Page 62 of Such Sharp Teeth

I do not think she will like it.

A few of Scarlett’s friends arrive shy of one o’clock. Some I’ve met before, people she’s known since college and coworkers. The people I haven’t met marvel at how alike we look.

I get the sense that everyone is nervous. There’s tension in the room. Usually, I’m impervious to tension. I’ve been known to enjoy watching people squirm. But this is different.

I get a whiff of something, and it clicks.

I can smell it. I can smell their sweat. Their uneasiness. Their dread.

I sniff.

Yep. It’s so pungent, I can almost taste it.

These people all know Scarlett, and they know. This isn’t her kind of thing.

“Kill me now,” whispers a voice at my ear.

It takes me a second to identify the voice as something outside of myself, to distinguish it from my own cynical inner monologue.

It’s Mia. She wears a zebra-print miniskirt and a low-cut white blouse that ties up the front. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail that falls straight down her back, sways as she moves, a swish of bright blond. She looks both stunning and stunningly out of place.

Bet Scarlett will be thrilled.

“Hey,” I say. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t mean it the way it sounds. She takes it in stride.

“Ashley is such a doll,” she says, adjusting the clasp of her necklace, a black leather choker. She sports a fresh manicure that matches her zebra skirt. “She was probably just being nice, inviting me. Then I felt obligated.”

She shrugs and looks around. “Regretting my decision now. I’m bored already. Mimosa?”

“Please.”

“She’s pulling up!” Ash says. “Hide in the dining room.”

Mia and I lock eyes. I watch her take a bottle of champagne and slip it behind her back.

“I don’t know if jumping out and shouting ‘Surprise!’ at someone seven months pregnant is a great idea,” I say.

“We won’t shout,” Ash says.

Is it too late for me to leave and, if confronted, claim ignorance?

The front door opens.

“Surprise!” Ash shouts.

The friends come filtering out of the dining room.

Scarlett’s face drains of color.

“Welcome to your baby shower!” Mom says, throwing her arms around Scarlett’s shoulders in a chaotic hug.

“What?” Scarlett asks. Her eyes find me, and I mouth, Sorry.

“Come in, come in,” Ash says, leading Scarlett into the kitchen.

“What’s happening?” she asks, still looking at me.