Crush(135)

Logan McPherson was the grandson of a hedge fund manager and philanthropist worth an estimated twenty billion dollars. His grandfather was one of the wealthiest men in the city, but Logan never seemed to care and he never discussed money. He was an attorney who spent most of his time in Boston. I knew he was licensed in both states but wasn’t sure if he was practicing in either. No one knew much about his work.

Emmy Lane, publishing heiress, refused to learn what it would take to run a long list of publications owned by her family and because of her resistance, her parents were not on board with her plan to relocate to LA. She hadn’t gotten the big break she was waiting for but she still continued to audition for parts here in the city. Swan Publishing might have been her family legacy but her passion was acting and she still hoped someday she would be a star.

James Ashton, Harvard graduate and real estate heir, acquired his real estate license shortly after grad school and learned quickly how to wheel and deal with the bigwigs.

And Danny, poor Danny just recently settled into his destiny, marking day one of the rest of his life. Danny had choices though. His father was a gaming heir from very old money and his mother was of the European “fast set.” Her family had founded Fiat and led a glamorous life that included elaborate parties, streamlined yachts, fast cars, and luxurious villas. Although Fiat was no longer family owned, he could have joined the board. In the end, he opted for the gaming industry. Churchill Downs was where his training would begin and he’d be based in Kentucky for the next year. He had mixed emotions about leaving the city but since he’d been back and forth for the last two years, what was one more? Well, that’s what he said anyway.

And then there was me. Phoebe St. Claire—heiress to a hotel empire that was crumbling before my eyes.

My great-grandfather bought his first hotel at the height of the oil boom. His father disapproved of the investment but the hotel broke all records and soon my great-grandfather expanded throughout the country, adding hotel after hotel. Just before his death The Saint Corporation, known as TSC, expanded internationally to be the first international hotel chain promulgating a certain worldwide standard for hotel accommodations everywhere. Through the years, the international division was sold off, and under my father’s reign, all that remained were the US operations. As my father’s only child, I always knew I was next in line to run what was left of the hotel empire. It simply happened sooner than I thought. The circumstances only compounded the financial distress of the already vulnerable company.

With a whistle, Jamie held up a bottle of Piper-Heidsieck champagne. Danny and Logan headed toward him and Emmy without any further prompting. Together, Lily and I climbed the steps up to the booth.

Jamie stood and pulled me close to him. “You doing okay today?”

I put my finger to his lips. “We’ll talk later.”

“Dawson’s here.”

“I know,” I said, and glanced over my shoulder toward his table.

If Lily had always been my very best girlfriend, Jamie held the spot as my very best boyfriend. In fact, I think I was always more open with him than I was with Lily. We just had an ease between us.

“My man,” Jamie said turning to Danny. “How was your first day on the job?”

“Fucking sucked. But I expected worse.”

I turned around and hugged him. “Something tells me you loved it.”

Shoulders lifting he said, “I’ll let you know after a month in Kentucky when I’m not under my father’s watchful eye.”

“Phoebe, you made it,” Emmy greeted me with a hug and Logan joined in.

I purposefully moved myself to the other side of the booth so my back was to the center of the room. Nothing good would come of me staring at Dawson all night.

Once we all sat down, James passed glasses to each of us, and then raised his. “Today, we have gathered to mourn the loss of our youth. We were once young, wild, and free but all that remains now is for us to get even wilder. So let’s get f*cking drunk.”

“Cheers,” we all said in unison as we clinked our glasses.

An hour later, and after too many bottles of champagne and wine, for what had to have been the twentieth time of the night, we brought our hands to the center of the table. The six of us shared a bond that could not be broken by anyone, and we all knew it. And this time, as our flutes clinked, we said together at the top of our lungs, “Friends forever,” and pressed our glasses to our forehead.

It was a private signal between us. We’d seen each other through so much; no words could describe what we felt for one another. And no one knew any of us like we knew one another. Through thick and thin, united we stood.

Dramatic—yes.

Real—absolutely.

After we finished our toast, I stood on wobbly legs. “Excuse me, I have to use the restroom.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Emmy asked.

She was nestled close to James and seemed pretty happy right where she was. Some things never changed. “No, you stay put.”

I looked down at my watch. It was only twelve ten, or maybe it was two. Funny, I couldn’t tell which was the big hand and which was the little one.

The stairs nearest to our booth offered me the chance to glance toward Dawson but I had a strange feeling someone was watching me. A silver button on a distressed leather jacket caught the reflection of one of the beams of light flaring down from the twirling disco ball. The leather stood out in a sea of fine fabric suits and sequin dresses but then faded into the crowd. For a moment, a sense of familiarity stirred in my belly. But I pushed the feeling aside and just thought—too much alcohol.