mention of her name. And I knew from the reverent way the Billings Girls talked about Tiffany’s father, Tassos, that landing a shoot with him was one of the most sought-after prizes of the rich and famous. We could make a killing with this.

“And Dad has offered to donate a whole slew of his old photos and cameras and equipment so that we can auction them off at the dinner,” Tiffany added, dropping into the chair next to mine. She whipped her heather gray scarf off and opened her coat. “He can’t wait. Said the studios are long overdue for a purging.”

“Are you sure he’s okay with this?” I asked, turning to her. “I know he’s usually pretty busy.”

“Yeah, but he knows how much Billings means to me, so he’s going to clear his weekend,” Tiffany said with a shrug of her slim shoulders. “He even said he’ll donate all the film and developing, so his involvement won’t cost us a thing.”

“Wow. This is amazing,” I said, dollar signs floating through my head.

“Frederica’s donating her time too,” Noelle added as the other girls took off their coats and slung them over various chairs with their bags. “Kiran had major dirt on the woman, so it wasn’t exactly difficult to convince her to go along.”

“Wait a minute. Kiran’s involved? You talked to her?” I asked, nearly breathless at the thought. Kiran Hayes had been one of my best friends last year before the whole Thomas scandal went down, and I hadn’t heard from her since. Suddenly I was practically salivating for news. “How is she?”

“She’s fine. She’s Kiran,” Noelle said with a blasé wave of her hand. “Living with some male model on the Left Bank . . . planning some psychotic birthday bash for herself in Amsterdam or something. The usual.”

My friends chuckled knowingly, but I couldn’t believe that was all I was getting. The girl had dropped off the face of the earth, except for the occasional appearance in a perfume ad or magazine spread. Had she finished school? Did she care? Was she still drinking like a fiend, or had she gotten her crap together? Info, please! “Anyway, Frederica is going to bring along five assistants to make sure everything runs
smoothly, and since she owns her own makeup line, supplies won’t be a problem,” Noelle said, shrugging out of her cashmere coat. “This is going to be
the
event of the season.”

“Try the year,” Portia corrected.

“I don’t know what to say, you guys,” I told them, feeling awed by their abilities, their connections. “This is going to be incredible.”

“Well, thank Noelle,” Shelby said, tucking her iPhone away and shaking her blond hair back. “It was all her idea.”

I glanced at Sabine again. She could have incinerated the entire dining hall with the fire in her eyes.

“Come on. I’m starved,” Portia said, grabbing a potato chip off my plate. “Let’s motor.”

As Noelle, Tiffany, Portia, Shelby, and the Twin Cities scurried off to secure their lunches, I found myself alone with Sabine—and I didn’t relish it. I had a feeling I was in for another overly concerned lecture.

“Please don’t tell me you think Noelle is trying to oust me again,” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich. “Anyone could have come up with that idea.”

“Yes, but ‘anyone’ didn’t,” Sabine said, throwing in some air quotes. I had never seen her use air quotes before. She was really becoming Americanized. “Noelle did. And she should have at least run it past you before telling everyone how brilliant she is.”

“She had to tell Tiffany, at least, so that Tiff could ask her father right away,” I replied. “And besides, who cares who knew first? We were all going to hear it eventually.”

“It’s a matter of respect,” Sabine said firmly. “She has no respect for you.”

My mouth went dry and I took a long drink from my water bottle. Unfortunately, Sabine’s blunt comment struck a nerve. Noelle had always been my friend, but she had rarely, if ever, shown any respect for me—well, except for that night when she’d saved my life.

“Aw. Madame President is looking a tad peaked,” Ivy Slade said, stopping next to our table with her tray. “Having trouble finding people who want to help you save the Den of Evil?”

I wanted to reply, but not a single comeback came to mind. Ivy grinned at my hesitation, then laughed in my face and sauntered off toward Josh’s table. I watched her go with narrowed eyes, wishing I had some kind of telekinetic power that could send her sprawling on her ass from across the room. Clearly, Hauer hadn’t brought her in for questioning yet, or she couldn’t possibly be so smug.

Or maybe she could. Who knew? The girl was a complete enigma. Noelle had been no help, and I assumed that the rest of the Billings Girls would be mum about Ivy as well. If one member of my house thought something was big enough to keep a secret, that usually meant they all agreed. But someone else at this school had to know something more about her. Someone who would be willing to talk.

“I’ve been doing a lot of research on the subject, and the residents of Billings House have always sort of pushed the envelope around here with the administration turning a blind eye. Why do you think they’re coming down so hard on you now?”

I stared at Marc’s digital recorder, which he held in front of my face. Suddenly I realized I should have given some thought to what he might ask me and what I might say in return. But how was I supposed to concentrate on such things with so much going on around me?

“Reed?” Marc prompted.

“Um . . . because the new headmaster is a repressed jackass who’s probably never experienced a single moment of unadulterated fun in his entire sad life?” I blurted.

Marc looked at me, startled, then cracked up laughing. He doubled over and I felt a laugh bubble up in my throat as well. Before long we were both laughing uncontrollably in the middle of the sunlit quad.

“Can I quote you on that?” he asked, his eyes glistening with merry tears.

“Probably not a good idea,” I replied, grabbing his recorder and turning it off.

It took a minute for us to regain our breath. It felt so good to laugh, I wanted to keep doing it all afternoon, but then I saw something that brought me up short, and my mirth died. Just like that. It was Detective Hauer, and he was striding purposefully across the quad a number of yards off. I glanced ahead, checking where he was going, and my eyes fell on Josh. Josh, who was walking toward Ketlar, completely oblivious to the heat-seeking missile coming his way. All the blood rushed out of my head.

“Reed? Are you all right?” Marc asked, concerned.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. What did Hauer want with Josh? The detective caught Josh’s attention, and Josh looked around for a moment, as if disbelieving that the man was talking to him. He looked so skittish, so frightened in that moment, I just wanted to go over there and get between them. Protect Josh from whatever was about to happen.

Marc turned around and saw what had caught me so off guard. We both watched as Hauer led Josh back to Hell Hall. Watched until they disappeared inside.

“What’s going on? Why would the police want to talk to Josh?” I said, breathless.

“It makes sense. He and Cheyenne were involved in that whole drug-sex scandal thing right before she died,” Marc said pragmatically.
“Maybe they think he was holding it against her or something.”

“You know about that?” I demanded.

Marc hesitated for a moment, as if snagged. Had he been researching me and my past as well as Billings? “Doesn’t everyone know about that?” he said finally.

I supposed it was possible. News did travel fast at Easton. Especially scandalous news. I decided to let it go. Especially considering there were more urgent matters at hand.

“So you think he’s a
suspect
?” I asked, my heart racing.

“
I
don’t,” Marc clarified. “But
they
might.”

“This is insane. I can’t believe they’re doing this to him again,” I said, my words coming out in a rush. “The girl committed suicide. Josh didn’t do anything. He wouldn’t. He—”

“Reed, it’s okay. You don’t know what they’re doing in there. I’m sorry I said anything,” Marc told me, turning around and straddling the bench so he could face me fully. “Don’t jump to conclusions, okay? I’m sure it’s fine.”

I had told Hauer to question Ivy. Ivy, not Josh. Had he just completely ignored everything I said?

“Reed, if you want to do this interview some other time, I completely understand,” Marc was saying.

Off to my left, I heard a familiar laugh. Gage’s laugh. I glanced over at him, hanging with some of his Ketlar boys. Gage, of course. Gage had dated Ivy last year, had been fooling around with her as recently as two weeks ago. If there was anyone on this campus who knew about Ivy, it was him.

“I’m really sorry, Marc. I have to go,” I said, standing and gathering up my book bag and coffee cup. “Rain check?”

“Sure,” he said, standing as well. “Do you want me to walk you back to your—”

But I didn’t let him finish. I was already halfway to Gage. When I reached him, I grabbed the arm of his trendy wool sweater and dragged him away from his friends.

“Backwater Brennan! What’s with the stealth attack?” he asked, yanking his arm away. At first he looked annoyed, but then his eyes lit with conceited understanding. “Oh, am I your next conquest?” he asked, rubbing his hands together as he looked me up and down. “Sweet.”

“Ew. No.”

I swallowed back the bile that was oozing its way up my throat and yanked him down next to me on an empty bench. Gage was, of course, unfazed by my response.

“I have a question about Ivy,” I told him.

“You mean Ice-Cold Bitch?” he said, clenching his jaw as he looked away. Apparently, someone was holding a grudge against his former paramour. Interesting. I hadn’t been aware that Gage was capable of feelings. Maybe he’d recently seen the Wizard about a heart. “What about her?”

“What happened to her last year?” I asked. “Why didn’t she come back to Easton for her junior year?”

“You know, jealousy doesn’t become you, Reed,” Gage told me, his blue eyes sparkling. “You want to get back at Hollis, don’t go sniffing
around about his new lady friend. You have to make
him
jealous. And I can help with that,” he said suggestively, eyeing my legs.

God. What was with the guys around here?

“Did you not catch the ‘ew, no’?” I asked him, snapping my knees together. “Now spill.”

Gage rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Whatever. I’d only be the best you ever had, but your loss. Ivy’s grandmother got sick toward the end of our sophomore year, and she and Ivy were, like, really close, so Ivy decided to go to some school in Boston to be close to her. Then this summer the old lady croaked and voilà. The prodigal bitch returns to Easton to wreak havoc on all our lives.” He opened his palms toward the sky with a wry smile. “Happy now?” he asked.

Not exactly. This did not add up at all. Ivy as caring granddaughter? Ivy giving up her whole school life to be there for a member of her family? That so didn’t track with the girl I knew. The girl who was always ready with an obnoxious comment. The girl who had tried to keep all of Easton out of the most exclusive party of the year. The girl who had allegedly broken into said grandmother’s house intending to steal something. The girl who had dropped a guy who clearly liked her and gone after
my
guy before I’d had even a day to mourn our relationship.