Page 46 of The Debutantes
“The chance of you falling?”
“No, Vanderbilt’s acceptance rate.”
“Great. Then buck up and climb over, genius.”
She says it like it’s that simple, and I guess it is—or it has to be. I slide off my shoes and hand them carefully to April on the other side. Then I hike up my dress and grip the railing, swinging one leg over. Vivian reaches out to steady me as I pull myself to the other side. For a nauseatingly weightless moment, I’m suspended—and then, finally, I touch solid ground.
“Hell yeah!” Vivian claps, and I can’t ignore the little fizz of pride in my chest. “Now let’s get out of here.”
The victorious feeling fades quickly as I realize I’m still barefoot on a random French Quarter balcony. Sliding my shoes back on, I try not to think about the multitudes of diseases no doubt crawling on every surface and focus instead on the building we’ve escaped to. This balcony is long, wrapping around the side of the building. Another bar, I’m assuming, from the low lighting and live music pulsing through the open door.
We hustle inside and toward the stairs, past a few patrons who throw us vaguely interested glances before returning to their drinks. Itisthe French Quarter on New Year’s, I guess—three terrified girls dressed for a masquerade, and we probably don’t even crack the top five weirdest things these people have seen today.
As we descend, the music gets louder. There’s a band on the first floor, cranking out jazz standards to a crowd who’s probably been this drunk—andvocal—for hours. We push our waythrough, and I nearly collide with a woman as her partner spins her around, her hot-pink wig nearly tipping off her head.
“Happy New Year’s, dawlin’!” Her New Orleans accent is as thick as the bunch of silver beads around her neck. She takes one off and hands it to me, and I close my hand around the charm emblazoned with the new year. “Y’all look gorgeous!”
I manage a thanks as we hustle past and toward the door, the word catching in my throat. It’s such a typical New Orleans interaction, carefree and a little ridiculous, that it makes the rest of tonight feel even more wrong by comparison. Even as we step out into the street, the air feels too hot and close.
The Jester isn’t just a name on a message anymore. He’s someone who followed us.Chasedus. And that place… I thought I knew how to operate in a place like the Pierrot—somewhere women are meant to be quiet and pretty, to follow orders with a smile. My mom taught me how to turn it into a superpower: how to swallow down the anger and shape it into a sugarcoatedbless your heart.How to follow the rules so well, the assholes in charge don’t even notice when I’ve made them work in my favor.
But we still weren’t safe in there.
Was Margot?
Was Lily?
We all know how hard it is to keep a body underground in this city.
The Jester’s threat reverberates through my head as we walk, and with every click of my heels on the grimy street, I’m more afraid I know the answer.
16VIVIAN
JANUARY 1, 1:50A.M.
The Pierrot is almost four blocks behind us when Milford finally shows up.
“Hey!” He jogs over, a Lagniappe Land tote bag on his shoulder, and I actually laugh. Does the cult give out party favors? He also looks pissed, and it’s really hard to take a man seriously when he’s holding a tote bag.
But then I remember the kind of men we just saw in there, and I don’t feel like laughing anymore.
“Where have y’all been?” Milford demands, catching up to us. “You can’t just disappear like that in there. I was—”
“Is that our stuff?” Piper cuts him off, nodding at the bag.
He frowns. “You didn’t answer my—”
“Hand it over,” she snaps. “We need to gonow.”
Milford doesn’t argue, probably still afraid Piper’s going to whip out another glass of water. He hands us our street clothes and, thank god, our phones.
“Those dresses have to go back. Like, ASAP,” he says. “I’ll get shit from them if they’re missing.”
I laugh again.
“What?” Milford scowls.
I don’t know how to explain it. Lily wasthere.She knew about the Pierrot, and she never told me. She might have been in danger, and she never asked for my help, and now she’s missing, and all Milford cares about is getting the ball gowns back. And now I can’t keep it in anymore.
