That Saturday, I found myself waiting in line to get into the Heights behind the wheel of Manson’s massive rumbling Bronco.

It was way more fun to drive the beastly vehicle than I’d expected. The big tires and lifted suspension made the entire thing shake and bump as we drove down the road, jostling us in our seats. Manson sat up front with me, while Lucas, Jason, and Vincent were in the back, their heads ducked down so the guard wouldn’t see them as he checked my ID.

It was the same old guard who’d been working that gate for years, although it was far more difficult for him to leer at me when I was in a massive SUV instead of a tiny car.

“Welcome back, Mr. Reed,” he said, giving Manson a wave before he opened the gate and let us drive in. I wasn’t surprised he remembered Manson, who used to live in this neighborhood with his former social worker, Kathryn, and her family.

I breathed a sigh of relief once we were in. The boys straightened up as I drove through the Height’s winding roads. Some of the houses here were truly massive, mini mansions on every corner. Danielle and Nate’s house wasn’t so grand, but it was still large. It sat on a one acre lot, a rambling farmhouse surrounded by trees. The only way they were able to afford it was because they had Matthew and his girlfriend as roommates.

I made sure not to drive by the house, but parked down the road so Manson and I could get out. We’d discussed how we could best stage this distraction; we wanted to give the others plenty of time to do everything they needed to, but we also needed to scope out the place before they could move in.

I’d come up with the plan we finally settled on, the perfect way to get and keep everyone’s attention at the party. We just needed to do something they’d never expect.

That was why Manson laced his fingers through mine as we walked up the driveway toward the house. My stomach was in knots, my palms clammy with nerves. I usually dressed to the nines for a party, but I couldn’t be slowed down by heels and restrictive clothes today.

“I can’t believe I wore flats to a party,” I whispered as we approached the front door. Vehicles were parked around the yard, but my eyes zeroed in on Alex’s Hellcat parked in front of the garage. Nate’s truck was next to it, and Danielle’s pretty little Lexus was there too.

Manson squeezed my hand. “Feeling nervous?”