Darlings? Aliiice? Where are you?” Sonia Khan whined into her BlackBerry. “Ring me as soon as you get this. I’m waiting.”
Muffled beats emanated into the street from George Demetrios’s Mayfair mansion, where she’d been loitering like a friendless loser for five whole minutes. No doubt the music was loud inside, but the Demetrios family’s thick, soundproofed walls strangled it before it could piss off any of their eminent neighbors.
A Porsche roared past, blowing its exhaust on Sonia, and she tutted in indignation. She’d come straight from school this evening because, unlike Alice and Tally, she’d had actual, important work to do planning every last detail of Pashminas to the Rescue. The show was exactly two weeks away now and Sonia was determined for it to be the event of the school year. Not trusting the other girls on the charity committee, she had personally booked the auditorium, drawn up a guest list of parents and Hasted House boys, ordered the flowers and crepe paper for decoration, and handed instructions for refreshments to the caterers.
And Alice couldn’t even be on time for a party. Sonia knew whose fault that was: Tally’s. Selfish cow, always making everybody late. Why should she wait around for them?
She rang the bell. After a minute, George Demetrios flung open the door.
“Sonia! My angel,” he cried, his eyes going straight to her cleavage before he kissed her clumsily on both cheeks.
“Careful! My nose,” Sonia said, curling her fingers round it protectively.
“Your schnozz looks hot, darling. It’s a real beauty.”
George had done five shots of his parents’ shockingly pricey Rodnik vodka and was looking sloshed. His pink check shirt, hanging out of his jeans, had a few too many buttons undone and Sonia found herself transfixed by his notorious forestlike chest.
At that moment the Wyndham-Rhodes sisters, both wearing hot pants, scurried over shaking bottles of Dom Pérignon. They were students at Malbury Hall, a prestigious school about an hour’s drive from St. Cecilia’s.
“Oh Sonia darling, how lovely to see you!” drawled Olivia. “Mwah. Mwah.”
“You’re looking fab,” echoed Melissa, steadying herself against the wall.
“So are you,” Sonia said. “I just adore those feathers in your hair, Messy. You’re such a clever thing.”
“Blah blah blah.” George draped one arm round each of the sisters and beckoned to Sonia. “Come on, you three. None of you are nearly hammered enough. I know where there’s a stash of tequila.”
“But we have champagne, you devil.”
“Rubbish! You need something stronger than that.”
Sonia watched them lurch backward like an ungainly six-legged goat. She wasn’t about to follow. Messy and Livs were not only beautiful but also incredibly stupid, and she couldn’t compete with that lethal combination.
She surveyed the place for allies. The ground floor was buzzing with people: Bathsheba Fortnum was pulling her skirt down to show her new tattoo to Gerald Coombes, Flossy Norstrup-Fitzwilliam and Jamie Darlington were chasing each other round a giant antique urn, Oliver Rylands was prancing about in eyeliner and the Spandex Batman outfit that he’d taken to wearing to parties. And there was Mimah Calthorpe de Vyle-Hanswicke, flirting with horsey-looking Freddie Frye. Sonia started to walk over to them, then remembered that was out of the question. They weren’t friends with Mimah anymore.
She stood twisting her handbag awkwardly for a few seconds. Across the room, Seb, Jas, and a cute boy she didn’t recognize were watching YouTube videos on someone’s phone. She clopped toward them over an ornate floor mosaic depicting Poseidon, the Greek god of the ocean, heaving a schooner out of a stormy sea. It was meant to be a tribute to the Demetrios shipping fortune.
“Well hello, boys,” Sonia said, with a catlike smile. “Which one of you is going to make me a drink?”
“I’ll take care of that,” Seb answered. He always liked to get involved where booze was concerned. “What’ll you have? Wine? Champagne? G and T?”
“A white wine, thank you, sweetie.” Sonia kissed him on the cheek, giggling as a bit of her lip gloss rubbed off. As she leaned in to wipe it away, she realized how sexy Seb looked tonight. He was wearing a flattering gray V-neck sweater and his face was plastered with that sweetly baffled expression that appeared whenever he was drunk. Seb was watching her and blushing. But before Sonia had time to wonder why, someone grabbed her elbow.
“Are you with Alice?” Tristan asked. He looked pale.
Sonia glared at him. “Oh, how charming. Nice to see you, too.”
“Whatever. Seriously, is Alice here?”
“Of course I am,” a voice behind them said.