No Place Like Homecoming Dallen, Maggie (best sales books of all time .TXT) 📖

with the sexy eyes joined our weird little tableau as the princesses attempted to frog-march the kids out into the hallway and I…

I tried to figure out how to disappear in plain sight.

“Have you met Isla?” Callie asked.

The hottie I now knew was named Flynn handed me a tall glass of something clear and bubbly. Definitely not champagne. Probably club soda. “Not officially.” His smirk was back as his gaze held mine.

Nope. It was definitely missing the heat that I’d seen there before.

There was a heat. But it was an angry heat, not a sexy one. And his gaze was filled with disdain.

“Ooh, is that club soda?” Willow asked. “Can I get one too? One of the kids poured juice all over my jeans when I first got here.”

“Sure.” But Flynn was still watching me.

And I was watching them. All of them. I might not have been a straight-A student, but one thing was definitely becoming clear.

He wasn’t a guest at this party. And he probably wasn’t in college. And that meant that he was…

Oh crap.

He was the help.

His lips curved up in a smirk again as if he could see the puzzle pieces falling into place behind my eyes. “This one’s on the house.” He nodded toward the bar. “But the tip jar is over there if you’re feeling generous.”

Two

Flynn

I should have known better. This was what I got for talking to a guest. But in my defense, I’d been bored. Well, I’d been bored until she arrived. It wasn’t every day a new girl walked into a party in Lindale. And a new girl with a gorgeous smile and killer legs? That was a rare occasion, for sure.

But I really should have known better. I’d lived in this town my whole life, and I knew for a fact that Lindale had two types of people—the filthy rich and the poor, working-class schlubs like me. And then, in walked Isla. The worst of both. A working-class schlub who pretended to be one of the filthy rich. A hypocritical snob. An entitled brat.

Yup, she was the worst of them all.

And I’d tried to hit on her.

At first glance, she’d looked like a sweetheart. With that heart-shaped face and the look in her eyes that seemed to say lost and vulnerable.

I shook my head as I watched her disappear around the corner, swept along in a wave of princesses and bearded dwarves who’d inexplicably caused a commotion by singing a Wizard of Oz number. Just another day in the life when it came to these Lindale high-society gigs, but it was no wonder that Isla chick had looked freaked. But as she was now the Princess Troupe’s newest member, she’d better get used to it.

I let out a huff of amusement at the thought of Isla in the Princess Troupe.

I wasn’t sure whether to pity her, Mrs. Messner, or the other girls who’d have to pick up the slack when she inevitably quit. If she even made it through training.

Something told me she wouldn’t last a week. The troupe wasn’t for the faint of heart. I’d been working alongside them for years now since my boss’s catering company got hired for all the same events. I knew exactly how hard they worked...and just how much those girls needed the money.

I went back to the bar and poured a few refills. No surprise, no one remembered to tip on refills.

I cursed under my breath as yet another uptight jerk turned away without so much as a glance at the tip jar. I earned an hourly wage, but the tips were where it was at.

Usually.

Sometimes.

But unfortunately for me, there seemed to be a universal law at play. The richer the people hosting the party, the worse the tips. I did a mental tally of how much I’d made so far at this reception, plus what I’d earned the night before at the country club event. Sometimes the country club hired me on for parties when they had a big event, and last night was a doozie.

But even with the extra shifts, I wasn’t even close to what I needed to make if I was going to drive to New Jersey by the end of the month like I’d planned. And I had to get there. My mom was counting on me. My little brothers were waiting for me.

I cursed under my breath and stared at the nearly empty tip jar. The catering jobs weren’t cutting it. Since I’d turned eighteen and was now allowed behind a bar that served alcohol, I’d hoped my catering gigs would start earning me more. But it turned out that the jerks drinking wine and beer at weddings were just as cheap as the jerks drinking punch and soda at kids birthday parties.

I’d probably made more when I was just helping to clean up after the guests than I did behind the bar. How depressing was that?

I reached for an empty glass and poured some club soda for Willow. At least I could help out a friend. I fought a smile as I thought of the look of alarm on Isla’s face as she’d been led away.

Yeah, okay. Maybe a little part of me wanted to see how she was surviving in the chaos too. And there was no doubt the rec room was chaotic. I’d stopped in briefly earlier to say hi to Callie and Willow. As I’d expected, it had been a zoo.

Not all the guests’ kids had even arrived yet, and it had been total anarchy. But pros that they were, Callie and Willow had been wrangling the chaos into some semblance of order as they’d brought out costumes and games to keep the kids entertained while their parents got drunk in another room.

Glorified babysitting, Savannah called it. She’d been lucky to skip this one, although I knew without a doubt the troupe’s favorite diva was pissed she’d missed the chance to make money.

Sometimes I was convinced Savannah needed money just as much as