"Are you coming with me to pick up your mother from the airport?" My father asks.

"No, I'd rather not be stuck in the back of a car for an hour and a half."

"Well, is there a reason you're in the house? You haven't spent a Friday night in since you were fourteen," My dad straightens his tie in the mirror on the wall.

"I haven't decided whether or not I want to do anything tonight." In other words, do I want to deal withAudrey or Trevor?

"Well, Mrs.Kendal called to wish us a happy anniversary and since I assumed it was your doing, I had to say 'thank you'...now I can't invite her to our anniversary party in three months. Why have you done this?"

"Ugh," I groan, "Jace wanted to hang out this weekend, and I didn't want to hurt his feelings so I lied...I'll fix it, don't worry."

"I know you will," He smiles at me, "you're a Blakely."

You're a Blakely.

Why do names carry so much weight? When you hear names like "Crawford" or even "Trump" you immediately associate them with fame and wealth. But when you're in New York, "Blakely" means power. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a last name that only means something to you. What would it be like to be someone who is no one to everyone else?

I'm wrong for complainingI'm grateful, I really am, but everything is so predictable this way. I guarantee there's another girl like me with a friend group like mine who will end up just like her parents too— and it always leads back to the name. You can't divert from the path...

I wanted to stay home tonight, but a series of events are leading me to a classic Bailey party to find Jace.

I head up the stairs and down the long hall until I reach my bedroom. On my dresser lies diamonds, pearls, and other, beautiful inexplicably expensive jewels that have accumulated over birthdays and holidays. Unfortunately for them, I'm not in the mood to accessorize. I sigh and look over at the vanity my mother insisted be built for me when I turned eleven years old. "You're in junior high, now, darling. It's time to prepare for the world of makeup." I guess I'm not in the mood for that either. All I really need tonight is a dress.

I open the doors to my closet and walk in. Everything's in season, my mother would never allow me to be caught dead in something that isn't "current." However, each time she scours through my closet to throw away perfectly good clothes, she unknowingly makes a very sizable donation to charity. The people who work for her are fond of me, and thanks to them, homeless people are now seen in last season's designer.

I grab a casual dress out of my closet and lay it on my bed before returning to pick out a pair of heels to match it. I settle on the pair of black Louboutin's stilettos that I got from Christian himself on my trip to France last spring.

I debated on getting dressed right then and there but I'd rather take a long hot shower first. Plus, it's only seven and Trevor likes to keep people waiting until at least nine-thirty. He attracts lines the way exclusive nightclubs do.You'd think he was the owner of Studio 54, though he might as well be— everything is just as scandalous.

But...I think it gets boring after a while. I stopped going to his parties sometime last year. The same people showed up each time to do the exact same thing we did the weekend before. At that point, you have to question what you're getting out of it. His guest list never changes, but at least that will come in handy tonight.

"Ah, my fries are cold, you gonna eat yours?" Matt asks and I shake my head before pushing the basket over to him.

"You know, we should really lay off all the junk."

"What are you talking about 'junk?' We're at Johnny's." Matt narrows his eyes at me.

"Yeah, but we can't eat this stuff every day. Once or twice isn't that bad but, c'mon, you practically eat grease for breakfast," I shrug. We come here all the time, there's great food, good music, working A.C., and customer service is pretty cool too since we're regulars. It's our hang out, but it wouldn't hurt to bite into a vegetable once in a while. I went up the stairs today with a kid who started hyperventilating halfway through— it scared me.

"So, Leo, guess what?" Danny smiles slyly, meaning whatever he wants me to guess will probably get me into some trouble.

"What is it this time, Danny?" I shake my head in amusement.

"Val called me and told me to come over later, Cherry's there and she asked for you."

"Cherry, huh?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Yes, Cherry Marshall. I know you two have a thing."

"I don't know, man. I'm not really up for it, tonight."

"What do you mean you're not up for it? Since when aren't you up for Cherry?"

"I am!" Zach says with wide eyes after he finishes slurping down his strawberry milkshake.

"Yeah, right." Danny laughs, "what would I look like bringing you to Cherry Marshall?"

"You want to play board games with her, Zach?" Matt teases, "you want her to help you with your algebra homework?"

"You're fourteen, does your mom even know you're outside right now?" I chime in. "Don't you have a curfew?"

"I'm not your babysitter, Zach. I can't have a freshman tagging along when I go see my girlfriend and her too old for you, redheaded friend." Danny pats him on the back. "Sorry, kid."

"I'm not a kid, and it's not fair that you guys always leave me behind," Zach huffs.

"Don't be like that," I say apologetically, "we only leave you behind when we're doing...adult things." Like...scoring drugs, or scoring with girls. I'm not even sure how Zach made it this far into our group. I probably had something to do with it, I like him, he's cool. Better him with us than another group that would take advantage of how impressionable he still is.

"You don't let me come to parties with you guys. Those parties aren't for adults."

"Once again, not your babysitter," Danny shrugs. "You still have a bedtime."

"Whatever, Danny." Zach continued to pout and toy with the straw in his milkshake.

"Fine," I give in. "You want to go to a party? I'll take you to a party." What can I say? I'm a sucker for the kid. He's like a little brother to me, and I've always wanted a little brother. "Matt can go with Danny to bang Val and Cherry."

"Really? You-" Danny covers Zach's mouth.

"What party?" Danny glares at me.

"A central party," I smirk.

"And how do you plan on getting in? Centrals host invite-only."

"It's not a party if no one crashes it."

"...I'm coming with," Danny crosses his arms.

"What about Val?"

"What about Cherry?" Matt looks heartbroken, he jumped at a chance to take my spot in visiting her.

"We can pick them up on the way," Danny shrugs, "I'll drive, my van's the only thing that can fit all of us."

"Ah— I don't think we should pick up the girls. Val would probably prefer for you to just stay the night with her." I honestly don't care what Val wants, I just don't want Cherry expecting anything from me if she shows up. Every guy in the Lower East Side knows how attached Cherry gets to guys. I've already hooked up with her three times, if I do it again she'll think I like her...and her dad will fucking kill me if I make her cry.

"Are you kidding me? Do you know how many points I'll score if I take Val to a central party? She loves that stuff."

Yeah, I can tell by all the fake Prada she has.

"When's the party? Can we go now?" Zach smiles. He's either buzzing with excitement or on the verge of a sugar crash.

I lift my wrist to check my watch for the time. "It's nine, yeah, we can leave now."

Danny grabs his keys off the table and we all slide out of the booth, leaving about twenty dollars on the table to cover the check.

Danny parked his van out front, and I can't help but wonder how conspicuous we'll look driving through upper Manhattan in this. His van is gray and rusted, it needs a new coat of paint really badly. There's red carpet on the inside, along with empty beer cans and cigarette cartons. It's a seven-seater but the entire back row doesn't have seatbelts.

I sighed as I slid into the passenger's seat.

"Let's go crash a party," Danny smiled.

"Hi, uh— I'm on the list." I try not to look at the cold and annoyed people scowling at me for being able to skip the line.

"Name?" The bouncer raises his eyebrows.

"Blakely, Heather Blakely." I run my hands down my cold arms.

"No Blakely up here," he presses his lips together.

"What?" I narrow my eyes at him, "Can you check again? This is my boyfriend's house, I'm on the list." It doesn't matter who made it, whether it was Trevor or Jace, I should be up there.

The bouncer laughs, "Yeah? Well, maybe he broke up with you because you're not on the list."

"Can you just go get him or something? I swear I'm not lying."

"No, unless you have an invitation, you're not getting in." He crosses his arms.

Are you kidding me? The invitations are for people who need to work to get invited. Trevor usually has them doing wildly irrational things just for a chance to get into the party.

"Do you not know who I am?" I cringe once I say it but...he should know.

"Lady, I couldn't care less. You could be the queen of the Netherlands and you still wouldn't get into this party." He turns away from me to tend to the line again.

"You know what? Fine, but you better hope I don't get in because you'll-"

"Heather?" My name is called right before I could threaten the man further. I turn and my eyes land on a van that is probably from the '60s, I can imagine it previously having a giant peace sign painted on the side of it and hippies in the back getting baked beyond belief. The van pulls up to the curb and staring out from the window is Leo Rylin.

"What are you doing on this side of Manhattan?" I approach the...vehicle?

"Keeping you from being arrested, apparently," he smirks, obviously having witnessed the little altercation between me and a certain bouncer.

"Whatever," I sigh and turn to walk away from him but he grabs my hand.

"Why don't you just call your friends to let you in?"

"Because," I sigh, "the phones are unhooked, and they take everything once you get inside. There can't be any pictures, videos, or any proof of what happens at the party." I roll my eyes at the looks of content they all have thinking about what devious things might happen inside. A younger boy who was standing behind Leo walks up next to him and smiles as he nudges him. Leo then messes up his hair like he's a dog and smiles at him as well.

I'm sure the kid is not old enough to be attending one of these parties.

"If you're trying to get in, you should just come with us," Leo suggests and I see more people step out of the van.

"There's no way in without an invitation."

"Name one place that only has one door?" He smiles slyly and walks in the direction of the line. I watch him for a second until he's out of sight, his friends follow after him as they all casually disappear around the building.

"He's going around back," I laugh to myself, "of course."

He's got the right idea, the back door won't be locked because the servers have to use it. They're still not going to be able to sneak in unnoticed. Not without me, at least.

I hurriedly tread the sidewalk as gently as possible because my shoes don't deserve to be abused. I see Leo and his friends crouched down behind a dumpster as one of the caters tosses out wasted food. Once she walks back, she leaves the door slightly open as if she plans to come back out again.

"Well," I say to him, "are you coming or not?"

"This never gets old," Trevor smiles while two girls hold onto him and kiss his neck.

"You should slow down," I chuckle when I see him take out a bag of pills.

"You'll never be as young as you are now. Live every day like it's your last," He says poetically and places a pill on both of the girls' tongues, not taking one himself, though. "Don't worry, Jace, you know I don't do narcotics. But my girls? Who am I to stop them?"

"Excuse me-" I stop one of the cater girls. "Can you bring us two more bottles, please?"

"And some ice...lots of it." Trevor's eyes scan down the lady's body. I wasn't shocked that his goto catering company usually does bachelor parties, and therefore, their servers are half naked.

Seeing that used to make me all shy and flustered, and Heather would get so mad as if I had control over it. Trevor's always been a natural, however. Growing up, he behaved maturer than anyone I knew. He was an adult by age eleven as far as I could tell.

At his thirteenth birthday party, he had a glass of champagne. At his sweet sixteen, he had the finest grade of dark liquor he could find...which led to most of us waking up confused on his floor with sharpie on our faces and colorful feather boas around our necks. Mine was yellow.

I sigh as I lean back on the velvet sofa. We closed in one area so that there would be peace among the chaos. There are sheer curtains hanging down that we can see out of, but no one can see into.

"Did you want one?" Trevor offers me one of the girls he let in.

"You know I'm with Heather."

"I don't see her."

"I'm not doing that, man." I shake my head, getting out of my seat to leave him with his company.

It's funny because Trevor and heather are kind of friends. Though, he doesn't think I should be tied down. He always says, "You're too young to have a wife." I disagree, obviously. Who doesn't want to marry their high school sweetheart?

When I step out of the curtained area, I'm welcomed by the real atmosphere of the party, the part you don't get simply from observing. It's not your typical house party— those are rowdy and damaging. People with class manage to have fun with alcohol and drugs without drawing negative attention. Put them in a setting where the lights are dim enough...and you'll have to look extra closely to see how devious everything truly is.

I see the waitress returning to our personal V.I.P. area and walk up to her before she could disappear in it. "Thank you," I smile and take one of the bottles from the ice pail.

Once she passes me by, I consider putting the bottle down, because, for a second, I swear I see Heather in the crowd of people. I narrow my eyes and start moving toward her, ignoring the people in my way as if my path was clear. "Heath-" I start to say before I am roughly bumped into by someone, sending their drink onto their clothes.

Better them than me, but when I look up again, Heather is gone.

I search the room, catching a glimpse of what I believe is her being pulled away by someone in plaid.

No way they were invited.

"Leo, let me go," Heather huffed and pulled away from me, "we can't be in here, this is Jace's room."

"You think I don't know that?" I chuckled, "I'm looking for something."

"For what?"

"I know he has it," I muttered under my breath as I rummaged through his dresser before moving on to his nightstand.

"Tell me or...I'll go get Jace."

I look over at her and smirk at her flustered appearance, all crossed armed and pouty. Cute.

"Silence, butterfly. I'm doing everyone a favor." I pull on one dresser that won't open. "Bingo." I sigh and reach under the nightstand, searching for a key that was all too easily found. "What a cliché." I chuckle to myself and twist the key in the lock, smiling once I hear it click.

Heather watches me intently as I reach into the drawer, grab a VHS tape, and hide it under the waistband of my jeans.

"...What is that, Leo?"

"Bad news, trust me." I walk past her, and she remained frozen, probably saddened by the fact that her 'future senator' boyfriend is mixed up into something she was left out of. "Heather," I sing-song, "I thought we weren't allowed in his room." I extend my arm out for her to take my hand.

She snaps back into reality and nods before following after me, though, she denied my gesture.

I let her go in peace, this is her scene, after all. None of my friends, however, are anywhere to be found. Not even Zach, who I expected to be taking full advantage of the free alcohol for minors.

Central parties suck.

Is anyone actually having fun here? Who puts on designer dresses and suits to come to a house party. The music is awful as well, a mix between pop and EDM, maybe? It's like...Madonna meets Ace of Bass, and it's absolute garbage. I genuinely feel bad for the people that consider this a good time.

A party on the lower east side, now that's a good time. Sometimes we get local bands to play our living rooms or even backyards if we have one. We get beer kegs and finger foods instead of minibars and catering services. We dress in clothes that we can easily take off because we all know where we'll end up later on...probably someone's bed.

I grab a drink and sit on a stool at the bar this kid actually has built into his fucking house. Whatever is in this fancy glass is actually kind of good...I think it's a martini. Regardless, I feel slightly less respectable for drinking alcohol with an olive in it.

Heather is still standing where I left her, irritation clearly laced over her body language. Maybe if we're brought together for another party, it'll be in lower Manhattan so she can have some actual fun.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises." I turn to my right and see a giant security guard, his hand gripping my shoulder as he waits for me to get up. I huffed but did as he said once I saw another security guard behind him.

"I really didn't need an escort to show me where the exit is." I shrugged him off once we reached the door. He didn't respond, just kept a cold glare as he walked back into Jace's wealth.

"There he is," Val sighed in annoyance, "we were going to leave you."

"You guys got kicked out too?" I furrow my eyebrows. "How'd they catch us all so fast?"

"About that..." Danny said hesitantly as he scratched the back of his neck. "Val and I were doing a bit of shopping. We hit the gold mine, literally, but the rent-a-cops caught us before we made it out."

"You guys were stealing? Are you stupid? There are cameras all over that place." I shake my head in disappointment, "What is this, amateur hour?"

"We know that now, they'd been looking for us ever since we snuck in. They saw that too." Danny shrugs, "but they probably would've let us stay if we didn't try to pocket the jewelry."

Really? Then where's Heath-