The Lies They Tell by Gillian French

Author:Gillian French
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2018-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

WHITE JAPANESE LANTERNS hung in a luminous solar system above the front walkway and gardens of the club. Nets of twinkle lights glimmered on the hedges, and every window was lit. A banner reading Tenney’s Harbor Club: One Hundred Years hung across the porch, and Pearl could already hear big band music drifting across the front lawn as they parked.

She and Bridges joined the couples walking arm in arm toward the entrance. She hadn’t expected this sudden grip of anxiety, entering the club for the first time without the anonymity of her uniform and station. She and Bridges were on display together, and the doorman’s gaze rested on her, knowing her face if not her name as he said, “Good evening, Mr. Spencer. Miss,” and let them pass.

The lobby was swarming, people having their photos taken in front of a centennial backdrop, stopping to greet friends before going through the ballroom door, the air charged with energy. When they entered the ballroom, Pearl’s eyes were dazzled by light. Gradually, dozens of white Japanese lanterns solidified in her vision like ghost orbs, drifting among the tulle canopy strung across the ceiling.

Everything was black, white, and silver, the room itself resembling one of the old ballroom photographs from the corridor, allowing the ladies’ dresses to provide the color: scarlet, turquoise, peach. Servers were dressed in black tie, both men and women; Pearl noticed Indigo moving through the crowd with her serving tray held high, dressed in a fitted tuxedo shirt, bow tie at her throat.

Bridges took Pearl’s hand as they cut through the crowd, people hobnobbing with drinks, shrilling laughter, some watching them pass with momentary interest before spotting somebody else they recognized.

Bridges put his lips close to her ear. “Insane, huh?” She nodded, releasing a breath, and he laughed, leading the way through the tables. He rapped his knuckles on one as they passed, where a group of summer kids had congregated, eating hors d’oeuvres and looking supremely bored. Quinn and Hadley sat there, Quinn in a body-hugging strapless dress, cozied up to a big guy Pearl vaguely recognized from around the club, a linebacker type with short-buzzed hair. Hadley wore teal, a pink rose tucked behind her ear, her chin resting on her fist as she watched the crowd. “Hey, ladies,” Bridges said.

Quinn slid her hand to cover the linebacker’s and said flatly, “If you’re looking for the idiot, he’s over there.” She indicated a nearby table occupied mostly by adults, where Akil lounged with his chair pushed out from the table, people casting him annoyed looks as they were forced to squeeze by.

“Oh my God, dude, where have you been?” Akil wore a sport coat over a T-shirt, baggy tuxedo pants, and white athletic sneakers right out of the box.

Bridges raised his eyebrows. “They let you in like that?”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Akil’s father spoke, his voice smooth and faintly accented. He slowly turned a flute of champagne on the tabletop. “I see that your friends managed to dress themselves properly for the evening.

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