The Secret Diamond Sisters, page 5
She sat up quickly, the world blurring. Was it Adrian? His note said he wouldn’t be done with his meeting until they finished unpacking, but maybe the meeting hadn’t taken as long as he’d expected. Her stomach flipped, and she looked at her sisters in panic. Could they be about to meet their father? Was she ready to meet her father? She had no idea what she was supposed to do, or what she should say. She wished more than anything her mom or grandma were there to help.
“We should get that.” Courtney’s face paled, her voice so calm that Savannah knew she must be freaking out inside. At least the three of them had each other. They would get through this together.
“What joy,” Peyton huffed, and rolled her eyes. “We get to meet the jerk who screwed us—and Mom—over for our whole lives. This will be enlightening.” Her sarcasm made it clear she thought it would be anything but.
“We should at least listen to what he has to say,” Savannah said, standing up and straightening her shirt. Her body tingled with nerves to the point that she felt like her blood was about to burst out of her skin. Needing to do something with her hands, she ran them through her hair to brush out the tangles. She could do this. Satisfied with her reflection, she marched past her sisters and pulled the front door open.
Standing in front of her was the hot guy she’d seen at the gym. His dark brown hair was messed up in a sexy “just finished working out” way, his black T-shirt clung to his defined abs and his tanned skin glowed as if he spent every day lounging around a pool.
Savannah’s arm dropped to her side, and she stared up at him, speechless. What was he doing here? She’d never had a superhot guy show up at her doorstep. She had no idea what to say to him. If Evie were here, she would come up with something perfect. But she would also take the attention away from Savannah. The tough part about having Evie as a best friend was that they always liked the same guys. And then the guys liked Evie more than Savannah, so Savannah got stuck with the second choice.
This move to Vegas might be the perfect chance to break away from Evie’s shadow. Could Savannah become a different—improved—version of herself just from wanting to?
She wouldn’t know if she didn’t try.
“Who are you?” Peyton narrowed her eyes at the guy and snapped her gum. Of course she had to steal the attention by talking to the hot guy first.
“Damien Sanders,” he replied, barely looking at Peyton before turning back to Savannah. Her heart jumped—maybe all wasn’t lost. “I live on the floor below yours, and noticed you walking by while I was working out in the gym. I didn’t know if you knew anyone here yet, so I figured I would stop over and introduce myself.”
Wow. Not only was he hot, but he was supernice, too.
“No, we don’t know anyone here yet,” Savannah answered, her words coming out faster than she intended. Evie said she always knew when Savannah was nervous because she turned into a talking chipmunk. She took a breath and forced herself to slow down. “Except for you now. We just got here today—we moved here to stay with our dad for a while. I’m Savannah.”
Damien leaned lazily against the door frame. “So you’re the infamous Diamond sisters?”
“Infamous?” Savannah asked. “I’m one of the Diamond sisters, but I didn’t know we were infamous.”
“I’m kidding.” He laughed. “There’s just been some talk about you three, and everyone’s been curious to meet you.”
“Oh, okay.” Savannah knew Adrian Diamond was well-known, but she hadn’t realized that meant people would talk about her and her sisters, too. “Who’s everyone?”
“Just some of us who go to the Goodman School,” he said. “A few of us live here and in nearby condos. Your dad made a donation for the school’s new sports center, and the talk is you’ll be attending in the fall.”
Savannah had hoped her mom would get better before the end of summer so she wouldn’t have to start her sophomore year with total strangers. She bit her lower lip, trying to figure out how to reply in a way that wouldn’t make her sound clueless. “We haven’t talked with our dad about school yet.”
Well, they hadn’t talked to their dad at all yet, but Damien didn’t have to know that. And Savannah hadn’t realized that donations—or any payments—were necessary to go to school. At Fairfield High, new kids just signed up on their first day.
“Too bad,” Damien said. “You’ll have to let me know when you find out. But you’ll be at the Fourth of July party at Myst tonight, right?”
“Yes.” Savannah breathed a sigh of relief at the mention of something she knew a little bit about. That was the place Adrian had mentioned in his note. “Have you been there before?”
“Been there before...” He repeated her question, lingering on every syllable. “Of course I’ve been there before. It’s the hottest new club on the Strip. And it’s the best, just like everything else at the Diamond.”
“Then I can’t wait to check it out tonight,” she said, proud of how cool and collected she sounded. Maybe just being in Vegas would shape her into the Savannah Diamond she dreamed of becoming. Perhaps a talent agent would discover her, and then her dreams of being a pop star would come true.
“You’ll have fun.” He sounded confident, like it was impossible for her to not enjoy herself. “A bunch of us are going to dinner before the party. You three should come.”
“We can’t.” Peyton crossed her arms and glared at Damien, as if he were doing something to seriously piss her off. What was her problem?
Damien ignored her and turned back to Savannah.
“We already have dinner plans with our dad,” Savannah explained, the word dad feeling alien coming from her lips. “Otherwise I would go. But we’ll be at Myst afterwards.”
“I’ll find you there, then,” he said. “My friends and I will be on the third floor—it’s VIP—but I’m sure that’s where you’ll be, too.”
“Right.” Savannah tried to act unfazed, even though she’d never been VIP for anything before. But obviously they would be VIP here, since Adrian—their dad—owned the building. Well, buildings. “Does the club let everyone in? I’m not eighteen yet, so I hope that won’t be a problem....”
“Not eighteen?” Damien faked disbelief in a fun, joking way to let her know he’d already figured that out. “Really?”
“Really.” Savannah laughed. “I’m fifteen.”
“And the rest of you?” He looked at Courtney and Peyton.
“Sixteen,” Courtney answered, sounding like she wanted to be anywhere but here. Savannah wished she could at least pretend to be interested.
“And you?” he asked Peyton.
“Nineteen,” she lied, crossing her arms and giving Damien a stare of death, as if she were daring him to contradict her. Damien didn’t bother. Instead he looked back at Savannah, his eyes gleaming with the knowledge that Peyton was lying.
Savannah couldn’t believe the attention he was giving her. “She’s seventeen,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“Same as me,” Damien said. “But thanks for the honesty. I like that in a girl.” He paused to let the words sink in, and continued, “You’re supposed to be over twenty-one to get into the club, but if you’re on the VIP list they won’t bother you. Which you will be.”
“Okay.” Savannah couldn’t stop smiling. Being around Damien made her feel like she’d downed a venti cappuccino. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”
“It was nice meeting you.” Damien flashed her one last grin before turning to walk down the hall. Savannah thought he was going to leave it at that, but then he called over his shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight.”
She waved to him and closed the door. After it was shut she leaned against it and smiled, her heart beating so fast that she could float away from happiness. He was the hottest guy she’d ever met—and it seemed like he was interested in her. Not Courtney, who was tall and gorgeous even when she didn’t wear makeup, or Peyton, who was fearless and not afraid to speak her mind. She might have even sounded sophisticated when she talked to him, as if hot guys invited her to VIP parties at trendy nightclubs all the time.
The day couldn’t get more amazing than this.
chapter 6:
A bellboy had dropped off their bags after they’d finished talking to Damien, and Courtney now stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room, frowning. What should she wear when meeting her father? Her jeans and T-shirts didn’t fit in with everything she’d seen in Vegas so far, which was loud, flashy and sparkly. Meaning the opposite of Courtney. She had only three dresses—the ones she wore to church before her mom had started drinking so much that she was too hungover on Sunday morning to drive them. Hopefully one of those would be acceptable to wear to dinner. The nicest restaurants she’d been to were Applebee’s and Macaroni Grill, and she suspected the ones in the Diamond were a few steps above those.
She took off the flowery blue dress and replaced it with a pink one that had white lace on the top and bottom. She normally wore this dress with a jacket, and the spaghetti straps made it the most revealing one she owned even though it fell two inches above her knee.
Would it be acceptable to wear to a fancy dinner and a club in Las Vegas? She had no idea. But she did know that her flip-flops weren’t going to fly. Flip-flops were pretty much all she owned, though. She was already taller than most of the guys in her grade, so wearing heels made her feel like a clumsy giraffe. Then there was the practical issue that heels hurt. It didn’t make sense to wear shoes that blistered her feet when flip-flops were a more comfortable solution.
She studied her reflection and sighed. No way did she look ready to go to a fancy dinner. She needed Savannah’s help. Savannah studied fashion magazines and was great at finding similar-looking items for practical prices.
She headed to Savannah’s room for advice, amazed at the magnificence of the condo as she walked through it. Was this real? She felt like an intruder, unable to shake the feeling that the actual person who lived there would walk in at any second and ask her what she thought she was doing snooping around somewhere she didn’t belong.
In their apartment in California, the furniture had been crammed together, the rooms dark and dreary. Here, the windows overlooking the Las Vegas Strip let in tons of sun, the ceilings were fifteen feet high and everything inside sparkled like it was brand-new. It was so airy and spacious, with furniture that looked too expensive to use without worrying about messing it up. She couldn’t believe she would be living here. That she was living here.
Then she realized she was acting like Savannah—so enamored with their new life that she could forget everything she’d left behind. Hopefully their mother was doing well in rehab. Her throat tightened at the thought. She missed the days before her mom had started drinking all the time. She remembered one Saturday night in particular, when their mom had stayed up with them for hours watching a DVD of Savannah’s favorite CW television show. They’d ordered in pizza, and their mom had used her curling iron to style their hair, pinning them into elaborate updos they could have worn to prom.
Their mom had always drunk more than other people’s parents, but before she’d lost her job, she’d managed to go a few days at a time without getting trashed. That’s when they would have fun nights like that, when they felt like a normal family. But that had stopped in the past year. As their mom’s drinking spiraled, it had made her look sick on the outside, too—she’d gained weight, her eyes, which used to be bright blue, became glassy and bloodshot with puffy dark circles beneath them, the skin on her face had turned wrinkly and red and her dark blond hair had become dull and limp. As hard as it was, Courtney knew rehab was the best choice. Once their mom got better, they would have that other woman in their lives all the time—the one who watched TV with them and fixed their hair like they were about to attend a magnificent ball. If that were possible, it was worth enduring a few weeks, or even months, in Las Vegas.
Courtney blinked away tears and knocked on Savannah’s door. The radio blared from inside, and Savannah was singing along, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She had a beautiful voice—it was too bad she was terrified to sing in public. Her dreams of being a famous singer would never come true if she didn’t get over her stage fright. But no matter how much Courtney encouraged her by complimenting her talent, Savannah insisted she was only saying those things because she was her sister.
“Come in!” Savannah yelled, lowering the volume as Courtney walked inside.
Savannah stood in front of the mirrored wall, admiring the flowy aqua dress she had on, which was short enough to be a long shirt. The high waistband reminded Courtney of the style popular in the Regency era, and the V-neckline dropped low, but not so low that it looked inappropriate on a fifteen-year-old. Not that Savannah had much in the upper region to show off.
“Hey,” Savannah said, as she attempted to tease her hair. “I wish we had time to go shopping before dinner—I had the hardest time picking out what to wear tonight. I can’t wait to get a new wardrobe.”
“What about the stuff you like?” Courtney asked. “You’re not going to get rid of it, are you?”
“I’ll find stuff I like better.” Savannah plucked a tube of pink lip gloss from her vanity and leaned closer to the mirror to apply it. “Now that we can buy what we want, it doesn’t make sense to shop at big discount stores anymore. It’ll be great to get real designer clothes instead of imitations.”
Courtney didn’t like how Savannah was so willing to leave her old life behind. “I can help you go through your clothes so you can decide what to keep,” she suggested, since Savannah wouldn’t get through such a meticulous task without Courtney sitting by her side to keep her focused. “Then we’ll find the local Goodwill and donate what you don’t want.”
“Good idea,” Savannah said. “Let’s go shopping this week, and when we’re done you can help me sort through my stuff.”
Courtney nodded, although she hoped Savannah wasn’t going to go too crazy with buying things. Then she remembered why she was here. “Do you think this looks okay?” she asked, motioning to her dress. “I usually wear it with a sweater.”
Savannah stepped back and examined Courtney’s outfit, raising her index finger to her chin like this was the most important assessment in the world. “It’s fine, and you definitely don’t need the sweater,” she finally said. “We’re going to dinner in Vegas—not church at home. And flip-flops? Really? Please tell me you weren’t actually thinking of wearing those. I’ll find something else.” She ran to Courtney’s room, coming back a minute later holding the pair of shiny white pumps she’d forced Courtney to buy at a clearance sale at Payless last year. Courtney had tossed them into the back of her closet, so they were still brand-new. “These would be much better.”
Courtney put them on and looked into the mirror. She hated the extra height, but Savannah was right. The white pumps transformed the dress. “I guess it does make a big difference,” she said, practicing walking a few unsteady steps. Hopefully her feet wouldn’t be covered in blisters by the end of the night.
“More than that!” Savannah insisted. “It makes you look like a supermodel. Anyway, what’d you think of Damien? He’s hot, right?”
Courtney shivered at the memory of the conversation they’d had with him earlier. They hadn’t talked with him for long, but she’d gotten a bad vibe from him. He seemed too...smooth. It was rare for someone that attractive and overconfident to have good intentions. Courtney wasn’t an expert with guys—she’d never had a boyfriend—but the way he’d eyed Savannah when he’d mentioned seeing her tonight unnerved her. She didn’t want Savannah getting in over her head with him.
“He’s attractive,” she said. “But you need to be careful. The guys here aren’t like the ones in Fairfield.”
“What do you mean?” Savannah asked.
“There’s just something about him I don’t trust.”
“Well, I thought he seemed nice.” Savannah picked up her straightener from the vanity and ran it through her hair. “And you don’t know him, so it isn’t fair of you to judge him.”
“It’s just a vibe I got,” Courtney said.
“You and your vibes.” Savannah rolled her eyes. “But he seemed into me, right?”
“He was giving you more attention than Peyton or me,” she said truthfully.
“Good,” Savannah said. “I thought so, too, but I wanted to make sure. I hope he doesn’t have a girlfriend. But it didn’t seem like it from the way he was talking to us. I mean, he was practically asking me out. Don’t you think?”
The doorbell rang before Courtney could respond. She’d have to deal with Savannah’s infatuation with Damien later—preferably after she gathered more evidence of how he was not the type of guy that Savannah, or any girl with self-respect, should swoon over.
