“Private party.” “I was invited.” “By who?” Technically, he was invited by the hot chick at the bar but he used Angelo instead. “Angelo.” The man slowly stepped aside, but continued to stare Shaine down as if hoping Shaine would do something stupid just so he could wipe the floor with him. But Shaine wasn’t stupid. He slipped past the man and into the party, immediately assaulted by a kaleidoscope of neon colors as people walked by in glow-in-the-dark body paint illuminated by the black lights. Music—if you could call it that—was nearly a wall of sound that vibrated his insides, and he wondered if kids nowadays were deaf. He scanned the crowd and caught a glimpse of Poppy being led into the bathroom by Capri, and he headed that way. He wanted to have eyes on Poppy in this place.
