Not that she could have, because right then the front door banged open and the noise flowed out in a syrup-thick wave. Pounding techno and yelled conversations. Two people stumbled out of the door, arms around each other. Claire blinked and recognized two of the gamers that she'd given Monica's invitation to that afternoon on campus.
"Frakkin' awesome party!" one of them screamed, and fell flat on his face.
"Apparently." Eve stepped over him and swept into the party, with Michael right behind her. Claire started to follow, but Shane's grip on her arm had tightened, and he was holding her back.
"What?" she asked, and turned to face him. God, he looked amazing. He needed to let Eve dress him all the time.
"Before we go in," he said, and bent and kissed her. Claire distantly heard the whistles and catcalls of the shot drinkers -- distantly, because the kiss was sweet and hot and wild, and there was something crazy in it that made her just quiver inside.
He pulled away way too soon. "Stay with me," he said, with his lips near her ear, and she nodded. Like I'd let you out of my sight.
And then they followed Michael and Eve into the party of the century.
It was the second big party of Claire's life -- not counting birthday parties and things where there were as many chaperones as kids. The first one, the Dead Girls' Dance thrown by the EEK fraternity, hadn't exactly come out well, what with Shane's dad going on a rampage through the place looking for vampires to stake. This one looked, if possible, even crazier.
She was grateful to be with her friends. If she'd stepped into this by herself, she couldn't imagine how scary it would be. The main hall was wide and tall, but it was jam packed with people talking, dancing, kissing, groping -- it was like the hottest dance club with all the lights up full. Claire brushed up against a couple who were -- what were they doing? She looked away before she could be sure, but the guy's hand was in places that she couldn't imagine a p**n actress allowing in public.
Michael and Eve pushed through the crowd into the next room, and Claire and Shane followed, staying close. There were a few people in the big living area who were dressed fancy, but most had on standard-issue college wear, and somehow, Claire had the distinct impression the casual-dress crowd had not come invited.
Monica was standing at the top of the stairs, arms folded, looking right at them.
"Oooh, that is a Kodak moment," Eve said, and held up her cell phone to snap a photo of Monica's scowl. "Yep. We're good."
She high-fived Shane, who seemed to be expecting it. Monica cleared the annoyance out of her expression with an effort, and started down the steps. She was dressed in a pink, clinging sheath dress with huge lime-outlined flowers climbing the fabric, and her shoes were prissy-perfect in matching pink. Very fancy.
"Claire, you brought strays," Monica said. "How nice." And then she looked strangely sorry. "Michael, I didn't mean you. You're always welcome."
He raised his pale eyebrows. "I am?"
"Of course."
Claire elbowed him. "Because you're a VIP. Vampire Important Person."
Two more of the gamers Claire had gifted with the invitation stumbled by; one grabbed Claire's arm and planted a sloppy wet kiss on her cheek. "We passed out copies," he said, and giggled. "Hope that was okay. Great party!"
Shane sighed and moved him off with one hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Naked Vulcan chick in the next room. Better hurry."
The gamers sobered up fast, and moved on. Monica's glossy, perfect lips were open, her eyes wide.
"You?" she said. "You did this? These idiots made flyers! They put them all over campus! This was supposed to be the best people!"
"Don't worry," Eve said sweetly. "We're here." She smiled, which in that lipstick was Wicked-Witch-of-the-West evil. "Air kiss!" She mwahed the air somewhere near Monica's cheek. "Lovely party. Shame about the furniture. Ta!" She sashayed on, Michael on her arm, as if she was the Queen of Everything, never mind Morganville. Claire got out her camera and got a picture of the murderous fury on Monica's face as she watched her go.
"You treacherous little bitch!" Monica snarled.
Claire lowered the phone and met her eyes for a long second. She wasn't scared, not anymore. "You got your friends to roofie me and told them I wanted it rough. All I did was recycle your invitation. Let's call it even."
"Let's call it not!"
Shane leaned forward, dropped his voice so that Monica had to work to hear it, and said, "Calm down. You get blotchy when you're angry. And if you call my girlfriend a bitch one more time, I won't be so nice about it."
Monica's eyes were fierce and fiery, but she didn't move, and after a second she turned and ran up the steps to the second floor, where her formal-dressed friends were huddled together like the cast of Survivor: Abercrombie Island.
"Score one for the little guys," Shane said. He stared at a bunch of guys wearing football shirts rumbled past, carrying a bed. Claire blinked. Yes, that was a bed. "Okay, I don't really think I want to know. So. Drinks?"
In the kitchen, a group was making punch in a trash can. Claire hoped it was a new trash can, but as blitzed as the guys were who were pouring stuff in, she really couldn't be sure of that.
"I'd avoid that," Shane said, mouth close to her ear. "See anybody you know?"
She wasn't sure. There was barely room to move in here, with people crowding up to the counters, and streaming in and out with red plastic cups in their hands ...
A shock zipped down her spine. "Yeah," she said. "I see somebody."