by Ember Flint
What am I missing here?
—*—
I zip up my jumper and leave my refuge with one last sigh. While I dressed up, I heard Gillian’s cackling laughter outside more than once and I could almost swear that while I shaved, I also heard the doorknob rattle.
The last of the overnight guests must have arrived in my absence ‘cause the atmosphere looks slightly calmer —aside from the clangor coming from the kitchen where the chef and his staff are probably busy putting the last touches over the dinner buffet.
I reach the living room and look around for a familiar face. I immediately spot Evelyn standing near her father, their arms linked. They seem to be in a very deep conversation with a prominent judge and his daughter— she went to high school with Eve.
Before I can take one step in the room, I feel someone grasping my arm and look down into the shrewd eyes of my former girlfriend.
“Seth, dahling, how have you been?” She kisses the air near my cheek, positioning herself strategically in a way that’s probably supposed to entice my eyes down her neckline. Not that she has much to show for there. I grimace as the too heavy cloud of Chanel floating around her reaches me.
She’s not one to sprinkle the inside of her wrists and the hollow of her throat like Eve does, she’s more likely to have completely soaked herself in a bathtub full of Number 5 and in such industrial quantities even the most pleasant perfume can stink.
I back away from her. “I’ve been great, but now I guess it’s over, Gillian. What about you? Tripped on some other man on an expensive Persian rug tonight?” I spit out.
It wouldn’t surprise me too much if my sarcasm turned out to be the exact truth, after all that’s exactly the embarrassing scene I had to witness coming back to her apartment for my tablet the last day I had the utter displeasure to call her my girlfriend.
I frown when I get a sense of what’s she is wearing, I’m not even sure her outfit can qualify as actual clothes.
She splays herself over my chest and I discretely push her away.
“Oh, don’t you start with that, dahling! Don’t you ever make mistakes?”
“Not of that kind, Gillian,” I state, staring her down; my lips curling in a disgust I have no intention to mask.
I’m pretty sure she’s not even talking about the cheating per se, more like the timing of her assignation with the guy.
She bats her eyelashes at me, her green eyes looking more predatory than seductive. “Dahling, it’s all water under the bridge, there’s no need to talk about it.”
I cross my arms over my chest, standing tall.
“There’s no need for us to talk at all, Gillian,” I hiss, glaring at her and, making sure we are in no one’s direct view, I push past her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my temper under control, but it’s not easy when all I want to do is go back to her, pick her up and toss her out on her ass on the nearest snowy sidewalk —or better yet: have someone from our security detail do that for me, ‘cause I’m not sure I could stand touching her that much.
Is not that she hurt anything more than my pride, she could have never had that power over me: I never loved her —I’ve never been in love ever— but it still fucking stung.
She made a fool out of me, but I have only myself to blame.
I wonder how is it possible that I never saw her for what she was?
An artificial and conniving bitch through and through. I can see now very easily how every single one of her gestures, glances and words is carefully planned and choreographed down to the last detail. She makes me fucking sick.
As I move toward Leonard and Eve, Mr. Suxon sides up to me and I can see from his eager eyes he wants to talk business right now.
I see my father reaching us and I know I’m officially trapped.
Just fucking great.
After nearly fourteen hours straight of talking myself hoarse during meeting after meeting with my staff in Special Projects and the Board of Directors that’s exactly what I need: more business talk.
I don’t know for how long I stand there, but when another business acquaintance comes over, I manage to finally make my escape.
It’s nearly time for dinner and I need a minute for myself —not to mention about a ton of Aspirin— before someone’s else corners me to talk about this or that great investment or even worse, before some politician comes over to ask for endorsement from us.
As I leave the room, Gillian claws at my arm again and I groan, closing my eyes.
Now I would give anything to have some money-grubbing politician at hand.
“Where are you going?” she whispers in what I’m sure is meant to be a sultry voice.
“Not your business.”
She pouts. “You’re so stiff and tense, Seth. I know exactly what you need…”
“I doubt that.”
She smiles, her hand caressing my shoulder up and down. “I’m sure I can think of a thing or two I could do for you right now…”
I can’t fucking believe this is actually happening. Can’t she take a fucking hint?
I sigh, pulling my arm away. “Yes, Gillian. There’s one very nice thing you could do for me right now: you could stop embarrassing yourself with this ridiculous behavior and leave me the fuck alone!”
I stomp away, huffing in frustration and walk in the direction of the dining room, where I’m sure no guests are allowed as the staff and the caterers set the tables.
As I near my destination, I hear muffled male voices and a chuckle and I stop completely when I hear Evelyn’s name being mentioned by one of the men.
I feel a surge of irritation and I take an uneven breath.
“She’s so fucking hot, man, and she wants it so very bad,” one of the guys says.
I can’t place his voice.
“Oh yeah and I’m so going to give it to her,” the other man chuckles.
Now, this voice and that stupid laugh I do recognize and my heart rate picks up as I force my arms down my sides, clenching my fists.
They are both laughing now, but it’s not going to fucking last.
“I’ve been working on her for months and she’s putty in my hands: I’m sure I’ll have her on her knees by tomorrow at the latest.”
My irritation sours and turns into a rage I can’t explain; my fucking hands are shaking.
I step out of the dark and glower at both of them. “What did you just fucking said, Ross?” I can barely speak through my clenched teeth; my jaw working so much, it’s almost painful.
I see the other guy’s —the son of a senator from out of state— eyes widen and he takes a step back more than a little aware of the aggression in my low voice, but his friend is as dumb as his sister and just as bad as taking a fucking hint it seems, because no matter how much I’m glaring at him, he’s still smiling stupidly in this odious, arrogant way that makes me wish to knock each one of his teeth out of his fucking mouth.
“Hey, man, what’s your problem?”
I stalk up to him until I’m pressing him to the wall and I fucking growl. I didn’t even know I could actually make such a sound. “Don’t ever let me hear you say something like that about her ever again,” I snarl, my voice cold.
He flinches and shrinks back. “I… didn’t… I…” he babbles.
I get even more into his face. “She doesn’t fucking want you, you asshole! Knock it the fuck off. You too,” I say, turning to look at the other preppy-looking douchebag.
He nods insistently. “Sorry, man, we didn’t mean… a-a-anything by it…”
I glower at him. “Sure you did. Don’t fucking deny it now.”
I focus again on the piece of shit quaking in front of me. “I won’t be warning you again, Ross. She’s not for you,” I say pushing off of him and forcing myself to walk away.
I frown to myself, eyes on my still shaking hands.
I have no idea what came over me.
; I mean, I’m not surprised that I defended Eva: I would lay my life down for her any day; it’s the degree of the anger I felt that’s weird.
I’ve always been very protective of her and Ross is a fucking jerk and I’ve despised him since I had the misfortune of meeting him five years ago, that’s probably why I reacted in this way.
‘She’s not for you.’
I hear myself hissing those confusing words and they are more difficult to explain because I have no idea why I said them or what I meant.
As I walk back to the living room, I bump into Evelyn.
She’s holding a glass of cold water in one hand and as she opens and turns over the other, I can see two Aspirins sitting in the middle of her palm.
She smiles up at me. “Here you are! We are almost ready for dinner, Seth. I was looking for you. I thought you might need this: it looked like you had a headache back there, but by the time I escaped, you were gone.”
I take the tablets from her and gulp them down with some water.
“Thanks, Eva.”
I smile back at her; all the rage leaving my body in a rush just like air squeezed out of a punctured balloon.
Chapter 5
EVELYN
I’m at the end of my rope standing here, listening to this oil magnate moron expounding on his boundlessly medieval and ignorant opinions on how environmental activists have invented the melting of the Polar ice caps and the pollution of the oceans around the world, apparently with in mind only the heinous purpose of bringing down the most powerful members of the first class in charge of this country’s economic stability.
Which, I’m guessing, for him is a roundabout way to spell his own name…
The fact that he’s having the entire conversation with my chest only adds insult to injury.
Ugh!
I’m so about to give him a piece of my mind!
I look around hoping to spot Seth or my dad, but they’re currently trapped just as much as I am and in debates probably as puke-inducing as the one I’m supposed to be having right now.
Not that this guy would let me get a word in edgeways: he’s too fond of hearing his own voice for that, the condescending prick.
I smile sweetly at him and take a polite sip of the champagne chilling my flute.
“And what country would that be? Mr. Lewson? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure here in America we don’t have a first class in charge of economy, only first class assholes believing themselves to be in charge of it,” I manage to say as he stops in his blabbing long enough to take a breath.
It takes him a moment to register the full meaning of my words, but when he does he starts to splutter, but it’s okay: based on the way his brain seems to work I already know he won’t be rebuking me any time soon, after all my father is richer than him so in his book we’re not to be messed with.
Now I can see his beady eyes bouncing left and right as he thinks of a way to escape me with his dignity intact.
And ah! There’s the expression of triumph when his eyes fall on his almost full glass of single malt whisky on the rocks. He downs his drink in one go and I can see his face grow red. He coughs a little. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss Bridgeford, I need a refill.”
I nod to him, more pleased than he will ever know to be rid of him.
I hear a laughter from behind me and I turn toward it.
“Good job, Evie!” Karen says, snickering as she salutes me with her glass of sherry, she’s looking mightily amused and more than a little proud of herself.
After my mother passed away, I became very quiet for the longest time, my dad was just great and Simon was amazing with both of us and of course Seth was my rock and the only person who could stem my tears with a simple hug, but Karen was the one who made me snap out of the stillness that had fallen into my every-day life.
She was always a huge advocate for my outspokenness and she claimed she missed it too much to let me forget who I was, no matter how great was my grief. Karen was very close with my mom, she knew her better than anyone else in the world —my dad excluded— and she told me she would not have wanted me to lose my spirit.
Sweet words and comfort did not seem to be enough, so Karen did the only thing she could think of: she badgered me into finding myself again by engaging in constant battles of words with me, often purportedly adopting a contrary point of view just for the sake of pissing me off and making me defend what I believed in.
She gave me my fire back when all was left in my existence was smoke.
It was the therapy I needed.
I smile at her, she’s the closest thing to a mother that I could claim to have and one of my dearest friends.
I shake my head, but my lips are twitching. “You mean to tell me you were standing here all this time as that pompous idiot was torturing me and you didn’t come to the rescue?”
She pats my shoulder. “Of course not, honey. I came over as soon as I saw who had cornered you: he is a complete bastard and someone told me he likes ‘em young.”
I cringe. The guy’s my dad’s age for crying out loud.
“Yuck!”
She giggles. “Indeed, but as soon as I realized he was just droning on and on about some ridiculous conspiracy theory, I figured you’ll be able to handle him just fine.”
“I would have done so even sooner had he actually stopped to breathe more often!”
We both laugh.
“Come, Evie. There’s someone I want you to meet: Justice McMartron. She’s very interested in knowing more about BWB’s research on genetic diseases. She’s a potentially affluent benefactress, my dear. You’ll want to speak with her.”
I smile. “Excellent.”
I look around for Justice McMartron, but my eyes zero on Seth instead: he is standing miserably amongst what it seems to be an entire entourage of hopeless women and worst of all: I can see Gillian sashaying toward him; she must be getting antsy for the perceived competition attempting to snatch her quarry from under her nose.
Why won’t they let him be for fuck’s sake!
“We’d better go to save Seth first, Karen,” I say nodding in his general direction.
I start to walk, but Karen puts a hand over my arm, stopping me. “No need, honey: I can see Gillian going over there already. He’ll be just fine,” she states, smiling delightedly as she flicks back her shoulder-long, red hair.
I sigh. “Karen—”
She’s still smiling as she looks at them. “It would be so nice if they put whatever difference of opinion they had aside and got back together, don’t you think? Then they could finally get married and start to make babies! I can’t wait to be a grandmother!”
My guts clench and I almost feel inexplicably ill at the thought.
I rub my hazy eyes with the back of my hand and try to even my suddenly short breath.
“Are you okay, dear, you look so pale!”
I shake my head as if to clear it.
“Karen, listen to me,” I start to say, taking one of her hands in mine. “Seth didn’t want for you and Simon to know what happened with Gillian and while it’s not my place to tell you exactly why they parted ways, I can say you’re misinformed in thinking it was a simple divergence of opinions that split them up. If you knew what I do, you’ll be marching yourself over there right now.”
She looks at me saying nothing, clasps my hand more tightly and then starts to walk toward Seth, dragging me along.
As we reach him, she hugs his arm. “I’m sorry, ladies, I’m afraid I’ll have to steal my son away for a while. Our guests simply cannot wait to hear you and Evelyn play,” she announces, smiling brightly at the unsuspecting group of harpies.
I can practically see the tension leaving Seth’s body.
“But of course, Mom. Please do excuse us,” he says, smiling at me.
As he turns around he mouths an ‘How?’ to me, his eyebrows arched.
I mouth back a ‘Later’ and he nods,
coming to stand behind me, clearly more than eager to escape his clueless groupies, but before we can take a step, Gillian stops us with her strident voice.
“Karen, you look absolutely stunning!”
She smiles, possibly showing more teeth than a single human being is supposed to have.
“Thank you.”
Judging from Gillian’s sour expression, Karen’s to the point answer is not exactly what she was looking for.
“Is it Versace?” she prods, her fake smile still in place.
“Yes, it is,” Karen’s voice is tight and controlled. She still doesn’t know what this bitch did to her son, but she’s taking my word Gillian’s not one to be trusted.
“A wonderful choice,” Her Royal Bitchness nods pleased at having guessed the designer, but I can see it’s forced.
She is of course not simply chit-chatting: the entire conversation was meant to have Karen reciprocate the compliments and the questions on her outfit and having been foiled in her desire to gain an opportunity to shine, she’s now put out.
I see her eyes narrowing on me and I know nothing good is going to come out of her mouth next.
She tuts, shaking her head in an affected display of contempt. “What on earth are you wearing, dahling?!”
I hear Seth huffing behind me and the other ladies —if one can really call them that— chortling behind their glasses.
I roll my eyes. “Tonight was informal, Gillian. The party is tomorrow. I didn’t feel like putting on a one-woman show with a dazzling gown for a simple dinner, after all I knew you would do that for us and didn’t want to deprive you of the pleasure. Oh, and by the way: I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a blue sweater, you know… actual clothes, I know you’re not familiar with them…”
I can hear a buzz of sharp barbs rising from amongst the fickle onlookers, their pointed eyes inspecting Gillian’s fashion disaster silk and lace transparent white mini-dress, the little fabric covering her flat chest sprinkled in more crystals drops than the eye can bear.
She sniffs primly, her green eyes reduced to slits now. She laughs, attempting to recover some of the ground she lost. “Well of course you wouldn’t recognize what I’m wearing as clothes, dahling, this is more than a simple outfit: it’s art, but I never expected you would get it, growing up without the guidance of a mother and all…”