TweetyGram

30 - #Sweet21

As we climbed up the red carpet-lined steps, Charity donned a smile so huge her face almost cracked into two. "Ginger! I didn't think you would make it!"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss this for the world." I grinned. "Happy twenty-third birthday, Charity."

She drew a sharp breath and flicked her eyes around us before she roared with the fakest laughter. "Oh, Ginger. You're always so funny. It's my twenty-first birthday. See?" She pointed to the banner on the balcony that read Happy #Sweet21 Cher Quinn!

"Of course." Keep deluding yourself, Charity.

"Zach, isn't it?" She switched her gaze to the man standing beside me.

"It's Jake," he corrected.

"Oh, sorry. I'm terrible with names," she replied, obviously lying. "So, how are things between you two and your . . . ex-girlfriend?"

"Ah, yes. Poor Louise." Jake pulled his mouth into a tight line and shook his head. "She died a few days ago."

I nearly choked on air. What the . . .

I had created a good excuse to get rid of Jake's crazy ex-girlfriend. She was supposed to be arrested and incarcerated after getting into a random bar fight that led to the death of two very unfortunate people. It was plausible, and it would still explain not having Jake's photo on my TweetyGram because she could be released—or escape—from jail anytime soon.

On our way here, I'd told Jake about it. But apparently, he thought killing his crazy ex-girlfriend off would be a better idea.

"OMG." Charity held a hand over her chest, a look of horror contorting her face. "What happened?"

"She was hit by a bus," Jake answered calmly. "Nobody saw it coming. So tragic."

As I smashed my lips together to smother a laugh, Charity simply stood there and gaped at Jake, a defeated look on her face. Shutting Charity's wicked mouth up wasn't an easy feat. The fact that Jake managed to do so in under a minute made me want to kiss him.

Wait. That doesn't sound right.

"Cher." A woman with an earpiece and a clipboard stopped next to Charity. "It's time."

Charity gave the event organizer a nod before returning her attention to Jake and me. "Come in. The party's going to start soon. It's going to be fun!"

There was something eerie in Charity's smile that raised the hair on my nape. I should've run for my life, but the trays of mouthwatering hors d'oeuvres the waiters carried around the room begged me to stay.

Oh, well. I'm already here. Might as well enjoy the free food. What's the worst that could happen anyway?

"Hey, want to take a picture?" Jake gestured at the Hollywood-themed photo booth on our right.

A couple of teenagers showed off their pearly whites on the red carpet against a cheesy backdrop emblazoned with Charity's photo. A snake-like queue of people stood in line behind them, waiting to strike a pose like A-listers at the premiere of a star-studded movie.

"Nope," I replied with a shake of my head. "I'd rather die than stand in line to take a picture with Charity's huge face behind me."

Jake chuckled. "Alright."

As Jake and I walked past the photo booth, I teased, "So, hit by a bus, huh?"

"What? It's possible."

I smirked. "You've been watching too many chick flicks."

His eyes went wide and his cheeks turned pink. "I'll go get us some drinks."

"I'll come with you."

We crossed the room to the bar near the grand staircase, careful not to get in the way of guests—influencers—who were live-streaming themselves enjoying the party. The vast entrance hall was packed with teenagers and young adults dressed in fancy evening attires. Among them were the cast and crew of Malibu, 90265 and some up-and-coming Hollywood talents such as Henry Stickles and Serena Lopez.