The Secret Diamond Sisters (5 page)

“No, we don’t know anyone here yet,” Savannah answered, her
words coming out faster than she intended. Evie said she always knew when
Savannah was nervous because she turned into a talking chipmunk. She took a
breath and forced herself to slow down. “Except for you now. We just got here
today—we moved here to stay with our dad for a while. I’m Savannah.”

Damien leaned lazily against the door frame. “So you’re the
infamous Diamond sisters?”

“Infamous?” Savannah asked. “I’m one of the Diamond sisters,
but I didn’t know we were infamous.”

“I’m kidding.” He laughed. “There’s just been some talk about
you three, and everyone’s been curious to meet you.”

“Oh, okay.” Savannah knew Adrian Diamond was well-known, but
she hadn’t realized that meant people would talk about her and her sisters, too.
“Who’s everyone?”

“Just some of us who go to the Goodman School,” he said. “A few
of us live here and in nearby condos. Your dad made a donation for the school’s
new sports center, and the talk is you’ll be attending in the fall.”

Savannah had hoped her mom would get better before the end of
summer so she wouldn’t have to start her sophomore year with total strangers.
She bit her lower lip, trying to figure out how to reply in a way that wouldn’t
make her sound clueless. “We haven’t talked with our dad about school yet.”

Well, they hadn’t talked to their dad at all yet, but Damien
didn’t have to know that. And Savannah hadn’t realized that donations—or any
payments—were necessary to go to school. At Fairfield High, new kids just signed
up on their first day.

“Too bad,” Damien said. “You’ll have to let me know when you
find out. But you’ll be at the Fourth of July party at Myst tonight, right?”

“Yes.” Savannah breathed a sigh of relief at the mention of
something she knew a little bit about. That was the place Adrian had mentioned
in his note. “Have you been there before?”

“Been there before...” He repeated her question, lingering on
every syllable. “Of course I’ve been there before. It’s the hottest new club on
the Strip. And it’s the best, just like everything else at the Diamond.”

“Then I can’t wait to check it out tonight,” she said, proud of
how cool and collected she sounded. Maybe just
being
in Vegas would shape her into the Savannah Diamond she dreamed of
becoming. Perhaps a talent agent would discover her, and then her dreams of
being a pop star would come true.

“You’ll have fun.” He sounded confident, like it was impossible
for her to not enjoy herself. “A bunch of us are going to dinner before the
party. You three should come.”

“We can’t.” Peyton crossed her arms and glared at Damien, as if
he were doing something to seriously piss her off. What was her problem?

Damien ignored her and turned back to Savannah.

“We already have dinner plans with our dad,” Savannah
explained, the word
dad
feeling alien coming from
her lips. “Otherwise I would go. But we’ll be at Myst afterwards.”

“I’ll find you there, then,” he said. “My friends and I will be
on the third floor—it’s VIP—but I’m sure that’s where you’ll be, too.”

“Right.” Savannah tried to act unfazed, even though she’d never
been VIP for anything before. But obviously they would be VIP here, since
Adrian—their dad—owned the building. Well, buildings. “Does the club let
everyone in? I’m not eighteen yet, so I hope that won’t be a problem....”

“Not eighteen?” Damien faked disbelief in a fun, joking way to
let her know he’d already figured that out. “Really?”

“Really.” Savannah laughed. “I’m fifteen.”

“And the rest of you?” He looked at Courtney and Peyton.

“Sixteen,” Courtney answered, sounding like she wanted to be
anywhere but here. Savannah wished she could at least pretend to be
interested.

“And you?” he asked Peyton.

“Nineteen,” she lied, crossing her arms and giving Damien a
stare of death, as if she were daring him to contradict her. Damien didn’t
bother. Instead he looked back at Savannah, his eyes gleaming with the knowledge
that Peyton was lying.

Savannah couldn’t believe the attention he was giving her.
“She’s seventeen,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Same as me,” Damien said. “But thanks for the honesty. I like
that in a girl.” He paused to let the words sink in, and continued, “You’re
supposed to be over twenty-one to get into the club, but if you’re on the VIP
list they won’t bother you. Which you will be.”

“Okay.” Savannah couldn’t stop smiling. Being around Damien
made her feel like she’d downed a venti cappuccino. “I’ll see you tonight,
then.”

“It was nice meeting you.” Damien flashed her one last grin
before turning to walk down the hall. Savannah thought he was going to leave it
at that, but then he called over his shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight.”

She waved to him and closed the door. After it was shut she
leaned against it and smiled, her heart beating so fast that she could float
away from happiness. He was the hottest guy she’d ever met—and it seemed like he
was interested in
her.
Not Courtney, who was tall
and gorgeous even when she didn’t wear makeup, or Peyton, who was fearless and
not afraid to speak her mind. She might have even sounded sophisticated when she
talked to him, as if hot guys invited her to VIP parties at trendy nightclubs
all the time.

The day couldn’t get more amazing than this.

chapter 6:

A bellboy had dropped off their bags after they’d
finished talking to Damien, and Courtney now stood in front of the full-length
mirror in her room, frowning. What should she wear when meeting her father? Her
jeans and T-shirts didn’t fit in with everything she’d seen in Vegas so far,
which was loud, flashy and sparkly. Meaning the opposite of Courtney. She had
only three dresses—the ones she wore to church before her mom had started
drinking so much that she was too hungover on Sunday morning to drive them.
Hopefully one of those would be acceptable to wear to dinner. The nicest
restaurants she’d been to were Applebee’s and Macaroni Grill, and she suspected
the ones in the Diamond were a few steps above those.

She took off the flowery blue dress and replaced it with a pink
one that had white lace on the top and bottom. She normally wore this dress with
a jacket, and the spaghetti straps made it the most revealing one she owned even
though it fell two inches above her knee.

Would it be acceptable to wear to a fancy dinner and a club in
Las Vegas? She had no idea. But she did know that her flip-flops weren’t going
to fly. Flip-flops were pretty much all she owned, though. She was already
taller than most of the guys in her grade, so wearing heels made her feel like a
clumsy giraffe. Then there was the practical issue that heels
hurt.
It didn’t make sense to wear shoes that
blistered her feet when flip-flops were a more comfortable solution.

She studied her reflection and sighed. No way did she look
ready to go to a fancy dinner. She needed Savannah’s help. Savannah studied
fashion magazines and was great at finding similar-looking items for practical
prices.

She headed to Savannah’s room for advice, amazed at the
magnificence of the condo as she walked through it. Was this real? She felt like
an intruder, unable to shake the feeling that the actual person who lived there
would walk in at any second and ask her what she thought she was doing snooping
around somewhere she didn’t belong.

In their apartment in California, the furniture had been
crammed together, the rooms dark and dreary. Here, the windows overlooking the
Las Vegas Strip let in tons of sun, the ceilings were fifteen feet high and
everything inside sparkled like it was brand-new. It was so airy and spacious,
with furniture that looked too expensive to use without worrying about messing
it up. She couldn’t believe she would be living here. That she
was
living here.

Then she realized she was acting like Savannah—so enamored with
their new life that she could forget everything she’d left behind. Hopefully
their mother was doing well in rehab. Her throat tightened at the thought. She
missed the days before her mom had started drinking all the time. She remembered
one Saturday night in particular, when their mom had stayed up with them for
hours watching a DVD of Savannah’s favorite CW television show. They’d ordered
in pizza, and their mom had used her curling iron to style their hair, pinning
them into elaborate updos they could have worn to prom.

Their mom had always drunk more than other people’s parents,
but before she’d lost her job, she’d managed to go a few days at a time without
getting trashed. That’s when they would have fun nights like that, when they
felt like a normal family. But that had stopped in the past year. As their mom’s
drinking spiraled, it had made her look sick on the outside, too—she’d gained
weight, her eyes, which used to be bright blue, became glassy and bloodshot with
puffy dark circles beneath them, the skin on her face had turned wrinkly and red
and her dark blond hair had become dull and limp. As hard as it was, Courtney
knew rehab was the best choice. Once their mom got better, they would have that
other woman in their lives all the time—the one who watched TV with them and
fixed their hair like they were about to attend a magnificent ball. If that were
possible, it was worth enduring a few weeks, or even months, in Las Vegas.

Courtney blinked away tears and knocked on Savannah’s door. The
radio blared from inside, and Savannah was singing along, as if she didn’t have
a care in the world. She had a beautiful voice—it was too bad she was terrified
to sing in public. Her dreams of being a famous singer would never come true if
she didn’t get over her stage fright. But no matter how much Courtney encouraged
her by complimenting her talent, Savannah insisted she was only saying those
things because she was her sister.

“Come in!” Savannah yelled, lowering the volume as Courtney
walked inside.

Savannah stood in front of the mirrored wall, admiring the
flowy aqua dress she had on, which was short enough to be a long shirt. The high
waistband reminded Courtney of the style popular in the Regency era, and the
V-neckline dropped low, but not so low that it looked inappropriate on a
fifteen-year-old. Not that Savannah had much in the upper region to show
off.

“Hey,” Savannah said, as she attempted to tease her hair. “I
wish we had time to go shopping before dinner—I had the hardest time picking out
what to wear tonight. I can’t wait to get a new wardrobe.”

“What about the stuff you like?” Courtney asked. “You’re not
going to get rid of it, are you?”

“I’ll find stuff I like better.” Savannah plucked a tube of
pink lip gloss from her vanity and leaned closer to the mirror to apply it. “Now
that we can buy what we want, it doesn’t make sense to shop at big discount
stores anymore. It’ll be great to get real designer clothes instead of
imitations.”

Courtney didn’t like how Savannah was so willing to leave her
old life behind. “I can help you go through your clothes so you can decide what
to keep,” she suggested, since Savannah wouldn’t get through such a meticulous
task without Courtney sitting by her side to keep her focused. “Then we’ll find
the local Goodwill and donate what you don’t want.”

“Good idea,” Savannah said. “Let’s go shopping this week, and
when we’re done you can help me sort through my stuff.”

Courtney nodded, although she hoped Savannah wasn’t going to go
too crazy with buying things. Then she remembered why she was here. “Do you
think this looks okay?” she asked, motioning to her dress. “I usually wear it
with a sweater.”

Savannah stepped back and examined Courtney’s outfit, raising
her index finger to her chin like this was the most important assessment in the
world. “It’s fine, and you definitely don’t need the sweater,” she finally said.
“We’re going to dinner in Vegas—not church at home. And flip-flops? Really?
Please tell me you weren’t actually thinking of wearing those. I’ll find
something else.” She ran to Courtney’s room, coming back a minute later holding
the pair of shiny white pumps she’d forced Courtney to buy at a clearance sale
at Payless last year. Courtney had tossed them into the back of her closet, so
they were still brand-new. “These would be much better.”

Courtney put them on and looked into the mirror. She hated the
extra height, but Savannah was right. The white pumps transformed the dress. “I
guess it does make a big difference,” she said, practicing walking a few
unsteady steps. Hopefully her feet wouldn’t be covered in blisters by the end of
the night.

“More than that!” Savannah insisted. “It makes you look like a
supermodel. Anyway, what’d you think of Damien? He’s hot, right?”

Courtney shivered at the memory of the conversation they’d had
with him earlier. They hadn’t talked with him for long, but she’d gotten a bad
vibe from him. He seemed too...smooth. It was rare for someone that attractive
and overconfident to have good intentions. Courtney wasn’t an expert with
guys—she’d never had a boyfriend—but the way he’d eyed Savannah when he’d
mentioned seeing her tonight unnerved her. She didn’t want Savannah getting in
over her head with him.

“He’s attractive,” she said. “But you need to be careful. The
guys here aren’t like the ones in Fairfield.”

“What do you mean?” Savannah asked.

“There’s just something about him I don’t trust.”

“Well, I thought he seemed nice.” Savannah picked up her
straightener from the vanity and ran it through her hair. “And you don’t know
him, so it isn’t fair of you to judge him.”

“It’s just a vibe I got,” Courtney said.

“You and your vibes.” Savannah rolled her eyes. “But he seemed
into me, right?”

“He was giving you more attention than Peyton or me,” she said
truthfully.

“Good,” Savannah said. “I thought so, too, but I wanted to make
sure. I hope he doesn’t have a girlfriend. But it didn’t seem like it from the
way he was talking to us. I mean, he was practically asking me out. Don’t you
think?”

The doorbell rang before Courtney could respond. She’d have to
deal with Savannah’s infatuation with Damien later—preferably after she gathered
more evidence of how he was not the type of guy that Savannah, or any girl with
self-respect, should swoon over.

“Omigod.” Savannah dropped the straightener down on the vanity,
her eyes wide as she looked at Courtney in the mirror. “That has to be him.”

Courtney’s stomach swirled, the morning’s anxiety returning.
She wrapped her arms around herself and took a few deep breaths to calm down. It
didn’t work. She felt more nervous than ever.

“You ready?” she asked.

Savannah nodded, and together, they gathered enough courage to
walk out of the room. Courtney wanted to grab her sister’s hand for support, but
she didn’t want to seem like she couldn’t handle the situation and was panicking
about meeting her father.

Her father. It sounded so strange.

Peyton walked into the foyer at the same time as Courtney and
Savannah. She was wearing one of her signature “going out” outfits—a short
leather skirt, a tight black tank and stiletto knee-high boots. Normally
Courtney would suggest she put on a jacket to make the outfit less provocative,
but now they had something bigger to worry about. The three of them looked at
each other, and Courtney knew the wide-eyed anxiety and straight-lipped worry on
her sisters’ faces were mirrored on her own. Their lives were about to change
forever, and she didn’t feel close to ready.

She stepped forward to open the door, but the handle moved
before she got a chance, and it swung open.

A man walked through, and there was no doubt he was their
father. His medium blond hair was clean-cut, and his eyes were the same blue as
theirs. And he was tall. The navy suit he wore and his strong, high cheekbones
made him look like an aristocrat from an old movie who knew what he wanted and
the right way to get it.

“Peyton, Courtney, and Savannah,” he said, looking at each of
them as he said their names. “Did I get it right?”

Courtney nodded, unsure how to reply. “Hi” felt too casual. Her
mouth went dry, and she swallowed again, trying to think of something to
say.

“You all look just like your pictures.” He glanced at the table
in the foyer and ran his fingers over the glass surface. “I see you got your
credit cards. Good. Have fun with them, but don’t do anything too extreme.” He
walked through the foyer, his black leather shoes tapping against the marble
floor. “I’m Adrian Diamond.” He cleared his throat. “Your father. Although I
suppose you’ve figured that out already.” He laughed, but it wasn’t enough to
take away the heavy awkwardness in the air. “Welcome to your new home. I trust
everything is to your liking?”

Courtney had a million things she wanted to say to him, but she
felt useless. It was like the world was spinning out of control, and she
couldn’t figure out how to make it steady again.

“We did get our credit cards.” Peyton stared him down. “And
then I threw mine in the trash.”

“Really?” Adrian actually chuckled, even though Peyton was
still giving him a hate-glare. “Why would you do that?”

“She didn’t really throw it in the trash,” Savannah chimed in.
“Well, she did, but nothing else was in there and I rescued it.”

“Good to know.” He still had an amused smile on his face, which
Courtney guessed wasn’t the reaction Peyton had been expecting. “If you don’t
want your credit card, that’s your choice—I don’t mind if you toss it in the
back of a drawer in your room—but they can’t be thrown away due to security
reasons.”

Peyton set her jaw and didn’t respond.

“It was kind of you to give them to us.” It was the best thing
Courtney could think to add to the conversation. “We’ll use them as responsibly
as possible, and only for emergencies.”

“That’s very mature of you, Courtney,” he said, and while she
shouldn’t have wanted to earn the respect of the man who had abandoned her and
her sisters, she felt proud of his approval. “But you can use your credit card
for whatever you’d like—as long as you don’t do anything too extreme, like buy a
yacht or charter the jet around the world. You’ll have to ask permission before
doing anything like that. But most everything else—shopping, food, spa days or
whatever else you want—is fair game.”