An hour later, my brother and I are many drinks deep. While Nate is engrossed in a conversation with Tess, I excuse myself and go to the ladies’ room. Sitting down to pee, I lose my balance and hold out my hands to steady myself. I’m drunk, but not so drunk that Nate’s crack about older men doesn’t bother me. I never told him about Marcus, but Joey may have. Although if he did, wouldn’t Nate have said something to me? I splash water on my face and return to my seat.

In the short time I’ve been gone, a girl who’s not Tess has donned Nate’s baseball cap and is perched on his lap. She’s stunning, with straight white-blond hair. Her silk dress is barely a slip, and the skinny straps slide off her shoulders, exposing the curve of her breasts. Nate has one of the straps between his teeth.

“This is Leslie,” he says, batting his eyes like a cartoon character. Bent over her phone and texting, texting, texting, Leslie doesn’t acknowledge me.

I feel someone come up behind me and place his hands on my shoulders. “Cassie, long time.” Powell Porter’s voice makes my body recoil. I don’t want to turn around, but when I do, my smile is dazzling. “Powell,” I say. He’s with his brother Deacon, whom I nod hello to. Still smiling. Always smiling.

Spotting his buddies, Nate jostles Leslie off his lap so he can greet Powell. Soon, they’re clapping each other’s backs and shouting while Leslie wanders off, wearing Nate’s cap, fingers still flying over her phone.

Waving a hundred-dollar bill, Powell beckons to Tess. “Heineken, please!” He turns to his brother who asks for an Amstel. “Make that two Heineken, Tessie.”

“Powell,” Deacon asks. “Why are you such a dick?”

“Sorry, Tess,” Powell calls out. “Just one.”

He and Nate laugh like this is the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

Deacon looks at me and rolls his eyes. “Fucking asshole, right?”

“He’s your brother, so it would be rude to comment. But yeah, he’s a big fucking asshole. When your dad runs for mayor, he’ll have to hide Powell in a closet. Otherwise, he can kiss Gracie Mansion goodbye.”

Deacon cracks a smile. He’s a leaner, thinner version of his brother. They both have the same blond curls, but Powell’s hair is cropped close to his skull and Deacon has a long, lion-like mane. His round, wire-rimmed glasses make him look like a bohemian musician, but he’s actually a computer genius. Like Billy, Deacon goes to Princeton, although he’s in their famed math department. According to Nate, he’s already fielding job offers from Google and Facebook.

“Cassie, you look great,” Deacon says. “When was the last time I saw you?”