The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (201 page)

Noelle turned to Tiffany. “Tiff? You in?”

“Oh, I’m so there,” Tiffany replied. “Dad has a
Vogue
shoot a couple days before Christmas. I’m going to assist.” Her father, Tassos, was a world-renowned fashion and entertainment photographer. “Actually, Kiran is one of the models.”

Gage visibly brightened at this news. “Oh, tell me it’s a swimsuit thing,” he begged.

“It’s a swimsuit thing,” Tiffany confirmed grudgingly.

“Yes!” Gage cheered. “Hammered, stupid,
and
laid.”

I rolled my eyes. Boy bounced back quickly.

Noelle focused her brown eyes on me. “Reed, you’re coming with.” She lifted her iPhone and hit the screen. “I’m going to call Donnie right now and let him know we’ll be one more.”

“Who’s Donnie?” I asked.

“Our pilot,” Noelle replied.

I laughed and placed my hand over her hand on the phone. “Wait, wait. I can’t go to St. Barths. My parents will want me home for Christmas. Especially after all this.”

Noelle looked at me as if I were a puppy who’d just peed on the floor. “Reed. Think about it. Thomas was your boyfriend. Ariana tried to kill you. Now Ariana’s
sister
has tried to kill you. You go home, and the entire news media is going to take over West Wackadoodle, PA, and, while it might be
fabu
business for the local IHOP, they will camp out on your front lawn and spend the entire break tearing into your every secret. Do you really want to put your family and friends through that?”

My heart pretty much stood still. I could just see the headline now:

STALKED SCHOLARSHIP STUDENT CONFESSES: MY MOM’S A FORMER JUNKIE.

“It’s settled, then. You’re coming with us,” Noelle said, accurately reading my silence. “For the next two weeks it’s nothing but sun, sand, and mojitos for us.” There were more shouts from the distance. The zoom of a rushing engine. I wondered if one of the news vans was getting ready to ram through the front gate. “We can deal with whether or not we’ll have a school to come back to later,” she added under her breath.

So she wasn’t that confident in Easton’s staying power after all. I swallowed hard and looked around the quad at the familiar buildings and faces as Noelle made her phone call. A world without Easton? After everything I had been through, that was one blow I wasn’t sure I could survive.

“So, Noelle, are you going to play the Upton Game this year?” Tiffany asked as we kicked back in our cushy leather seats on the Lange family’s private plane the next morning. Our chairs were arranged in a sort of conversation pit, so that we could all see one another. Toward the back were four more seats, lined up against the walls like in a regular plane, except they each were singles with tables at either arm. Only one was occupied. Noelle’s father, whom I hadn’t met yet, had been talking intensely into his cell phone ever since we arrived at the airport and hadn’t even glanced our way. Noelle’s mother was already in St. Barths and would be meeting our plane when we landed.

“I’m not sure you guys could handle the competition,” Noelle said, arranging the skirt of her black linen dress around her legs. She and Tiff both were already outfitted for the islands—Tiff in tan shorts, a white short-sleeve shirt, and stacked espadrilles—while I was bundled up in a wool sweater and jeans, my thick coat shoved
into the overhead compartment. I was, thank God, a newly reminted Billings Girl after yesterday’s successful vote, but I certainly didn’t look the part. I wondered exactly how hot I’d be when I stepped off the plane.

Tiffany laughed at Noelle. “Look at the ego on this one!” She accepted a flute of champagne from the flight attendant and curled up her long legs onto her seat. I passed on my glass. No alcohol for me. Not for a while. “Come on, Noelle! It’s your first Dash-less Christmas in forever. You have to play.”

My heart took a nosedive that, luckily, had nothing to do with the plane doing something funky. Dash-less?

“Okay, I’m confused,” I said as the flight attendant deposited a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries on the table between me and Tiffany. “A, what is the Upton Game? And B, Noelle . . . since when are you Dash-less? I thought you guys got back together.”

Noelle took a long sip from her champagne glass, and then placed it down on the table at her side. “Not anymore.”

I attempted to swallow. “You broke up? What happened?”

Noelle shot Tiffany a look, and Tiff focused her gaze out the window. “Honestly? It seems that once you’ve seen your boyfriend hook up with one of your best friends, it becomes rather hard to kiss him without thinking of where his lips have been,” Noelle answered.

My face burned. I was the best friend. I had ruined Noelle’s relationship with Dash. For good. “Noelle—”

“So, the Upton Game!” Noelle said loudly, brightly, slapping her hands down on her lap.

She wasn’t going to talk to me about Dash. I guess I could understand that. But I felt a sting in my chest nonetheless. Our friendship had changed, and not in a good way.

“Yes, let’s fill in Reed.” Tiffany reached for a chocolate-covered strawberry and bit into it.

“Okay. Tiffany and I have been going down to St. Barths ever since we were in strollers.” Noelle paused for a moment, and I knew that she was thinking about how she hadn’t been able to go last year because of Thomas’s trial. “And we’re not the only ones. There’s a whole group of us.”

“Like Gage,” I supplied.
Unfortunately.

“Gage, Kiran, Paige, and Daniel Ryan, Weston Bright, the Hathaways—”

“Poppy Simon—”

“Of Simon International,” Tiffany put in, passing the tray of strawberries to me. I selected one and took a bite. Its flavors exploded in my mouth. Much better than the dry pretzels on my last flight. “Her family owns this sick chain of hotels all over the world, including one on the island. We hang out there a lot.”

“Poppy is outrageous,” Noelle added. “I’m interested to see what you think of her.” She leaned back and narrowed her eyes. “Who else . . . oh,
Dash
,” she said through her teeth in a tone that forbade any further questioning. “And, of course, Upton Giles.”

She shot Tiffany a sly look, and Tiffany swooned dramatically. She fanned at her neck, opening her white collared shirt wide. “Oh, Upton Giles . . . ,” she sighed.

“You got that right.”

Noelle leaned forward, and they clinked glasses.

“Who’s Upton Giles?” I asked.

Noelle took a breath, swigged her champagne, and turned to us. “Upton Giles is the single hottest male specimen ever to walk the earth.”

Noelle was not one for overexaggeration. If she said the guy was drop-dead, he was drop-dead. I immediately thought of Josh, who had yet to call me, text me, or e-mail me. I wondered if he knew I was headed to St. Barths. He had to have heard it through Gage or Weston or someone, right? I pulled out my iPhone to quickly check for messages. There was nothing.

My heart twinged, and I put down the phone.
Moving on, Reed, remember? You’re moving on.

I looked at Noelle. “So . . . Upton Giles is the object of the Upton Game?”

“Exactly,” Noelle replied.

Tiffany cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “Every year, all the girls in the crew compete for Upton’s . . . affection,” Tiffany explained.

“Back when we were twelve, it was all about who could get a peck on the cheek from Upton first,” Noelle explained, slightly lowering her voice. “But now that we’re older, things have gotten a bit more intense.”

“Basically, whoever hooks up with Upton first wins the Upton Game,” Tiffany clarified, taking a sip of champagne.

I nearly choked on a large bite of strawberry. “Omigod. Ew!” I said, covering my mouth. “You guys all have hooked up with Upton?”

“Reed! Please! I don’t think my father could quite hear you,” Noelle admonished, swiveling in her seat to check the back of the plane. But her father was still barking away on the phone. She settled in, smoothing her long black skirt over her legs. “
I
have not. Cheek peck back in the day? Yes. But for the last few years I’ve been . . . otherwise occupied, guywise.”

Noelle and I avoided eye contact.

“But pretty much everyone else has hooked up with him,” Tiffany added, swigging from her champagne glass again.

I looked at Tiffany. As long as I had known her, she’d never had a serious boyfriend. In a weird way, I had always thought she was sort of above the petty pursuit of guys. She usually had so much other stuff going on. Her love of photography kept her well occupied—she always was shooting for classes, for fun, for the school paper, and sometimes even for magazines in New York City. She also was a straight-A student and sang in the Easton Chorale. The thought of her with a guy was totally out of context.

“Even you?” I asked.

Tiffany blushed and shrugged. “We all have our weaknesses.”

“Everyone except Taylor,” Noelle amended. “She’s been coming down for the last few Christmases as Kiran’s guest, and she’s yet to win.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Tiffany added, rolling her eyes.

Noelle laughed lightly, and I looked down at my hands. It was
going to be so odd seeing Taylor Bell and Kiran Hayes again after more than a year. I hadn’t spoken to Taylor in ages—not since the night she disappeared from Easton so mysteriously. The last time I saw Kiran was the night she confessed that she had played a role in Thomas Pearson’s kidnapping. The kidnapping that had led to his murder.

Even with all of that hanging over us, I couldn’t wait to see them. I suppose that time heals all wounds. Or absence makes the heart grow fonder. I guess clichés are clichés for a reason.

“So, what do you think, Reed?” Noelle asked with a smirk. “Up for a little Upton?”

“Please,” I said with a scoff. “I haven’t even met the guy. Besides, I’m not really into players.”

Not anymore,
I added silently, thinking of Thomas.

“Believe me, when you see him, you’ll be in,” Tiffany said, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck. She was still blushing. Whatever the allure this guy had, it was strong.

“So, what else do I need to know?” I asked, hoping to change the subject. “The Upton Game isn’t all you guys do down there, is it?”

Tiffany and Noelle pretended to have to think about it. “It’s the only thing
worth
doing,” Tiffany joked.

“Well, there
is
Casino Night,” Noelle added.

“Ah, Casino Night,” Tiffany added, quickly sucking a bit of chocolate from her finger as she adjusted her position in her seat. “The Ryans throw it every year on the night after Christmas, and we all lose tons of money.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said wryly. “I guess I won’t be participating.”

“Oh, we’ll front you some green,” Noelle said casually, like it wasn’t even a question. “You have to come. Whoever has the most chips at the end of the night wins all the money that’s been spent at the tables. We usually give it to charity, but if you win, you could keep it.”

My face burned. “Because I
am
a charity case.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Noelle said, rolling her eyes. “I just mean, it would be great if you won.”

“They have everything,” Tiffany said. “Craps, roulette, blackjack, poker—”

“Poker is the most competitive,” Noelle put in. “Every year the girls try to beat the boys. It’s like an all-out war.”

“Really? Poker’s my game,” I said. “I used to play with my brother and his friends.”

“Nice. We have a ringer,” Noelle said, lifting her glass.

“Omigod, can you teach me?” Tiffany asked, leaning forward in her seat and placing her feet on the floor. “I totally suck.”

“Sure,” I said. “Do you think your dad keeps cards on the plane?” I asked Noelle.

She was already out of her seat. “Are you kidding? He and his cronies take this jet all over the world. How do you think Daddy won the house in Majorca? He bluffed on a pair of sixes at fifty thousand feet.”

Tiffany laughed as Noelle put her hand on my headrest. “Why don’t you come with? I’ll introduce you.”

I bit my lip. Noelle’s father was still on the phone and was obviously tense. Probably doing some big business deal. Hardly seemed like a prime time for an intro, but who was I to judge?

“Okay.” I unhooked my seat belt and followed Noelle toward the back of the plane. Her father glanced over his shoulder, saw us coming, and blinked. I heard him say something into the phone about calling back, and then he flipped it shut. He stood up as we approached and tugged on the waistband of his perfectly cut trousers. He had shed his suit jacket and wore a crisp white shirt, dark-blue suspenders, and a dark-blue-and-red tie, which was still tightly knotted. He had to be at least six foot four, with broad shoulders—definitely an athlete. His brown hair was cropped close to his head in a military Caesar, and he did not look old enough to be Noelle’s father. Hot uncle, maybe, but not her father.

He looked at me for a long moment before smiling at Noelle, which gave me the uncomfortable sensation that he felt I was in the way.

“Pumpkin,” he said, giving Noelle a kiss.

“Daddy,” she said. “You’ve been on the phone for so long; I haven’t had a chance to introduce you to my friend.”

Her tone was admonishing, and his reaction was chagrined. Was there no one Noelle couldn’t intimidate?

“Daddy, this is Reed Brennan. Reed, this is Wallace Lange,” Noelle said proudly.

“Reed.” He cleared his throat and nodded.

“Hello,” I said. There was a long moment of silence. Noelle looked at her father as if she were expecting him to say or do something.

I tried again. “Thank you so much for inviting me on vacation. It’s incredibly generous of you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.” Then his phone vibrated on the table, and he glanced at it distractedly.

“Excuse me,” he said gruffly, grabbing for the phone. “Hang on,” he said into the receiver. He held the phone to his chest and looked at Noelle. “I don’t really have time for social hour right now, Noelle,” he said pointedly.

Noelle rolled her eyes. “Do you have a deck of cards?”