“To all these beautiful rich bastards... I have something to say for my best friend!”
Time froze. Eyeballs pivoted. Glasses paused mid-air. Conversations died like roaches at a fumigation conference.
Jynelle staggered center stage, champagne in one hand, heels doing the Lord’s most dangerous balancing act.
“Scarlett,” she slurred with the affection of a drunk Shakespearean fairy. “Is in love....!”
She didn't finish. Her knees buckled. Her eyes rolled halfway up. And with the grace of a knocked-out piñata, she pitched forward.
Gasps echoed. I lunged… but Billy, the billionaire she’d been draped over all night, caught her like a Greek god with a trust fund and a savior complex. He scooped her up bridal-style like this was some deranged wedding, nodded at me, and whispered, “She needs a
