As Sean stalks off to impress people with his name, I tug at Emmett, slightly worried about our next move. “We’re not walking through that, are we?”
“We don’t have to,” Emmett says.
I sigh with relief. Emmett leads me through a narrow side path I didn’t see when we came out of the house.
“Did the party planner rob a sperm bank?” I ask.
“What?”
“That…” I gesture at the mess under the arch. “That stuff. The smell.”
“Oh.” He shakes his head, wrinkling his nose. “It’s some kind of starch solution mixed with chestnut pollen. Chestnut flowers have a very distinctive scent.”
“Well! Learn something new every day.”
“Yeah. Dad’s a guy who can teach you many things.”
Emmett looks at me, and I give him a smile like I’m perfectly fine. This party is probably sedate by Hollywood standards. Besides, the arch setup might not have been Emmett’s dad’s idea. One of the guests—some wild, coke-snorting director or producer—could’ve brought it in for “fun” and Emmett’s dad didn’t want to upset them by turning it down. I shouldn’t make assumptions.
The path takes us to the other side of the pool. A buffet is laid out with lobster, shrimp, steak and more, with everything cut into bite-size pieces and skewered on bamboo picks. Seven fountains are set up. From the way they smell, they’re all laced with strong alcohol.
“Want something to drink?” Emmett asks.
“Yeah, sure. Water would be great.”
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“There won’t be any water out here. Let me see if I can go find some.” He looks around. “You, ah, going to be okay on your own?”
I don’t want to make a big deal about how bothered I am by the party setup. His dad is a Hollywood guy, and this sort of public display is probably something I’ll just have to tolerate. He’ll probably turn out to be a nice man with lots of positive attributes once I get to know him better. “I’ll be fine.”
Emmett talks to somebody manning the drink station, then walks away.
Trying to act cool, like attending this kind of Hollywood bash is something I do every weekend, I stand by the table and study the people. About half of them are dancing, gyrating against each other. The other half are standing around with drinks in their hands and chatting. I look for Emmett’s dad—I know what he looks like from publicity pictures—but can’t spot him. He’s probably surrounded by friends and colleagues. I should wait for Emmett to make an introduction to avoid any awkward misunderstandings, in case his dad assumes I’m a wannabe actress or something.
“Hey, want to try the lemonade?” a bleached blonde says. Her dark roots show a little as she flips her hair.
“Where is it?” Holding a drink would give me something to do with my hands.
“Right there.” She gestures at one of the fountains. “Sarah makes the best lemonade. Want a sip of mine?” She moves her clear plastic cup closer to me.
The waft of alcohol is so strong that I can’t smell any lemon. “No, thanks.”
“You sure? Bummer.” She frowns, then brightens. “You can try the cherry-ade, then.”
I’d bet my degree that that’s heavily laced with alcohol as well. “I’m okay. Really.”
“Okay. So who are you? I haven’t seen you around,” she says.
“This is my first time at Ted’s birthday party.”
She looks at me, up and down, but not unkindly. More like confused—maybe trying to pin me down. “I don’t remember seeing you elsewhere, either. Are you new? You haven’t done anything, have you?”
I’ve gotten an MBA, worked for a major investment bank and am working at a venture capital firm, but my gut says that isn’t what she’s referring to. “Probably not.”
She pats my arm. “Everyone has to wait for their moment.”
“That’s true.”