Dive

Chapter Two

 "A good friend is like a four-leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have." – Irish proverb

"Look at you," Amanda says from the doorway, almond-shaped eyes traveling over the nude-colored dress I borrowed from her closet. It still had the price tag attached to it when she pulled it out from an endless row of dresses. "Jesus, you're in great shape. What the hell do you eat, woman?"

I roll my eyes because she's the gym rat, not me. In fact, she looks like a runway model, so her comment is nothing more than her being a good friend. I haven't been to the gym in way too long, although, on occasion, I do find myself guilty of counting calories. "Is there any chance I can stay here and binge on the latest season of Peaky Blinders?"

"No," she replies flatly, arms crossed over her chest. She's wearing a white cocktail dress that hugs her toned body to perfection and dusty pink stilettos. "Put some red lipstick on. It will make your eyes pop."

"I don't want to." I almost pout. I really, really, don't want to go to a fancy party where I don't know anyone and I will most likely feel out of my element.

"Care, I swear to God, if you don't get moving, I will have Rico drag you to the Rolls."

Rico is her chauffeur, and of course she owns a Rolls Royce. Sometimes I really wonder what she saw in me. Our worlds are a billion years apart. They are not even in the same universe.

"Stop threatening me."

"Stop pouting and do as I say. Red lipstick."

She disappears from the room and two minutes later comes back with a tube of lipstick that she shoves into my hand, the brand unequivocally popular to those who can afford it.

"Why am I going again?"

This time, she manages to look offended. "You'll meet my family. You've been my best friend for so long and you haven't even met my dad."

I feel a pang of guilt at her words. Her mother died when she was ten. Although her father remarried a few years ago, she's not really fond of her step-mother. But she adores her dad and I know that she has a close relationship with her uncle's family as well. Today they are celebrating her uncle's sixty-fifth anniversary.

"I'm sorry, Ames. I'm not trying to be a brat about it, but I'm a little nervous."

"Don't be. Everyone will love you."

I apply the lipstick and turn to her. "Better?"

"Perfect."

On the way to the party, she tells me about her latest get-away trip to Paris with a guy she's been seeing on and off. I listen, although a little distracted by the passing scenery. I've been here for two days and the city in front of me is waiting to be discovered. I'm actually starting to get a little excited.

"We're here," she announces from beside me when the Rolls pulls up into a gated driveway that looks a mile long.

Rico stops the car in front of a three-story mansion, and I feel my anxiety starting to rise. A multitude of expensive vehicles are parked along the driveway, revealing a moderate-size gathering of people I have never met in my life.

At the door, we are met by a young woman dressed in a uniform that Amanda greets by name. She smiles and welcomes us in.

"Everyone is in the garden," the woman named Octavia says, glancing at the gift bag Amanda still has in her hand. "Can I take that and leave it with the other presents?"

Amanda gives up possession of the bag and grabs my hand, tugging me forward. "Come."

When we step outside, I'm surprised to see more people than I assumed to be there from the cars parked in the driveway. The garden is quite impressive in both size and décor. There is a Swedish buffet and an open bar. Men and women mingle about, and I notice that the music comes from a live band.