A Night In The Hills
Hours later, Leah still hasn’t processed the blowup. She’s been running on autopilot, pretending the humiliation didn’t stick, and now, in the quiet of Daphne’s room, it’s getting harder to keep up the act.
Damaged goods. She’d walked out like it meant nothing, but the rage has been simmering all day. Now she finally lets herself feel it. Just a little. Through the curl of lingering vape smoke, she watches Daphne at the vanity, tapping highlighter along her cheekbones.
“You ever done G?” she asks, catching Leah’s eye in the mirror with a mischievous grin. “You’ll like it.”
Leah sinks back into the velvet couch with a shrug. “Why not? After today, bad choices sound like the right idea.”
Suddenly, Daphne’s across the room, tipping something clear into Leah’s glass. Then, using an Amex Black, she drags a neat white line across the table, inhales immediately, flicks her hair back, and snatches up her phone—
“Hi, we need a car. Marks account. 222 Corpse Flower. ETA? Okay, hurry.”
Seconds later, she’s back at the vanity, puckering at herself in the mirror, eyes narrowing. “Remind me why Wendy’s forcing herself into our ride?”
“Because she’s performing empathy,” Leah scoffs. “She thinks inviting me to this thing was an act of charity.”
“Well, you’re my guest. And she’s hitching my ride.”
“Yup. That’s Wendy.” Leah exhales, more tired than bitter. “She’s a bitch and a leech.”
She takes a sip and nearly spits it out. “Ew! What is that?”
“GHB, silly.”
Leah grimaces, shaking her head. “I hope the high’s better than the taste.”
The SUV snakes up into the hills, headlights carving through the dark. Wendy sits in the back, angled toward the window, arms folded tight as she watches the glittering city below, tuning out Leah and Daphne’s laughter from the seats ahead.
“I know, right?” Leah says, rolling her eyes mid-rant. “Every guy I meet in LA drives a G-Wagon to distract from his shitty apartment. Think we’ll meet any real men tonight? With real money?”
“It’s Boots’s event,” Daphne says with a knowing glance. “If they don’t have money, they’ll be hot. Either way, I’m catching some dick.”
“That’s never hard for you.”
“Men fall over themselves, sure.” Daphne takes a slow pull on her vape, exhaling toward the ceiling. “But I still need to decide which ones to step on.”
“Could you two shut up for five goddamn seconds?” Wendy doesn’t bother hiding the eye roll. “And please, enough with the vaping.”
Daphne takes another long drag. Glances over her shoulder. Exhales a thick cloud in Wendy’s face, then coughs.
“Real classy,” Wendy deadpans.
Leah sighs, impatient. She leans toward the window as the SUV rounds the final curve, the house lit up against the hilltop.
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“Thank god,” she mutters to herself. “Looks like we’ve arrived.”
The SUV glides to a stop in the motor court, joining a slow-moving queue of tinted Escalades and sleek Maybachs. Boots presides over the entrance in a cream Jacquemus dress, gold Tom Ford earrings flashing as she scans arrivals like a queen deciding who’s worth her time.
“Welcome, gorgeous,” she purrs, leaning in to air-kiss Daphne as she floats past in black Versace.
Inside, dim light pools beneath chandeliers, catching on flashes of jewelry and champagne. Daphne glides through it all, eyes bright with possibility, while Leah trails behind, already trapped by a guy she thinks she knows, who’s rambling about a “game-changing” project he’s financing. She smiles, pretending to care, but she’s out of step, still too raw from the day she barely survived.
Wendy sees through the gloss. It’s all open warfare. Every air kiss a tactic; every toast, a transaction. She drifts through the crowd, watching who whispers, who watches, who pretends not to.
Then she sees him. Shane.
Of course Boots lured him here. Their eyes catch across the room as he lifts his glass and flashes a grin. Wendy doesn’t react. Just barely nods. Let him think I don’t care.
But his attention’s already drifting. To Daphne, just a few feet away. She’s too high. Her laugh’s too loud. She’s wobbling in her heels, and Shane can see it in her eyes. He tells himself not to get involved. But… she’s not just a friend. She’s my employee.
“What are you doing, Daph?” he asks, following her into the hall. The light catches her just enough to show him what he doesn’t want to see—glassy eyes, a faint dusting smeared beneath her nose.
“Just taking a booster shot. Relax, Shane.”
He reaches out to steady her, but she grabs his wrist and pulls him close. “I’ve been wondering,” she whispers, struggling to hold his gaze. “What’s your policy on fucking employees?”
“Very funny, Daph.”
Before he can react, her lips are on his. Shane jerks back instantly. “Daphne, no. How wasted are you?”
She stumbles, blinking like she’s genuinely shocked to be rejected. And then—
“Everything okay here?”
They both turn. Wendy’s there, framed in the soft glow of the hallway sconces.
“Good chat, Shane,” Daphne says breezily, already walking away.
Wendy steps closer, her voice rising just enough over the music. “Can’t tell if you were playing hero or victim just now.”
Shane exhales, still rattled. “Little of both.”
“You and Daphne, that a thing?”
“She’s my hostess, Wendy. She’s a kid.”
Wendy tilts her head, unconvinced. “Doesn’t stop most men in this town.”
Under the hallway lights, she looks unreal—gold hair glowing, matte pink lips soft and slightly parted. Maybe it’s the drinks. Maybe it’s that night coming back to him. The pool. Suddenly, he wants to kiss her just to shut her up.
“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he says, keeping it casual.
She smiles, cool and slow. “So you’re happy to see me, then?”
“Maybe. If it means I’ll be seeing more.”
For a moment, the party recedes—the lights, the music, everyone else. Just her Soleil Blanc perfume curling through the space between them, drawing him in.
Then a manicured hand slips through Shane’s arm.
“Sorry, darling,” Boots purrs, her attention landing on Wendy. “I need him. Some tequila guy wants to talk distro.”
Shane hesitates, just a brief moment of knowing what he wants, before Boots pulls him away, like she’s staking her claim.
Wendy watches them go. Inhales. Exhales. The sound nearly a growl. Goddamnit. We were this close.
By the time they slip home through the gates, the city feels far away, swallowed by the courtyard’s hush. Wendy walks alongside Shane, neither of them breaking the quiet, each waiting for the other to finally do something. Then, beneath the blue-lit palms, she risks a glance. Shane, with his careless swagger, that impossible beauty, looks like the kind of mistake she should’ve outgrown. But tonight isn’t about caution.
“I guess this is the part where we say goodnight,” she says, fingers brushing his wrist. She watches him now, all her attention fixed on him. His breath stutters. And in that instant, she’s done waiting.
She leans up and kisses him. Shane’s hand finds her neck, pulling her close, and any doubt vanishes—he’s been waiting, too. A low sound escapes him, his other hand sliding from her hip to the small of her back. Wendy laughs into his mouth as he pins her against the doorframe.
The door swings open. Slams shut behind them. Wendy pulls him into the dark. His mouth finds her throat; her head falls back, breath breaking on a gasp.
He pauses, forehead to hers. “I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.”
“Less talking, Shane,” she whispers, yanking him closer, and that’s all it takes. He lifts her. Her legs lock around him as they crash toward the bedroom. She clings tighter, nails digging in, every kiss rougher than the last, until the bed catches their fall.
Then he’s inside her. She gasps. Arches. The world blurs. A thought breaks through the heat. She could stop, pull away, save herself. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t need saving. Not tonight.