“I just heard about all the excitement this morning, bless your heart. They said you nearly mowed down several small children and traumatized the parade marshals.”
Ivy tensed up and closed her eyes when she heard the woman’s voice from behind her. Why was Lydia always sneaking up behind her? Taking a deep breath, Ivy turned to face her.
Lydia had on a tight, short, sequined black dress with a peplum that was hot pink on the underside. There was a big pink bow at her hip that would have made her look wide if she wasn’t so petite to begin with. Her hair was teased and sprayed into submission, making a golden halo around her head like a lion’s mane. She looked just like she’d strolled off the set of an eighties music video.
“Lydia. I’m sorry you missed it, but honestly, you wouldn’t have enjoyed yourself very much. We both know how much you hate it when I’m the center of attention instead of you. I think you’re the winner tonight, though. I see you got C. C. DeVille’s stylist to do your hair. No one will give me a second glance with that train wreck ingrained in their minds.”
Lydia crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up so high they nearly spilled out of her sweetheart neckline. “I heard you came here tonight with Blake,” she said, pointedly ignoring the insult.
Normally, Ivy wouldn’t make a big deal about coming with Blake, but if he was right and it would make Lydia miserable, she was all for it. “I did. He asked me at the fair.” Ivy held up her wrist to showcase her corsage. “He even bought me the same corsage he got me in high school. Isn’t that sweet?”
Lydia’s lips tightened into a thin pink line. She didn’t seem impressed. She seemed like she was ready to throw something. Perhaps Ivy had pushed her too far. “Why is it that every time I’m close to getting something I want, you swoop in and take it? Everything that should’ve been mine went to you instead. You’re not even staying in Rosewood, but you couldn’t stand for me and Blake to be happy together. You had to mess everything up.”
“Yes, Lydia, that was exactly my plan when I came,” Ivy said, rolling her eyes. “You think I spent all my time scheming on how to take everything you wanted, but you give yourself too large a role in my mind. If you hadn’t spent all your time trying to make me miserable, I could’ve forgotten all about you.”
“Yeah, right. We both know you were jealous of me because you weren’t good enough for him then, and you aren’t good enough for him now.”
“Excuse me?” Ivy exclaimed. Was she really starting this here?
“You heard me. It doesn’t matter how many albums you record or how much money you make, because you’ll always be just a little white trash around the edges, Thrift Shop.”
“Why? Because I didn’t grow up spoiled and rich? Because my daddy couldn’t pay for debutante training and white-gown cotillions? ’Cause I’m not a member of the Junior League? Please. I never wanted to be like that. I never wanted to be like you. And that was fine with me because Blake didn’t want you; he wanted me. And he still does.”
“Aww, Ivy. Did you think that just because Blake slept with you that he thought you were good enough for him? Me and everyone else in town could’ve told you he never would’ve married you. You don’t deserve the Chamberlain name and everyone knows it, including him.”
Ivy wished she had one of her Grammys here so she could hit Lydia upside the head with it. Ivy Hudson. In the cafeteria. With a Grammy.
“Let’s face it, Blake didn’t want you then and he doesn’t really want you now. He wouldn’t have screwed around with that cheerleader if he had been dating me. I know how to keep a man happy.”
Ivy felt her blood pressure start to climb. She was right. He couldn’t have slept with that cheerleader because Lydia wouldn’t have let him out of her sight. “But he wasn’t dating you. Even despite your best bitchy efforts to steal him away from me. And he never did date you.”
“Oh, Ivy,” Lydia’s face drew into a sympathetic frown. “Haven’t you heard? I have dated Blake. Wait . . . let me rephrase. I am dating Blake. As in, currently.”
“You don’t say.” Ivy wasn’t about to let rat-faced Whittaker ruin her night the same way she ruined her high school years. “Well then, why was he at the fair with me? Kissing me? Coming to the dance with me?”
“You seem so worldly and yet you’re so nai¨ve, Ivy. You’re nothing but a hot piece of ass he’s courting for the sake of the fund-raiser. Miss Adelia, or Granny, as she likes me to call her, put him up to it. If he’s seen with you and starts a”—Lydia made air quotes—“‘relationship’ with you, we’ll get a lot of press and sell more tickets. So he can get his
stadium rebuilt and take the team to the championships. And then, once you flit on back to La-La Land, he’ll be back with me, where he’s always belonged.”
Ivy had faced harsh critics, endured publicly scathing critiques of everything from her voice to her clothes to her body, and shut down abrasive talk show hosts. She was always quick with the perfect response. And yet, when faced with the girl who made her school years a living hell, she was stunned speechless and fifteen again.
“You saw us kissing the other day, Ivy. What did you think that was about? What line did he feed you to convince you it was nothing, hmm?”
“He said you kissed him,” she said, finding her voice. “He said that you’re pathetic, constantly sniffing around. He said he’s never wanted you and he never will.”
“Blake is good,” Lydia noted with a smile. “Did it ever occur to you that he had to tell you all that so his grandmother didn’t find out he screwed up? He’s not supposed to be seen with me while you’re here, but he just couldn’t stay away.”
Ivy turned to look for Blake in the crowd. She found him talking to a woman.
“He’s such a flirt,” Lydia chided. “And so virile. He made his way through half the women in town before I finally tamed him for good. It takes everything I’ve got to keep him satisfied and in my bed every night. It’s no wonder you couldn’t keep him.”
Ivy gritted her teeth, praying for self-control to keep her from snatching a fistful of hair from Lydia’s head. She couldn’t do it. Kevin would be very disappointed if she caused another scene. There wasn’t supposed to be press here, but somehow, she knew, the picture would get out.
“Enjoy your little moment while it lasts, but remember . . .” Lydia leaned in and narrowed her beady little eyes. “In a week, you go home and he’s mine again.”
Lydia spun on her heel and stomped away, nearly colliding with Blake in the process. She stopped only a moment to smile sweetly at him before making a hasty retreat to the other side of the cafeteria.
It was just as well. Cameras be damned, Ivy was on the verge of popping Lydia in the face. Blake wasn’t using her at his grandmother’s demand. Miss Adelia had made it perfectly clear how she felt about the interference of Whittaker girls. He wouldn’t go to these lengths just to sell tickets while he secretly dated Lydia. He was a miserable flirt, he always had been, but that didn’t mean he followed through.