“I haven’t seen Chloe,” Peyton said. “Emma, dish. I want to know how you know him.” She glided back to me at the chest-high table where more trays of alcohol were ready to go.
I was tempted to gulp down a glass or two of champagne. “I don’t. The first time I saw him was in class today, and we didn’t talk.” I wiped my sweaty palms down my pant leg. I was probably going to hell for lying. I wasn’t ready to tell Peyton that I knew Kelton. She would have questions that I wasn’t prepared to answer, especially since Kelton was such a celebrity. My scalp itched like crazy underneath my wig. I scratched it, wondering if maybe I should get out of there before I dug myself into a bigger lie.
“Let’s keep the food and drinks flowing,” Wendy said. “You two can gossip about the handsome man later.”
Considering I did need the cash and was hoping to see Zach, I brushed off my escape plan.
“Emma, keep serving drinks. Peyton, start serving the quiches and shrimp cocktail,” Wendy ordered, spooning a meat-and-rice mixture into the small lettuce cups.
Peyton picked up a silver platter of finger food. “I’ll just ask him how he knows you.” She stuck me with a glare.
“That’s a great idea.” I would like to know how he knew my name, and what else he knew about me. I grabbed a fresh tray of drinks.
“Peyton, send Chloe in if you see her,” Wendy called as Peyton and I exited.
Voices droned through the packed room. Peyton and I split up again. My pulse was still on overload as I served alcohol. Knowing Kelton, he wasn’t going to let up until he got my attention. I scoped out the exits just in case I needed to hide. One sign was lit up at the far end of the room. I’d remembered an exit located in the kitchen, and the other one was the main entrance off to my left.
“Are you about to make a mad dash for the exit like you did earlier today?” a male voice asked.
I peered up at the skinny man on my right. “No, Mr. Brewer. I’m trying to find the other server.” Another lie.
“Uh huh. Why don’t you tell me something that’s true?”
“Brew!” someone called.
A blond guy with curly hair and dressed in a blue suit, white shirt, and satin purple tie waved at him. My hand shook, and the glasses dinged on my tray.
“You sure are jumpy.” Mr. Brewer’s long fingers wrapped around the stem of a glass of red wine.
The closer Zach Malden got to us, the more I broke out in a nervous sweat. I’d seen pictures of Zach in his father’s office in Miami when I had been visiting my dad at work. I’d only met him once briefly three years ago when he was visiting his father for a weekend. Apparently, he’d lived with his mother in Chicago until he started at BU. I took in a quiet breath. It was time for me to shuck the nerves and get in the game. My hand steadied, as did the glasses. I scanned the room for a hefty, older version of Zach and came up empty. The ray of optimism that had gripped me vanished. At least Zach was here.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it to class today.” Zach puffed out his scruffy jaw. Then he slowly released his breath as he snatched a flute of champagne from my tray.
“Rough afternoon?” Mr. Brewer asked.
Zach gulped down the champagne then replaced the empty glass with a fresh one. “It always is when my old man blows into town for the afternoon then leaves like the city is about to blow up.” He downed the entire contents of the glass.
I felt my eyebrows come together, and I silently screamed fuck. “Your father is missing a great event,” I said coolly.
“He’d never show his face at an art function, even if he was still in the city,” Zach said, sounding dejected or wanting of his father’s approval. “He couldn’t give a shit about my artwork or the fact my masterpiece is on display tonight.”
I tipped my head to the side slightly. His dad had spoken proudly of his son, at least the one time he’d told me about Zach.
“Zach, meet our newest student, Emma,” Mr. Brewer said as he sipped his wine.
I smiled and batted my eyelashes as naturally as I could. Somehow I had to befriend Zach in the hopes I could learn the whereabouts of his father, although I never considered myself good at going out of my way to get a guy’s attention. My mom had always told me men were sometimes more attracted to the art of the chase. “You said you had a masterpiece. I’d love to see it.” God, I prayed I wasn’t coming across as fake.
With his bottom lip between his teeth, he sized me up.
“Maybe you can teach her some of your tricks of color and light,” Mr. Brewer said.
Fantastic idea. “I would like that. I owe Mr. Brewer an assignment. I could use your help.”
Mr. Brewer cocked his head. “You do owe me.”