Wanted. (Book Eight)

Thirteen: Blast From The Past.

Spencer adjusted the scoop neck of her Milly halter dress and flashed a fake ID to a bald bouncer at Paparazzi, a two-story club in Old City, Philadelphia. The bouncer studied it, nodded, and handed it back to Spencer. Sweet.

Next came Courtney, dressed in a gorgeous gold minidress. Courtney showed the bouncer an old fake ID of Melissa's, and the bouncer nodded her through. Emily pulled up the rear, looking surprisingly sexy in a red A-line dress, a bold beaded necklace, and scrappy silver heels she'd borrowed from Courtney's closet. Courtney had called Spencer an hour before they were supposed to leave for their big night out, saying that she and Emily had hit it off and that she wanted to invite Emily to go dancing with them. Spencer didn't mind—now that she'd bonded with Ali's twin, she wanted everyone else to love her just as much.

Emily handed the bouncer her older sister's fake ID, and after the bouncer nodded in attentively and handed it back, the three of them pushed inside. "We are going to have an awesome time," Courtney said, grabbing their hands. "I am so excited."

"Me too," Emily said, giving Courtney a long, meaningful look. Spencer couldn't help but smirk. It looked like Emily's crush on Ali had transferred over to her twin sister.

It was crowded for a Wednesday night. The club was in an old bank with marble pillars, intricate woodwork, and a mezzanine level that looked over the dance floor. A Black Eyed Peas song was playing at a deafening volume, and a bunch of college-age kids were writhing around enthusiastically, not caring that they had no rhythm—or that they were spilling their drinks all over themselves. The place smelled overwhelmingly like beer, cologne, and too many bodies in too small a space. A bunch of guys turned when they saw Spencer and her friends, their eyes instantly zeroing in on Courtney's blond hair, her slim hips, the way her dress skimmed her thighs. Everyone knew who she was. It was a wonder the news vans hadn't arrived yet.

Courtney leaned over the bar and ordered them three raspberry martinis. She returned with three pinkish drinks. "Bottoms up, ladies."

"I don't know..." Spencer said uncertainly.

"Yeah!" Emily said at the same time. Spencer gaped at her. Who was this girl, and what had she done with the old Emily?

"You're outvoted!" Courtney grinned. "Ready, set, chug!"

Spencer good-naturedly tilted the drink to her lips, letting the tart liquid spill down her throat. When she finished, she wiped her mouth and let out a whoop.

The others finished their drinks, too, and Courtney flagged down a seven-foot-tall bartender who looked suspiciously like a drag queen. "Let's dance!" she said after handing them their second rounds. They shimmied toward the dance floor and began to gyrate to "Hollaback Girl." Courtney stretched her arms over her head and closed her eyes. Emily swayed back and forth to the beat. Emily swayed back and forth to the beat.

Spencer leaned forward and shouted in Emily's ear. "Remember those dance contests we used to have in Ali's living room?" They moved all the furniture to the corners, cranked up the stereo, and made up elaborate dance moves to Justin Timberlake. "This is just like that...only better."

Emily gave Spencer a coy look. "More than you know, actually."

Spencer frowned. "What do you mean?" But Emily took a long swig of her drink and turned away.

The crowd around them thickened. Spencer felt people staring. A bunch of guys edged close, taking advantage of every opportunity they could to bump against Courtney's hips, Emily's long legs, or Spencer's bare shoulders. Girls looked on longingly, many of them waving their arms over their heads like Courtney was, hoping some of her magic would rub off on them. The wallflowers sitting in booths gaped at the three of them as if they were Hollywood starlets.