Wild (The Ivy Chronicles #3)(3)

“Georgia Parker Robinson.” She must have heard something in my voice because hers just got all principal-mode on me. Not to mention she was whipping out my full name. “This is your future. You need to take this seriously and not wait until the last minute.”

“Of course, Mom. I know.”

A pause fell. “Is this because of Harris? He won’t be here this summer, you know. His mother said he took an internship in Boston.”

“You spoke with his mother?” I couldn’t help it. My voice escaped in a squeak.

“I saw her at the store. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“We both agree that this is just a phase he’s going through . . . this other girl is just a fling—”

“Mother! You discussed us . . . her?”

Her is a girl I’ve never even met, but someone Harris started fooling around with a few weeks before he dumped me. It was such a cliché. But then wasn’t there truth in clichés? That’s why they existed.

“Don’t get upset. You and Harris will work this out—”

“I don’t want to work it out with him, Mom. He cheated on me. He broke up with me.”

“You’re both so young. You don’t understand yet. This will only make your relationship stronger down the road.”

“Mom, this might be hard to believe, but I don’t want to be with Harris anymore.”

“Oh, this is so unlike you, Georgia. You’re not the type to hang on to pointless anger.”

“What do you mean? Why is this so unlike me?” What was I like then? The kind of girl who would let a guy stomp all over her heart and then ask for seconds?

“You’ve never disappointed me before.”

And not marrying Harris would disappoint her? Was that her implication?

She continued, “You always make the right decisions. We raised you to be reliable.”

Boring. Harris’s word drifted through my mind just then. He’d called me boring when he broke up with me. Oh, there had been other words. Other accusations laid at my feet, but that one stuck in my head the most.

I sighed and rubbed at my suddenly aching forehead, like that accusation was still lodged in there, an annoying pebble I couldn’t shake loose. “I’ll let you know about the job.”

“Please do. The position won’t be available forever. Mr. Berenger will hold it as long as he can as a favor to me. I could have expelled his son that time when he stole the test from Mrs. Morris’s desk and sold the answers to everyone, remember? I only gave him on-campus suspension.”

“Okay, Mom. Tell Dad and Amber hello for me.”

“Good night, honey.”

“ ’Night, Mom.”

Ending the call, I fell back on my bed. Law & Order was starting over again, the familiar theme music racing over the air.

Restlessness—and a low undercurrent of anger—hummed through me. Mom. Harris. Joshua. Their voices overlapped in my head, making my stomach churn. All three of them thought they knew me so well. Boring. Reliable. Serious.

All words to describe me. All words I wanted to fling to the floor and stomp on until they were dust beneath me. Holding up my phone again, I scrolled through names, stopping at one at the very bottom. My thumb hovered over the keypad before reaching a decision and typing.

Me: So what does one wear to a kink club?

Annie: Something you can easily take off . . .





Chapter 2

I HAD A VAGUE recollection of a Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman movie Mom refused to let me watch but that I watched anyway during a sleepover at Bethany Grayson’s house (her mother let her watch anything) called Eyes Wide Shut. The movie featured a lavish, hedonistic sex club full of rich, beautiful people dressed in extravagant costumes. Annie’s kink club was a far cry from that.

I should have known it after Emerson’s one visit. Amid laughter, she had shared her experience . . . which had included a man in an anatomically correct squirrel costume. Chippy was in attendance tonight, too, weaving among the rooms and bumping against females. After stepping off the elevator, I stuck close to Annie, letting her guide me. I drove my own car, the memory of Emerson being abandoned by Annie still fresh in my mind.

Tonight’s kink club was being held at a large loft with few rooms. Just a single wide-open space with sparse furniture. Understandably there was little privacy. Not that that stopped people from getting down to business. Several made out. The bedroom consisted of a near-translucent screen that did nothing to shield the orgy happening on the bed.

Couples occupied couches and ottomans. In a corner there was a threesome. They were making out in earnest, but thankfully still in clothes. Their hands were everywhere, diving inside shirts and under dresses. I looked away as I caught sight of panties being slid down one girl’s thighs.

“Want a drink?” Annie asked loudly over the pump of music, stopping before a makeshift bar manned by a guy wearing nothing but a speedo, a Captain America mask, and a Superman cape. He was clearly his own brand of superhero. He danced as he shook, stirred, and poured, doing this crazy pelvic-thrust action that drew my eyes and then made me glance away. Repeatedly.

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

Not that I was opposed to drinking. I could have used a cocktail to calm my nerves, but I was a little uncomfortable drinking the purple-colored concoctions Captain No Name was making. He nodded at me with a jerk of his chin and sent me a wink. I smiled back lamely. I wanted a drink to relax me . . . not a roofie.