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“Oh my GOD!” I shriek, channeling my inner ditzy blonde cheerleader. I yank myself away from Trip and rush across the room, snatching the girl away from the creep and beaming at her.

“How have you been, girl?!” I say. When she frowns in confusion, I roll my eyes. “It’s Bisby!”

“Didn’t Tucker say your name was Brinleigh?” Trip mutters behind me in cocaine-addled confusion.

“It’s Brinleigh!” I correct myself, not that any of these coked-up assholes even really registers the screw up. I shove between the girl and the fucker who was trying to feel her up. “From Havershore Academy! Girl, it’s been forever!”

The piece of shit I just shoved away from her sighs in frustration and elbows Trip before they both head over to the bar and start doing more lines of coke.

“I’m sorry,” the girl says with embarrassment. “I-I don’t think I know you⁠—”

I drop the act as I turn back to her.

“Do you know any of these other girls?” I mutter. There are six other terrifyingly young girls here.

Her throat works as she nods. “Most of them, yeah.”

I nod. “In sixty seconds, I’m going to cause a commotion. When I do, I need you to round up your friends and any other girls and get the fuck out of here. Understand?”

She nods quickly, still looking distraught.

Damiano shoots me a “WTF are you doing” look from where he’s been pulled into a coke-fueled conversation about crypto with two of the fuckers.

“Follow my lead,” I mouth at him, hiding my grin at the pained look on his face when he realizes “the plan” is about to be scattered to the four winds.

I mean, really, it’s on him if he didn’t see this coming.

“Ooooo!” I coo dramatically as I approach Trip and the other guy and arch my brows at the seriously huge pile of cocaine on the bar.

Trip grins. “Looks like someone wants to party after all.”

“Want a line, baby?” the other guy smirks, coming close to me and sliding his hand down the small of my back. I bite back the need to snap off his fingers and gouge his eyes out with them.

“Sure!” I giggle, tossing my hair.

Trip starts to chop some of the coke into a line with his credit card. That’s when I lean down, fake a giant sneeze, and blow probably thirty thousand dollars' worth of narcotics into the air.

Not surprisingly, the douchebags in the room go apeshit.

All eight of them drop everything—drinks, crypto conversations, the girls they’re trying to get handsy with—to rush over to the bar in a tizzy, the music instantly dying as they scramble for the drugs.

“I am so sorry!” I gasp dramatically, clutching my hands to my chest.

I glance behind me and grin.

Good.

The girl from a minute ago is doing exactly what I told her to. She and the other girls are huddled together, looking utterly relieved to be getting the fuck out of here as Damiano walks them over to the door, giving the confused bouncers outside some bullshit explanation that has them nodding and letting the girls slip out of the room.

“What the fuck, bitch?!”

Trip is on his hands and knees on the ground trying to scoop cocaine onto a bar napkin, but then fury fills his eyes as he lurches to his feet and whirls on me.

“Are you fucking stupid?!”

“I’m sooooo sorry!” I gush. “I can pay for it!”

Another guy chokes out a cold laugh. “That was fifty fucking grand in coke, you dumb slut.”