Page 30 of The Debutantes
10PIPER
DECEMBER 31, 8:30P.M.
So far, this party is going exactly as expected. Or should I say,so far, so drunk? Which is, for all intents and purposes, a good thing. Drunk people are more likely to tell the truth. Not that my target ever really gets wasted—Aiden Ortiz is far too responsible for that, which would be more relevant if I could actually find him.
I check the living room, dining room, and the sunroom at the back of the house, where Dad is stationed with a thick Alexander Hamilton biography and a glass of whiskey, tuning out the group of Deus dads reminiscing about their time as Dukes way back in the day. Seeing me in the doorway, he lifts his glass in a weary salute. I give one back before swiftly extracting myself.
On my way back down the hall, Vivian comes out of the kitchen, so quickly I stop in my tracks. Seems like I startle her, too, because she visibly flinches.
“How’s it going?” I ask, trying not to linger on the fact that she’s so clearly unhappy to see me.
“Fine,” she says. “Nothing new from Jason. I’m heading to the bathroom.”
With that, she speeds away. I’m about to demand more details when I clock my target in the living room—charming a cluster of moms, of course, like he deliberately placed himself there to piss me off. Gritting my teeth, I make my way over, catching the word “Stanford” at least twice as I approach. Maybe if someone says it a third time, a Silicon Valley billionaire in a T-shirt and sandals will appear in the reflection of their champagne glasses.
“Hi, Mrs. Fontaine. Mrs. Kimball. I hope y’all are enjoying the party,” I say, flashing a smile as I dig my fingers into Aiden’s arm. “Can I steal him for a second?”
“Of course, dear. Don’t let us monopolize him.” Mrs. Fontaine gives Aiden an adoring wink. “Tell your mom she’s done a wonderful job, as always.”
“Thank you, I will. And Eugenie looked gorgeous last night. She’s a perfect model for Mom’s dresses.” I grin, just like Mom did at her from across the ballroom, moments after calling her husband an insufferable ass.
I haul Aiden through the living room without releasing his arm.
“Are we onThe Bachelor?” he asks.
“What?”
“‘Can I steal him for a second?’ It’s a classic line.”
“I’m sorry, do you watchThe Bachelor?”
“I contain multitudes.”
“Yeah, multitudes of shit.”
We’re stopped in the foyer now, which is practically empty.
“Okay, so why’d you drag me over here?” Aiden asks. “Because I was really winning those moms over with my charm and witty repartee.”
“I need you to tell me about the ball,” I say.
We’ve wasted enough time. Might as well get to it.
Aiden frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Did you throw the blood at Lily?”
He tenses, all of that irritating ease suddenly gone from his posture. “Whoa, what? I told you before, I didn’t—”
“If it wasn’t you, then who was it? I know you saw something.”
I’m going a little too hard with this interrogation, and it doesn’t seem to be working. Lines crinkle around Aiden’s eyes, and I’d almost think he was concerned, if I thought him capable of the feeling.
“Piper, is something else going on?”
I cross my arms. “Lily’s missing.”
He lets out a breath, eyes falling to the floor. “Yeah, I heard.”
