A Good Little Girl Like You (A Sample)

public defender-who tried to find justice for poor people.

He didn't know of any other person who had such a strong

conscience. When Constance Westerley talked about

charity, most of her friends and family ran for cover.

Kay laughed at Constance's suggestion. "That's it! Give

all your money away, then you won't be able to boast about

it anymore." She folded her arms and nodded as though she

had just solved all his problems. "Sorry, O.E. Nobody wants

to hear you brag."

Dan jumped in to assist his friend. "You can brag to me

all you want. But don't expect me to respect you in the

morning." His attempt at a joke was greeted with groans,

then the four of them fell silent.

Kay suddenly lit up and broke the silence. "Maybe you

should try being unknown and poor."

O.E. chuckled. "Sorry, I like being known. And being

poor sucks-I'll stick with rich."

"No, I don't mean that. I mean you should hide your

name and the fact that you're rich. Then you won't be able

to flash your enormous ego." Her lip curled devilishly. "Do

you think you can woo a woman if she doesn't know who

you are-if she thinks you're a surf bum? Look, you're

already dressed for the part. Can you live it?"

O.E. smiled. He was wearing his usual outfit for this

party: surfer duds. Board shorts, a loud tank top, and flimsy

sandals. His shoulder-length blond hair completed the

casual look. At any other party, this look might fit in. But

not here. This party was a Westerley.

Most people had heard of the Westerley family-old

money with its fingers in construction, banking, and

energy. Some people also knew about the swanky parties

they threw every few months, the fabled "Westerleys." They

were always held at St. Joseph's Church, the same place

where Dan and Kay had married last night.

It might seem strange to have two parties at the same

place, two nights in a row. But the wedding had to be there.

Unlike O.E., who was just a friend of the family, Dan Avery

was a pure-blood Westerley on his mother's side-he

couldn't get married anywhere else. In fact, this particular

Westerley was intentionally scheduled for the night after

the wedding, so that it would extend the celebration into a

weekend-long bacchanalia.

Westerley parties were always split between two rooms.

The main cathedral was home to the older, stuffier, and

richer crowd. They milled about the tastefully decorated

cathedral in gowns and tuxedos. The music was a string

quartet; the food and alcohol arrived on silver platters.