The silence hanging over VIP Booth Four was so dense it felt physical.
For several agonizing seconds, no one moved. Liv sat rigid, her designer tote sliding off her lap onto the plush leather seating. Natasha's hand trembled slightly around her champagne glass, while Alan stared at Brandon with a mixture of rising panic and sharp denial.
Brandon blinked, looking around at the frozen, pale faces of his former classmates. "What? Why is everyone looking at me like I just confessed to a crime?"
Liv cleared her throat sharply, forcing a strained, shrill laugh that rang hollow against the high ceilings of the pavilion. "B-Brandon... okay, good one. Very funny. How much did Aliya pay you to walk up here and script that entire speech?"
Brandon's smile faded, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated confusion. "Pay me? What are you talking about, Liv?"
