Page 28 of The Dinner Party

“Hello again, Sloan,” he says.

Although what he really means is “goodbye,” because at that moment, he slashes the blade of the butcher knife against your throat.

You collapse to the floor, clutching your neck and gasping for air. You know it’s a lost cause, though. You’ve seen many movies where people have had their throats cut, and none of them ever live. You are going to die.

And the last words you hear before you lose consciousness are, “Don’t you think she’d go well with a nice béarnaise sauce?”

THE END

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48

That chef brandishing a knife behind you is totally suspicious. You don’t know exactly why he wants to hurt you, but it’s very clear what his intentions are. And you’re not going to let him get away with it.

You whirl around, holding the metal tray over your head. When Jacques sees what you’re doing, his eyes widen in surprise, and he doesn’t have time to react before you bring the tray crashing down on his scalp. He falls to the floor, unconscious. The butcher knife clatters from his hand.

“Hey!” Mr. Wentworth cries. “What do you think you’re doing?”

To your horror, it looks like he is fumbling for a knife of his own on the kitchen counter. You don’t have time to waste—you’ve got to get out of here. No job is worth getting your throat slashed by a bunch of psychopaths. God knows what they were thinking.

You hurry out of the kitchen, but you must cut through the dining room in order to get out. Avery has already set the table, and despite everything, you have to admit that the effect is magical. The fine china and silverware gleam under the light of the chandelier. It looks like it will be a lovely dinner—too bad you won’t be around to see it.

Just as you’re trying to figure out the best way out of here, you notice that a brand new picture has been hung on the wall of the dining room. There’s no time to admire the artwork, but somehow your eyes are drawn to this photo of whatever will be served for their meal tonight. You lock in on the image, moving closer to get a better look. It takes a moment for your brain to comprehend the subject of this new photograph.

It’s you.

Turn to Chapter 49 (page 118)

49

Oh God. You were for dinner tonight. The chef was going to kill you, and then cook you, and serve you to all those rich people. And the oven was going to know exactly how long to cook you to get you nice and crispy.

Carson was right. You are in danger.

You’ve got to get out of here. You’ve got to make a run for your car and get as far away from here as you possibly can.

You stumble out of the dining room, not sure exactly where you’re going, but just knowing that you have to get the hell out of here—now. As soon as you get back into the hallway, you run smack into Avery. Oh, thank God.

“Avery!” You grab her more roughly than you intended. “We’ve got to get out of here! Right now!”

Avery’s eyes widen. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“These people are out of their minds!” you cry. “The chef in the kitchen tried to kill me! I think… This sounds insane, but I think they were going to eat me.”

“Eat you?” Avery gasps. “Sloan, are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” A sob bursts from your throat. “I’ve got to get out of here right now. Which way is the exit?”

“The exit?”

“Yes, the exit! I need to get out of here!”

“Right, right…” Avery looks around, rubbing her chin. “Actually, if you really need to get out of here, and you don’t want anyone to see you, there’s a secret exit through the back. That’s probably the safest way if you really think that you’re, you know, in danger.”

“Great! What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

“Well, okay. Let me just get my⁠—”