Lead Me Astray

Chapter 1

Aurie

August 9 | Night

No way I was living my best life. Not with my baby sis along.

I side-eyed Haley, the caramel vixen leaning way over the balcony railing for a selfie. In the background, New Orleans traffic lit the night from thirty-five stories below. Shaking my head, I pulled my sister to safety.

"Hey! I was midslay." Haley's almond eyes glittered with amusement. People swore we looked alike, but I didn't see it.

"That Snapchat filter can't really make wings sprout from your skinny back," I said.

"This skinny back got us into a VIP party."

"I'm aware." I snorted. "Your cover girl looks will probably get us in trouble by the end of the night."

Trouble was Haley's calling card.

"Don't be such a killjoy," she said with a grin.

My calling card was being a killjoy, also known as being responsible. As much as I yearned for Big Easy excitement, if Mom had known that I, the college honors student, had allowed the high schooler to crash this upscale shindig, she would have gone apeshit.

"All right, it's almost midnight. Time to go," I said.

"I told you we could get in without being on the guest list. You lost the bet."

"Because you flashed the doorman. I'm not even sure he spoke English. I could kill you!"

"You owe me," Haley said smugly. She was having a blast.

"Okay, I might've been wrong about the guest list, but look in there. Any of that worth the trouble we'll be in if we get caught?" I waved at the suite beyond the sliding doors. The theme of the décor was luxury and decadence. Drugs everywhere. Sex acts all out in the . . . "On second thought, don't look. Just picture cops raiding the place."

"Girl, you know as well as I do the cops won't raid this party."

Haley was right. Half the guests struck me as celeb types, which meant some of them were probably her followers. She was famous on the 'Gram. This Bougie Meets Trap party was exactly Haley's scene. I was the one hiding outside on the balcony.

Here was a corner of quiet sanity. A wicker sectional with comfy cerulean pillows offered seating. Lush lime-green ferns danced in a late summer breeze. Hidden speakers piped music out to us. Through the sliding patio doors, the four-star hotel room had a rich, dark aesthetic. Like any secret could be kept within its walls.

But I reluctantly followed my sister back inside. We passed three people lounging on an emerald davenport. They clearly manifested fashion as a way of life, while my socks barely matched each other. One of them blinked at me—opaque black contacts covered their entire exposed eyeball—and I shuddered.

"Well, maybe if I weren't babysitting," I said over the music, "I could enjoy the smell of—what is that, vintage malt liquor and designer weed? I prefer being online. It's safer."

"Safe? Bruh, if living life to the fullest isn't worth dying for, then what even is?"

"Bad, bad philosophy, sis." I laughed. Shrugging, she reached for a drink. I blocked her. We were near the door. "Oh c'mon, Haley. Don't make me drag you out of here."

"Fine. We can go, but like I said . . ." She tipped her chin at someone behind me. "You owe me."

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw a good-looking gentleman ogling us. Golden-brown hair. A face made for movies. I watched the bartender pour him two shots. When he caught me staring, he peeled himself from the bar and sauntered over with the drinks. I shook my head with a disbelieving chuckle.