My heart starts thumping in my chest as bile rises in my throat. Feeling sick, I notice my hands shake, and my head starts to spin as fast as my thoughts. I grab the chair to keep my balance, but my hand is slapped away.

“What are you doing?” Snooty is glaring at me. “Are you going to refill my glass, or do I need to get your manager?”

Still caught up in the insults, I’d forgotten the tea pitcher in my hand. I reach forward, listening to the ice shake against the metal. As if I’m nothing, they ignore me as I begin to break down.

Tiffy’s mom says, “I hear he’s going to be a doctor. His past deeds won’t matter once he earns his PhD and finds a nice girl from Point Estates to marry.”

“I’ve always said boys need to sow their seeds to become men. Better now than after they’re married.” They nod in unison.

I fill the glass, and just as I’m pulling myself together, Snooty says, “As for the girl, hopefully he doesn’t get her pregnant. I hear she’s a vile creature.” Leaning in again, she whispers, “Likes to make a show of their sexual relationship.”

The other woman gasps, throwing her hand over her heart. “Poor Delta.”

“We can only hope he doesn’t fall in love.” Too late, bitches. “You remember how that whole thing worked out for the Jen—”

“Sh!” They share a look, a secret exchanged.

Shaking her head, she tsks and lowers her voice even more. “Her parents were heartbroken when she fell pregnant.”

“Just awful. I’ll tell you, though, if they didn’t have so much money, the Westcotts would be run out of The Pointe because of those boys just like they were.” Who’s they? “I bet her husband cheats.”

I clip the foot of her chair with my shoe, and the pitcher rattles in my hand. But I just about catch myself before I spill any tea, unlike what they’ve been doing. But sometimes an opportunity presents itself, and waiting for karma takes too long. The pitcher falls from my hand, hitting the floor, and splashes from the top opening . . . right onto to the bitch’s skirt.

Not expecting it to work as well as it did, I gasp this time, throwing my hand over my mouth to hide my grin. They both lurch from their seats. Tiff’s mom has tea splattered over her pale pink skirt. But the other woman is covered in the dark liquid. The perfectly coiffed streak she probably spent too much time taming into place is now wild and intermingling with the darker strands. Other than their screeches, the entire room is silent and watching, but no one makes any effort to help them.

Larry runs out of the kitchen, passing Dane, who’s laughing his ass off. Larry asks, “What happened? What happened, ladies?”

Brushing her hair and streak aside, the woman’s nose goes straight into the air. “This girl just spilled a pitcher of tea all over me.” Her daggering eyes are intense, but I wear my anger like armor protecting me.