The Secret Diamond Sisters (9 page)

Maybe if Brett saw her with Damien it would make him jealous.

She shook the thought away. Flirting with Damien was fun, but he was one of her closest friends, and hurting him like Brett had hurt her wouldn’t be fair. And who was to say Damien wouldn’t get sick of her like he did with every girl he dated? Maybe the only reason he was interested in her was because she didn’t fall all over him like the rest of them.

Madison was about to get up and say “bye” to Brett when she spotted Adrian Diamond and his three daughters walking into the club. The girls looked like total hicks. The little one was wearing an aqua dress that resembled a cheap Halloween-store costume, the tall blonde looked like she was going to church in Kansas in her silly pink sundress and the one with the freaky blue streaks might as well have come straight from the trailer park in a short black skirt that was obviously fake leather. The matching knee-high boots and excessive eyeliner made it worse.

They would never fit in here in a million years.

“Adrian Diamond’s daughters,” Madison said in distaste. “Have you met them yet?”

“Yep.” Brett didn’t look at her when he answered; instead he focused on the Diamond girl with wavy blond hair—the tall one in the stupid pink sundress. To make things more scandalous, she recognized Brett’s wistful look as he stared at the Diamond girl. Heated jealousy filled her lungs, which was ridiculous, because that twig of a girl had nothing on Madison. But it sure seemed like Brett had a crush on his.... What was the right term for the daughter of your mother’s boyfriend?

Whatever it was, the way he was looking at her shouldn’t be legal.

“They definitely don’t look like they’re from around here.” Madison rested an elbow on the bar and held her wineglass in front of her.

Brett plunked down his empty beer bottle, and Madison jumped at the loud clang. “I’m going to say hi to them,” he said. “Have fun tonight.”

He stood up before Madison could reply. What had she done to make him so uninterested in her? Maybe she could have been nicer to him around school, but they always got along when she tutored him. And two weeks ago, when he’d kissed her, she knew he’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. Now he’d left her sitting at a bar by herself. It didn’t make sense.

Her eyes filled again, and she stared into her glass, refusing to turn around and watch Brett greet those girls. Seeing that would be too painful. Instead, she swallowed away the tears and took another sip of wine, closing her eyes as it traveled down her body, pretending it could cool down all the jealousy and anger she was feeling. She made herself breathe steadily, like she did in yoga class when they were getting rid of their stresses from the day. Inhale positive energy, exhale negative.

Nearly a minute passed until she started feeling like herself again. And she needed to stop sulking. Brett had made it clear he wasn’t interested, and while that hurt, she wasn’t going to be pathetic about it.

She lifted her shoulders, stood up and straightened her dress. The club had grown crowded while she’d been talking to Brett. Colored spotlights darted around the room like they were dancing to the thumping music, and dry ice hovered an inch or so over the dance floor, flowing over the edges. Madison surveyed who was sitting where, every muscle in her body tightening when she caught sight of the one person she had hoped wouldn’t show up.

Nick Gordon sat a few booths down from the one she was sharing with Damien, Oliver and the rest of their friends. His blond curly hair shined under the flashing lights, and he laughed at something someone said, the same genuine grin on his face that she’d grown used to seeing since they’d started dating in March. His table was full of football players, volleyball girls and cheerleaders from Goodman. Madison couldn’t handle more than five minutes around most of the cheerleaders—they were such wannabes with their bleached hair and orange skin from tanning salons. She did know a lot of the football players, though, since Nick was the quarterback. During the three months they’d dated, he’d insisted she go to some of the lame suburban house parties thrown by his friends. She hadn’t had a bad time—Nick was always good company—but they belonged in different crowds. It was part of the reason why the two of them didn’t work out.

But there were a few events on the Strip that he—or anyone else that mattered—wouldn’t miss, and David Guetta playing the first Fourth of July party at Myst was one of them.

She would have to avoid him. She didn’t have any hard feelings, but seeing how pained he looked every time they’d spoken since the breakup made her want to sink into the floor and disappear.

Now that she thought about it, that wasn’t a bad idea. Not in the literal sense, obviously, but she could go down to the second floor for a bit. And she knew just the person to join her.

Luckily for Madison, the table where her friends were sitting was close to the bar, so she wouldn’t have to pass Nick and his crowd on the way there. She downed the rest of her wine and marched over to the booth. She fought off an initial bout of nausea—Meursault wasn’t meant to be chugged—but it was soon replaced by the pleasant buzz of alcohol. Her head tingled with giddiness, and as she walked she arranged her hair in front of her shoulders in a way she knew looked hot, smiling knowingly at the guys who watched her.

Damien and Oliver stared at her as she approached. After reaching them she placed her hand on the back of the booth to steady herself, trying to make the movement coy instead of an attempt to appear not as tipsy as she was.

Damien scooted out of the booth and stood up, motioning her to go in. “Welcome back,” he said. “Who was that you were talking to?”

“Some loser from school.” Madison rolled her eyes. “He was at the bar by himself and started talking to me.” Damien couldn’t find out how badly she was just rejected. It was humiliating enough that she knew; everyone else knowing would make it a million times worse. “It took me a few minutes to escape.”

“How kind of you to consider his feelings,” Damien said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“And what have the two of you been up to?” she asked.

“Just making a bet.” Oliver rubbed his hands together and smirked. “Damien will owe me a grand by the end of the summer.”

“Really?” Madison raised an eyebrow at Damien. “Why’s that?”

“Oliver said he could easily hook up with all three Diamond sisters before school starts up,” Damien said. “And I bet he couldn’t. Especially since the youngest one already has it bad for me.”

“You guys are disgusting.” Madison pretended she didn’t care, but the mention of those girls made her blood boil. She didn’t want to discuss them for any longer than necessary.

Trying to be subtle, she peeked over Damien’s shoulder to see what Nick and his friends were up to. Luckily, her ex seemed too involved in chatting with the people at his table to have noticed her yet.

“Come with me.” She reached past Damien for Oliver’s hand and grasped it in her own, pulling him closer. He seemed surprised. Then a crooked smile spread over his face, showing the dimple on his right cheek.

“Where are you dragging me, Mads?” he asked, although she could tell he was having fun. He kept his hand in hers, staying seated as he waited for her answer.

“The second floor.” She leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, “I want to dance.”

“Let’s dance, then.” He gripped her hand tighter and slid out of the seat, pulling her close when he stood up. His body pressed hard against hers, and he grinned at her before raising his arm in the air, allowing her to twirl underneath. She laughed, loving how her flowing dress spun out with the movement. He held his other arm around the curve of her back, pulling her close and resting his forehead against hers.

“Come on,” she said, leading him to the spiral steps. Not letting go of Oliver’s hand, she peered over her shoulder to see what was going on at the table they’d vacated.

Damien had taken her seat in the booth. He was talking with Larissa and pouring himself another drink. He looked up at Madison, and she expected him to say something snarky about how she should have asked him to dance instead of Oliver, but he just lifted his glass in a silent toast. She could have sworn she saw a hint of jealousy in his eyes. But she shook away the thought, amused it had crossed her mind. Damien jealous of her dancing with Oliver? Please. Oliver was the last person Damien should worry about.

A few people greeted her and Oliver as they walked through the VIP floor, and she said hi in return, even to the people she didn’t recognize. As they neared Nick’s table, she gripped Oliver’s hand tighter, pulling him closer.

He rested his head against hers and whispered in her ear, “So, I’m guessing the little show over there was for Nick’s benefit?”

“No.” She kept her eyes focused on Oliver’s. “I was just having fun.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You never were good at lying.”

“That’s not true.” Her lips parted in pretend shock. “I’m just not good at lying to
you.
”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” He seemed amused.

Then Madison made the mistake of peeking in Nick’s direction. When her eyes met his, he looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. Madison leaned into Oliver for support. If she hadn’t spotted Nick on the slopes in Deer Valley over spring break, then none of this would have happened. Dating him had been a stupid idea in the first place, but she’d enjoyed the time they spent together. He was sweet and kind. And after that week in Deer Valley, they’d made their relationship work for the rest of the school year.

Until Madison had screwed it up.

Nick lifted his arm like he was about to wave to her, but she looked away from him before he had a chance. “Come on,” she said to Oliver, pulling him with her to the steps leading downstairs, where she could lose herself in the music and forget about the huge mess she’d somehow managed to create.

www.campusbuzz.com

High Schools > Nevada > Las Vegas > The Goodman
School

Red Rock Overlook

Posted on Monday 07/04 at 6:01 PM

You all keep talking about Myst, but who wants to go there for
Fourth of July? Myst sucks. The only people who look like they're having fun
there are wasted beyond oblivion.

Red Rock Overlook is better for Fourth of July if you ask
me. The fireworks beat anything on the Strip, they're over beautiful natural
scenery, and you get to watch them with a chill group of people. Best of all,
it's FREE. I don't know about the rest of you, but that's where I'm gonna be
tonight.

1: Posted on Monday 07/04 at 6:23 PM

red rock overlook? are you serious? who the hell goes
there?

oh wait, that would be losers. are the public school kids
trolling our board?

2: Posted on Monday 07/04 at 6:47 PM

Whoever posted this either doesn't have a good enough fake ID
to get into Myst or isn't on the VIP list. Because otherwise they would know how
dumb they sound. Anyone who's been to Myst knows it beats sitting in the
mountains in the killer summer heat.

3: Posted on Monday 07/04 at 7:42 PM

you all are so dumb. who cares about the “coolest” place to
watch fireworks?

4: Posted on Monday 07/04 at 7:57 PM

Apparently you, since you replied to this post. Now it's time
to get ready for tonight. Myst or Red Rocks?

The answer should be obvious. I'll see those of you who
matter
later.

chapter 9:

Myst was unlike anything Savannah had ever seen. It was a tropical wonderland. There was even a
waterfall
inside. Savannah had never seen a real waterfall, but this one had to be more beautiful than anything created by nature. Lights shined behind it, making it look like something from another world. She wanted to run up to the balcony, lean over it and watch the water cascade from the top floor into the lagoon. But Adrian led her and her sisters inside the club—directly through the VIP entrance on the third floor—and she didn’t want to embarrass him by looking like a ten-year-old at a candy store.

After all, she was a hotel heiress now. People here saw places like this all the time, and she wanted to appear as worldly as the rest of them. Not many people got to start their life over; it was the perfect opportunity to reinvent herself.

From now on, she was no longer Savannah Diamond, small-town girl who was overshadowed by her prettier, funnier best friend, and who couldn’t keep up with the fashion trends of the girls on the volleyball team. She was Savannah Diamond, daughter of one of the richest hotel owners in the world. She could be more than the wide-eyed girl whose friends thought she needed to get her head out of the clouds. She could be more than Evie’s second-best. She could buy the expensive bags and shoes the cool girls flaunted around school, so she wouldn’t feel like an outsider. She would finally fit in—more so once she got her new wardrobe, highlights and hair extensions. She could practically feel them cascading down her back already. Maybe she could even forget about that embarrassing moment in eighth grade when she sang at the school talent show and forgot the words to the song, which made everyone think she was an idiot. She had practiced every day for a month, but once she’d gotten up onstage and looked out at everyone watching her, she’d blanked.

She hadn’t performed in front of an audience since.

Of course, this Savannah Diamond needed the hottest, most desirable boyfriend by her side. Someone like Damien Sanders. Just thinking about him standing in her doorway, with those deep brown eyes, perfectly messed-up hair and gorgeous smile sent her heart racing.

He’d said he would be here. Now she had to find him.

The elevated dance floor was filled with people her parents’ age, so she looked around the edges of the club. The closest booth to her was packed with people who could be in high school, mostly the football player/cheerleader type. A muscular guy poured drinks for everyone, and they all cheered and clapped—except for a blond guy with curly hair who seemed like he was about to cry. Savannah’s heart went out to him; he looked like a lost puppy.

But he wasn’t her problem. She was on a mission—find Damien. She just hoped Courtney wouldn’t feel the need to babysit them. She could tell her sisters didn’t like him, but they had to give her more credit sometimes. Savannah was perfectly capable of handling her own life.

Brett walked up to them before Savannah could look around any more. She had always wanted a brother, and she liked Brett from the little bit of conversation they’d had at dinner. He wasn’t a big talker, but there was no denying he was cute. Savannah had always imagined that her brother would be good-looking, so he would have good-looking friends to introduce her to. That was the perk of having a brother, right? Peyton would never dream of introducing her guy friends to Savannah (and the freaky guys Peyton hung out with weren’t Savannah’s type anyway), and Courtney was so busy with school and work that she never hung out with guys at all.

Which gave her an idea—maybe Brett was friends with Damien. Maybe he was
best
friends with Damien, so she would get to see him all the time. That would be perfect. And everything was working out well for Savannah recently, so it was possible.

Adrian let them know he would be with Rebecca and some of their friends, pointing out their table so they could find him if they needed him, and left them in the care of their stepbrother-to-be.

“Hey, Brett,” Savannah greeted him, trying extra hard to be friendly. “How’s the party been so far?”

“It’s all right.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets and shrugged. He sounded like he was stuck listening to a lecture at school instead of at the coolest club Savannah had ever been to. Well, the only club she had ever been to. But if she had been to clubs before, she’d still bet Myst would be the best. “To be honest, it’s not my scene.”

“Oh.” Savannah played with the ends of her dress, beginning to doubt he would introduce her to tons of people tonight. But she was still going to try. “So, Adrian said you were going to introduce us to people from Goodman?”

“Well, you’ve got the sports crowd over there.” Brett motioned to the group Savannah had noticed when she’d arrived—the one with the football players, cheerleaders and sad guy with puppy-dog eyes. “Two booths from them are the high-strung, overinvolved kids who run for every position on the SGA. Then, a few more down, are the kids who have endless money and believe they’re God’s gifts to the universe.” He shook his head as he looked at them; clearly he disapproved. “I know your dad said I would introduce you to people from Goodman, but my friends go to public school, and they went somewhere else tonight. Sorry.”

Savannah’s hopes that Brett would be a cool, fun stepbrother who would introduce her to tons of hot guys disappeared. It looked like she was going to have to find Damien on her own.

“I’m going to get a drink,” she decided. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Unless she found Damien.

“I’ll go with you,” Peyton volunteered. “A drink sounds good right now.”

“Okay,” Savannah said, less than thrilled. At least Courtney was staying with Brett, but Peyton’s pleather miniskirt looked cheap compared to the expensive clothes everyone else was wearing. It was too bad her oldest sister shrugged off her fashion advice. Maybe that would change once Peyton realized what everyone in Las Vegas wore, but Savannah doubted it. Peyton never listened to her; she was too headstrong to take advice from anyone. Plus, she thought Savannah was clueless in everything.

Savannah followed Peyton to the bar. She felt the thumping music—a remix of her favorite song that was constantly played on the radio—vibrating from the floor and traveling up her body. She couldn’t wait until David Guetta hit the stage later; she was going to take so many pictures to post on Facebook. Evie and the rest of the girls on the team were going to
flip out
when they saw them. Everything had been so busy since arriving in Vegas, and Evie had texted during dinner to see how she was doing, but this was too much to share in a text message. Savannah had promised to call her tomorrow morning, and she was beyond excited to hear her best friend’s reaction.

She and Peyton passed the elevated dance floor, walking through the fog seeping from the sides. It was like a jungle paradise. Then the dark-haired girl she’d seen working out with Damien passed by, hand-in-hand with a guy with brown hair. Whoever that girl was, Savannah got the impression she was always surrounded by hot guys. Sort of like Evie, but multiplied by a thousand. Evie
wished
she could get with guys as hot as Damien and whoever the gym girl was with right now. Which would make it better if something ended up happening with Damien. Evie would be so jealous, especially when she saw the pictures online.

She tried spotting Damien within the groups packed in the booths. The one with the SGA kids was obvious now that Brett had mentioned it—the boys mostly wore plaid shorts with Lacoste polos, the girls in patterned dresses that could only be from Lilly Pulitzer. They looked like the types that joined every club and did well in school. Savannah could see Courtney hanging out with people like that, if she branched out from wearing jeans, T-shirts and flip-flops every day. The move to Vegas might help Courtney lighten up and have more fun. Maybe she would even carve time out of her busy schedule to date a guy.

Crazier things were possible.

Then Savannah spotted Damien in the booth with the kids Brett had referred to as “the ones with endless money who think they’re God’s gifts to the universe.” He was involved in a conversation with a pretty girl with short blond hair, and Savannah stopped in her tracks, her confidence plummeting. The girl laughed about something he said, their heads close together like they were sharing a secret.

This was not good.

“Asshole number one, straight ahead,” Peyton said to Savannah.

Savannah glared at her sister. There was no reason for Peyton to be mean, but the two of them had different tastes in guys. Savannah had good taste—she liked guys who played sports and actually had friends—while Peyton liked losers who partied so hard they nearly failed out of school. Which meant if Peyton didn’t like Damien, he was perfect for Savannah.

“I thought he was nice,” Savannah said. “We should say hi. He told us he wanted to hang out tonight when we talked earlier.”

“He said he wanted to hang out with
you,
” Peyton corrected her. “And now he’s looking at us.” She rolled her eyes and pretended to be interested in her chipped black nail polish. “Fantastic.”

He waved them over, and Savannah couldn’t believe it. Her nerves buzzed, and she drummed her fingers together, full of anticipation for whatever the night had in store.

“I’m off to the bar,” Peyton said. “Have fun with your new friend. Try not to get in too much trouble, and make sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend first.”

Savannah gave her an irritated look. What had happened to Peyton two years ago had sucked, but that didn’t mean every guy was a jerk, as Peyton believed.

“I will,” she said, hurrying to the table before Peyton could say any more.

Damien’s attention dropped from the short-haired blonde as he watched Savannah approach. She made sure to keep a steady pace and not rush over to him. The new, sophisticated Savannah stayed calm in the presence of hot, popular guys. And whatever happened, she would
slow down
while talking to him. She took a deep breath. She could do this.

“Savannah Diamond,” Damien said once she was standing in front of him. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed at the compliment. She’d never had a guy call her beautiful before.

“So are you joining us or what?” He scooted over to make room for her. “Everyone, this is Savannah Diamond,” he said to the group, all of whom watched her as she sat down. “She’s one of Adrian Diamond’s daughters, and she got here today.”

He poured her a glass of champagne and introduced her to everyone. The blonde he was talking to was Larissa, the boy in the middle was Harrison, and she remembered a Kaitlin, a Tiffany and a James, but for the most part they all blended together. Savannah was horrible at remembering names.

“When did you get here?” Damien sipped his drink, a mixed concoction with orange juice.

“A few minutes ago,” she answered, embarrassed after she said it. Now he was going to think she’d sought him out right when she’d arrived.

Which she had, but he didn’t have to know that.

“I’m glad I snatched you up before anyone else could.” He smiled at her lazily, and her doubts disappeared. Of course he wanted to spend time with her tonight. He’d made that clear when he’d stopped by the condo. He wasn’t just waiting for someone better to come along—
she
was the one he wanted to be there with. Her heart raced, and she played with her bangle bracelets. Realizing it made her look nervous, she used both hands to hold her glass of champagne to steady them. Hopefully she would live up to his expectations.

But how was Savannah supposed to pretend this glamorous life was what she’d always known? She was from a slummy neighborhood in a town outside San Francisco. These people were going to see right through her, and it was going to be worse than when she’d messed up at the eighth-grade talent show. If Evie were here right now, she would laugh about how Savannah was pretending to be someone who didn’t exist.

At the image of Evie laughing at her, tossing back her shiny red hair at Savannah’s pathetic attempt at fitting in with these ritzy kids, Savannah made a decision. To Damien and his friends, she was an heiress to a vast hotel fortune. She was going to act like it.

“I’m glad you did, too,” she finally said.

“We should do shots to celebrate your first night here,” he decided, waving over a waiter. “Eight shots of Don Eduardo Silver.” Apparently he wasn’t giving her an option—Savannah was doing a shot. The one time she’d tried a shot, when she and Evie had sneaked into her mom’s liquor cabinet, she’d hated it. It had burned like crazy and she could only finish half of it. She’d only tried it to appease Evie. Other than that one time, she’d avoided hard alcohol, because that’s what alcoholics drank to get wasted. As long as she was only having a glass of wine with dinner, or slowly sipping champagne while hanging with friends, she wasn’t concerned about following in her mom’s footsteps and going overboard. Hard alcohol, however, was a totally different ball game.

But Savannah wasn’t about to argue with Damien. She would stop at one and pretend she didn’t mind the taste when it was setting her throat on fire.