Chapter 9: Layla

"Let’s go." I snap my seat belt into place, and Morgan beeps the horn as she drives away. I’m so underdressed, but I always am. Morgan looks presentable from the window. Her red dress has a high neck with long sleeves, but it’s cut off, barely covering her behind. Her long tanned legs go on forever. My skinny black jeans and green blouse look so bland and ugly compared to these girls. Both of her friends are dressed to kill in halter dresses.

"So, where are we going?" I ask as Morgan pumps up the music. The thump of the beat penetrates the dashboard. Crossing my arms, I try not to fidget or look behind me as the girls in the back whisper and giggle. The smell of cigarette smoke lingers, the scent making my queasy stomach more unsettled.

"Woodview Estate in Mullagh. A guy I know is friends with a guy who lives there." Morgan looks at me for the first time. The flick of her gaze across my outfit is done with raised eyebrows.

Shifting in my seat, I turn more toward Morgan. At that angle, I can slightly see one of the girls in the back. Our eyes clash, and she winks at me. The car feels too warm suddenly, and I open the top button of my blouse.

"I have a curfew, Morgan," I lie. Woodview Estate has a bad repetition. It’s one thing going there during daylight hours but another thing to go there at night. Her vagueness on who is hosting the party causes a tightness in my chest.

More sniggers erupt from the back. Morgan glances at her friends in the mirror with narrowed eyes. "I’ll have you back in time. Relax, Lola," Morgan replies.

Wow!

"My name is Layla," I say through gritted teeth. I sit back and face the window this time.

Morgan mutters, "Sorry." The streetlights soon thin out as we leave our small town and make the short journey to Mullagh.

"Oh my God. Les just texted." The music is switched off, and Morgan bounces in her seat, glancing from the mirror to the road.

"What did she say, Bonita?"

"Mindy is drunk and she kissed Deco."

Morgan inhales a sharp breath while both girls squeal in the back with excitement. I don’t know who Mindy or Deco are. All I want is for this night to be over so I can go home and climb into bed and tick off this outing. I won’t have to do this again for three more months. That’s the silver lining.

"What a tramp!" Bonita says, tilting my seat slightly as she pulls herself forward. "I mean, she was only with Kieran, like, last week."

Morgan inhales deeply again at the scandal. "Oh, I thought he was seeing you, Bea?" Silence fills the car as the tension grows. I hide my grin as I look out the window.

Finally, Bea laughs. "No, I dumped him ages ago. Me and Kieran are history from, like, really far back. So far…"

Well, that isn’t transparent or anything. Morgan and Bonita overlook Bea’s hurt and lies. They start slashing Mandy—or is it Mindy?—instead. The poor girl really takes a bashing.

The house we pull up to doesn’t look like one that’s hosting a party. From the road, no lights shine from any of the front windows. Morgan turns down the music as she pulls in along the curb.

"Is this it?" Bea speaks up from the back. I glance at Morgan, curious too. Maybe I’ll get lucky and the party will be called off. She’s scrolling through her phone.

"Does it say number six?"

I wait for one of her friends to check.

"Layla!" Morgan pokes my leg.

"Sorry, I didn’t think you were talking to me." I look at the number hanging beside the door. Yep, the gold number says six. I relay this, and we all climb out of the car. Shifting from foot to foot, I clutch my bag.

As Bea and Bonita climb out of the back of the car, I get my first proper look at them. They look like hookers.

"Morgan, are you sure?" I have a bad feeling about this place. The girls giggle behind me while linking arms with each other.

Morgan reaches for the buttons on my blouse and unbuttons two more before trying to wrestle my bag from me.

"You look like a granny. Give me the bag," she snarls at me.

I pull my bag back, having enough of her. "Better than looking like a hooker." I say the words before I can think. Bea drags in a sharp breath. Morgan stands back, and shame burns my face.

"You’re just jealous," Morgan seethes.

"I’m sorry, Morgan. I shouldn’t have said that."

"I’m freezing. Can we go inside already?" Bea jumps up and down in her tiny outfit, her boobs almost pouring out of her dress. I don’t want to go into the party, but standing outside on a dark night in the middle of an estate isn’t the brightest idea.

Morgan gives my bag one final look before clicking her fingers. "Let’s do this, bitches."

I fall into place behind them. A shiver crawls up my back and prickles my neck. There’s nothing wrong. You’re overreacting like always.

The closer we get to the house, the clearer the music and voices become—my pulse spikes.

Morgan knocks on the door.

"Is my lip gloss still on?" Bea asks Bonita, who pouts her own lips before answering.

"Yeah, you look hot." They bump hips.

Morgan knocks on the door again before pulling down her dress. The action is pointless since every step she takes allows us all to get a view of her white thong.

"You’re hot too, Bonita," Bea says.

I’m focused on the door and praying that no one answers Morgan’s insistent knocks.

"Maybe we should go," I say just as the door opens.