Shay ran her fingers along the leather armrest of the passenger seat. "I know I've said this a few times, but I love this car." For the tenth time, she finished her declaration by tugging the hem of the tight black dress farther down her thighs.

She caught my smile. "What's so funny?"

"I just think it's cute how you keep modestly pulling down that hem when I've seen you naked and spread wide in the shower. And may I just add that it was the best non-contact shower sex I've ever had."

"Thank you. I rather enjoyed it myself." Without thinking, she tugged at the dress again and then grunted in frustration. "I don't know why I keep doing that. I think I'm just nervous. I've never crashed a party before."

I pulled my eyes from the line of traffic and looked at her. "The way you confidently suggested the idea, I thought you had a lot of crashing experience."

"Me?" Her silky hair shimmered as she shook her head. "Nope. I never needed to crash one because, unlike you, I always get the invite."

"Very funny, miss popular. I'll bet you were every guy's high school crush. I would have been sneaking glances at you from behind my locker door if you'd been at my school." She looked over at me and I nodded. "Yes, that sounded creepy once I said it out loud. My dad actually pulled me out of my exclusive private school because I wanted to go to a dance." I turned toward the off-ramp.

"Jeez, that would be comical if it weren't so darn awful."

"Yep. While my few friends were stealing second base behind the gymnasium, I was stuck learning chemistry and French from Mr. Tuttle, a man who was as smart as he was boring."

I glanced at her again. It was always a challenge not to look at Shay. "By the way, that little black dress was the perfect choice for tonight. I was going to tell you to put on the red, sequined mini but you were right." I turned onto the long road that led up to the Peyton estate.

"Yes, the quintessential black dress. It's the perfect choice when you want to stand out but you don't want to stand out."

"All I know is that you're going to stand out in this crowd no matter what you're wearing."

"Why, thank you. See, now I'm less nervous." Shay looked through the window as we traveled past multi-million dollar estates, some with front lawns as big as parks and facades as ornate and elegant as museums. She sat back and tugged the dress again. "Or at least I was until I saw the neighborhood. Something tells me they won't be serving potato chips with onion dip and little wieners on the end of a toothpick."

"Probably not but you might just wish they were after you try some of the exotic, weird crap rich people consider party fare."

Shay leaned over to the box of hastily printed business cards I'd placed on the floor. I still needed a logo but at least I'd be able to get the business name out there. She pulled some cards out and pushed them into her clutch purse. "Now I can hand some cards out too. Anything for my boyfriend. " She spun slightly to the side to look at me. "Should we come up with some cute pet names. You know like Cutie Cupcake and Gummy Bear? You're Gummy Bear, of course."

I laughed. "I think we could just stick with names." I turned up the long driveway. "Shit, they have valet parking. I hate letting those goobers drive this car." I stopped and backed out onto the road. "I'll park it myself, and we can walk up the driveway." I could sense Shay staring at the side of my face. "What?"

She lifted her foot just enough to remind me that she had worn the black spiked heels that had been part of her Fantasm costume.

"Lady, I've seen you dance like a prima ballerina in those stilts. I think you can handle a short hike. Or I can pull up and let you out by the house."

"No, that's all right. Besides, the walk will let me work up my courage for the party. I only wish I had a strong arm to hang onto during the walk," she teased.

"Hmm, I forgot about the non-touch clause. Hopefully people won't notice." I only briefly considered declaring a truce from the contract, but something told me, once I touched Shay's hand or arm or placed a proprietary hand on the small of her back, there would be no stopping.

Shiny, expensive cars lined both sides of the long driveway which was lit by thousands of twinkling lights hung in the jacaranda trees bordering the path. It was a warm fall night and the moon was a thick wedge of yellow as it glowed down over the city.

"What's my story going to be?" Shay asked excitedly. "How about if I'm an exotic princess from a faraway land."

"Do you know many exotic foreign lands?"

That question softened her enthusiasm for the idea. "I need some kind of story. If a lot of people know you inside, they're going to ask where I've been all this time."

I nodded. "Good point. How about you are a professional dancer who has been traveling in Europe this last year and we've been meeting up whenever we both had time. And now you're back in the states to finish your master's degree."

Shay's steps slowed and the slightest frown appeared. "That's who you wish you were walking in with, isn't it? The professional dancer with a college degree. I feel extra awkward now."

"Hey, you are a professional dancer. Even if you haven't been dancing in Europe. And as I recall, you just finished a summer quarter in college."

"Fine. Guess that makes me feel a smidgen better about myself."

I stopped. She took a few extra steps before noticing. She looked back at me with an expectant gaze.

"Shay, you are going to be more beautiful and more amazing and more charming than any other person at this party."

Her brown eyes glittered. "Yes, I will because I will be on the arm of the business world's newest rock star, DNA."

Fortified by our personal pep talks, we finished the hike up the driveway and reached the front of the mansion.

A handful of people mingled around the fountain in front of the house, a few I recognized and a few I didn't. It seemed most of the guests were in the house or out on the back veranda. An oversized guy dressed in a stark black suit and a shirt collar that seemed to be strangling his thick neck stood midway on the marble steps with a clipboard.

I leaned my head over. "I didn't realize they'd have someone checking for invitations. Maybe we can climb a fence," I said with a laugh. "Or maybe I can bullshit the guy. He looks sort of stupid."

"Good evening." I placed my hand behind as if leading Shay along up the steps, but I kept my palm an inch away.

The invite checker's eyes went straight to Shay. It took some effort for him to refocus on his task. He glanced at the clipboard. "Name?"

"David Nash Archer," I said confidently. As he perused the list, I tried to come up with an excuse about why he couldn't find it. He placed his finger along the edge of the clipboard and dragged it down. "The list is alphabetical, and I don't see it at the top."

"Maybe it's under Nash. That's what most of the people around here call me." I snuck a shoulder shrug at Shay, letting her know I was out of ideas.

Shay placed her hand over her mouth to suppress a fake giggle. "This is so embarrassing," she said sweetly. Invite man watched with undivided interest as Shay gracefully and quickly climbed the three steps to where he was standing. She braced her hand on his big shoulder, hopped up to reach his ear and leaned in to whisper something. His face showed that it was the best fucking thing to happen to him all night. A smile broke through his stony expression.

"Of course, go right ahead."

Shay glanced back and motioned for me to follow her up the steps.

He hardly gave me a second glance as I walked past. But he took the time to watch Shay climb the rest of the steps. I reached her side. "What did you say to him? Or do I want to know?"

"I just told him I drank three glasses of wine on the way over, and I badly needed a trip to the little girl's room."

I stared at the side of her face as we walked through the massive entry to the mansion. "Kiddo, if you could bottle whatever it is that makes you you, then you'd be a fucking billionaire."

---

The Peytons were the type of people Dad liked to refer to as show-off rich. Every corner of the city-sized family compound was filled with furniture and art that was worth more than the average family made in a year. Whenever I was in a place like the Peyton mansion, I had to concur with my dad that for the most part too many possessions just made you stupid and shallow. Of course, I wasn't sure what that said for people like my dad who had money in the bank collecting interest and dust and doing nothing to move along the economy.