Brief Encounters_The Encounters Series

by Scarlett Hopper

  “Ahhhh, Ellie, have I told you today how much I love you, because I really freaking love you right now!” Viv throws down the bridal magazine and hunts through the pile of others that give numerous tips on “How to Lose 10 Pounds in a Week” or “Finding Your Soul Mate.” I inwardly roll my eyes at the bullshit covers designed to make women feel like shit about themselves.

  “I need a new dress for tonight. I’m thinking something sexy and maybe even a little too revealing. I’d offer to get you something, but I know you have that area sorted with Mr. Brando.” She gives me a cheeky wink and dives into her next mag.

  This is going to be an interesting night.

  Hervé Léger.

  Roger got me an Hervé Léger black cocktail dress. Holy shit. This must have cost a fortune. And Christian Louboutin heels to match. Viv is going to freak when I tell her.

  I look in the mirror and can’t believe who’s staring back at me. I don’t mean to talk myself up, I look good. Roger won’t know what hit him.

  And if I have time to get to Viper later, Viv will surely die at the sight of this dress. I hate to give Roger credit, but the man has taste. Even though this job doesn’t have a lot of perks, it’s times like these that make me love it. Well, momentarily at least. Then the thoughts of guilt and self-worth come knocking and it’s all over. Right now, I can’t afford them. This is me being positive.

  Realizing I’m going to be late if I don’t get going, I bolt downstairs to the black town car he has waiting for me around the corner and prepare myself for the night ahead.

  “I knew that would look fabulous on you,” Roger says as he leads us to our table.

  “It really is gorgeous, Roger. I can’t thank you enough,” I say, and I mean it.

  “Nothing is too much for you, my dear Eliza. Anyway, what’s the point in having money if you can’t spend it on the finer things?” he says as he pushes my chair in. I’ve heard this too many times and can assure him that it’s not true, but I refrain. I decided going into this tonight I would put my best foot forward, and this whole thing hopefully won’t be too bad.

  Before I know it, our table is filling up and the speeches are beginning. Roger leans over and takes my hand in his. I plaster on my perfected smile and keep up the charade I’ve been promoting all night.

  I struggle to stay awake through the endless chatter of each speaker and the boastful comments about the contributions they’ve made. Roger must catch my boredom because he leans over and whispers in my ear, “Don’t worry, I’m bored, too.”

  I eye him from the side and give him a bit of a genuine smile. At least I’m not the only one who finds this event extremely tedious. I can’t even remember what the charity is for, because everyone is only talking about themselves and how much they’ve donated.

  Despite my strong feelings toward these events and people, I manage to keep up the charade until the end of the night. As the last speaker winds down, Roger grabs my hand and leads me away from the table. His touch is foreign, not bringing the comfort I think he expects me to feel. His hands are soft, not the hands of someone who has endured manual labor.

  As we walk through the crowd, I’m distracted by the copious quantities of diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds draped over every woman there. If I hadn’t once been so familiar with this lifestyle, I might envy it.

  Roger leads me outside and down the stone staircase to the front, where a black town car awaits me.

  “I figured you would want to get out before the crowds of people attempted to leave.”

  I find this hard to believe.

  “And anyway, I wanted us to be alone for a moment,” he says as he slips his hands around my back.

  Yep, there it is. It isn’t about my personality. It’s about my body.

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we got out of there when we did,” I say almost as a whisper. I find myself having to bullshit so much that these one-liners come naturally to me.

  Before I can get another word out, Roger leans forward and plants one on me.

  As much as I hate this part, the money keeps me going and helps me ignore the scents of tobacco and mint that waft off of Roger’s navy coat.

  After realizing that it’s been more than enough time, I pull away and begin walking to the car, holding back wiping my hand across my now-ruined lipstick.

  In order to keep the element of mystery, I turn to him and say, “Just making sure I don’t give everything away on the second date,” with a wink before climbing into the car. The warm leather is incredible against my skin, and for the first time all night, I feel a sort of serenity from being alone.

  Just as I’m about to text Viv that I’m on my way, there’s a tap on my window. I reluctantly roll it down, only to be greeted by a smiling Roger with an envelope in his hand.

  “I think you forgot something, Eliza,” he says while handing me what I can only assume is my fee.

  “Good night. Be safe,” he says, turning back to the party.

  It’s only eleven twenty-seven; I can still make it to Viper in time for a few songs and drinks with Viv. I shoot her a quick text to let her know I’m coming.

  On my way. Be there in 20 min.

  xxx Ellie

  I reapply some of my makeup and red lipstick, making sure I still look good so I can show off my new wardrobe to Viv. I think she enjoys seeing me in it more than I enjoy wearing it. This job wears on us, so we always attempt to find some type of positive, even if it’s as little as a new dress.

  I put all my stuff away as we pull up to the club, careful that my envelope of cash is securely hidden.

  I step out of the car and thank Sam, my driver for the night, ensuring to tip him for his services. I look around for Viv but can’t find her, so I walk up to the bouncer, Mike. I don’t have a lot of perks in this world, but one thing I do have is the undivided attention of Mike. No matter how full the club is or how long the line, the guy always takes special care of Viv and me. And not in a creepy way like most of the other men in our lives.

  We learned long ago that a fake ID will take you far in life, but it’s never needed at Viper. We’ve been going long enough for them to think we’re of age.

  Tonight, Viper is crazy busy, so I’m especially thankful for my little connection. As I walk toward Mike, he sees me in the corner of his eye and automatically gives me the up and down.

  “Ms. Ivy, how is it that you always manage to look like a million bucks? Especially tonight. That’s one hell of a dress,” he says with a mischievous smile.

  I respond with a twirl and give Mike a hug. He may be three hundred pounds, but he’s just a bald teddy bear to me.

  “It’s good to see you too, Mike. Is Viv inside?” I ask as I pull away from his embrace.

  “Yeah, Viv came in around twenty minutes ago with some guys. May I say she was also looking mighty fine! Boy, do you two know how to dress,” he says as he lifts the rope for me. “Oh, and don’t worry, Eleanor. I made sure to tell those boys that if they don’t treat her right, they’ll have me to answer to.”

  “Oh, Mike, you’re always looking out for us.” I wink as I walk inside. Mike is different from all the creeps we have to deal with. He actually means well, and we know he would do anything for us.

  As I enter the loud room that’s blasting Duck Sauce’s “Barbra Streisand,” I search for Viv among the boisterous crowd. With no luck, I go to the bar and order a vodka cranberry with lime, my favorite drink. I may not be a girly girly all the time, but I am when it comes to my drinks.

  While waiting for my drink, I feel someone come up behind me and tickle my sides. Usually unwanted contact doesn’t end well for the schmuck putting the moves on me, but Viv’s laugh gives her away and I automatically relax.

  “Ahhh, you made it!” she says with a squeal, but not before gasping at the sight of my dress. “Holy crapola! You weren’t lying when you said this guy had cash. Jeez, Ellie, you look phenomenal!” Viv pulls me off my chair and makes me do a little spin.

&
nbsp; I push down the flush that’s creeping over my cheeks and ask Viv the obvious. “So where is Will?” I yell over the loud music. “And why did Mike say you were with guys, as in plural?”

  As soon as I mention “plural,” Vivian begins looking anywhere but at me. It’s her signature move when she’s either hiding something or trying to avoid a conversation. I’m starting to think that in this case, it’s both.

  As if sensing that I’m about to ask who she’s with, she cuts me off by answering my previous question. “Will is just getting me a drink at the end of the bar,” she says with a mischievous smile.

  I peer down, and a nicely groomed Will waves at me with a huge smile on his face as he stares at Viv. These two are so smitten with each other. With their golden set of locks and personalities, they are a golden couple.

  “So, uhh, Ellie, I’m gonna go grab Will and uhhh… Just wait here,” Viv says as she scurries back to him. I can tell something is off, but she scampers away before I get the chance to ask.

  I suddenly feel a vibration in my pocket and pull out my phone to see a text from Jess.

  I thought you had work.

  P.S. You look hot.

  —J

  I look hot? How does he know what I’m even wearing? Then it hits me: Jess is the other guy who entered the club with Viv and Will. The fact that I didn’t clue in to this just makes me feel stupid. At this point I can’t tell if I’m mad at Vivian or just plain old confused as to why she feels the need to play matchmaker with me every other week.

  Feeling a pair of eyes burning holes into me, I look up to see none other than Jess Parker sitting across the bar, wearing his signature smirk.

  Let Go

  A huge grin spreads across his face as he stares at me from across the bar, not once breaking eye contact. For a fraction of a second, I feel something other than annoyance when I spot him, but I’ll never let him know that.

  He’s wearing a thin white T-shirt that outlines his sculpted abs and complements his olive skin. His short deep-brown hair is perfectly molded to frame his face, and I hate to say it, but the guy cleans up well, really well.

  He signals for me to come over to him and points to his drink, asking if I want one. I reciprocate his smirk and hold up the drink that the bartender just handed me. I take a long sip without breaking eye contact, waiting to see if he’ll come over here.

  It becomes a sort of game over the next few seconds: who will give in and make their move? Since I’ve never been one to lose, I don’t intend on looking away. That is, until someone taps my shoulder and breaks my focus. Our eye contact is broken, and I feel a sense of frustration toward whoever has touched me. I turn around to see a guy in a cheap gray suit and glassy eyes, smiling at me.

  “I couldn’t help but notice you across the bar. Can I buy you a drink, sweetie?” he says as he leans forward and further invades my personal space.

  Sweetie? God, this guy is struggling.

  “I actually already have a drink, but thanks for the offer,” I say, turning back around to look for Jess, but he’s gone, probably off chatting up some other girl. Not that I care. I squash down any potential disappointment.

  Refocusing on my current predicament, I sense that the smooth talker hasn’t taken my hint. My suspicions are confirmed when I feel hot breath against my neck. I turn around to tell him yet again that I’m not interested, but he cuts me off.

  “I can get you a whole lot more than a drink if you need it,” he says while he attempts to sneak his hand up my thigh.

  I shiver in disgust at his touch and prepare my fist to meet his face.

  “I don’t think my boyfriend would be too pleased if I let another guy buy me a drink, or anything else for that matter.” I remove his hand from my thigh and begin to stand up, but not before this douchebag puts his hands on my hips and attempts to pull me in toward him.

  “Don’t pull the boyfriend card on me, baby. I could see you making eyes at me from across the bar,” he says as his stale breath hits my neck again. I could almost get drunk from the amount of alcohol he’s consumed.

  “Sorry, but that wasn’t meant for you,” I say as I attempt to push him away from me. I don’t need this tonight. I swear to god, in about ten seconds I’m gonna kick this asshole in the balls.

  Just as I manage to push him off me, he tries to grab me again, but is stopped by the body that now shields my own.

  “I’m pretty sure my girlfriend said she wasn’t interested. Do I need to spell it out for you?” Jess turns around and puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” he asks while searching my face.

  “Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. I had this handled,” I say sheepishly.

  “I can see that,” he says with a quick smile before turning to the guy with the wandering hands. “I think right about now would be a good time for you to scram, before I take your sorry ass out back.” Jess says this with a seriousness that wouldn’t usually frighten me, but I find myself thankful I’m not that other guy.

  The guy mutters a quick apology and bolts through the crowd for the other side of the bar. Jess turns around and stares at me with his eyebrows raised.

  “So I guess this is the part where I thank you and we live happily ever after?” I say as I turn back to the bar with Jess in tow.

  “I mean, would it really be that bad?” He laughs.

  “Well, in all seriousness, thank you. I could have handled it myself, but it was nice not having to,” I say. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone stand up for me, and I won’t deny it feels good.

  “It was my pleasure, Eleanor Ivy. Now, if I may, I think I’m going to buy you that drink.”

  This time, I don’t say no.

  Three shots and two vodka cranberries later, I’m feeling incredible. It’s the first time I’ve been able to actually let loose all week, and I don’t mind admitting the presence of Jess Parker hasn’t been too bad.

  As we each down our fourth shot of tequila, I start to let go of everything I’ve been carrying over the past few weeks and just be present. As Jess is educating me on all things hockey, not that I'm paying much attention, Viv spots me and heads over.

  I can tell from her less-than-perfect balance that she’s also had one too many vodkas, but I’m in no mindset to care. All I want to do right now is dance. I mumble something along the lines of “be right back” to Jess and rush to meet Viv in the middle of the dance floor.

  David Guetta is playing, and I let my body take over and move to the music. The DJ is flashing multicolored strobe lights, and it feels as if the entire dance floor is on the same crazy trip.

  As the song ramps up, so does my dancing. I find myself throwing my arms in the air and moving my body to each beat of the song. Mid spin, I notice Jess staring at me from the bar. His gaze locks straight onto mine. My body feels electrified and tingly, something I haven’t had much of lately.

  Just as I’m about to go and persuade him to dance with us, I feel someone come up behind me. I turn around to see none other than Dylan Scott. Fresh-faced, blond-haired, blue-eyed Dylan Scott looking perfect, as usual. Dylan was in my Spanish class freshman year, and we went out for a few months. Ever since then, we’ve hooked up occasionally, but I haven’t seen him in six months because of his time abroad in London.

  My surprise, mixed with the high alcohol quantity in my system, makes me let out a little yelp. “Holy shit! Dylan, what are you doing here?” I say, trying to shout over the music and simultaneously maintain my balance.

  I’m not a very enthusiastic person, especially around Dylan, so I know I’m drunk.

  “Just got back last night. The guys and I thought we would come celebrate my return,” he says, then slyly slips in, “Plus, I thought you might be here.” He flashes his golden smile, then proceeds to engulf me in a hug.

  “God, I’ve missed you, Ives,” he whispers in my ear.

  I’ve never been a fan of that nickname. I have a feeling I know what he’s missed, and it wasn’t
our minimal conversation.

  As I pull away from the hug, I look up at Dylan in his signature blue button-down, his golden-blond hair wafted to the side. We could have been something, but I just never put myself into it enough, and he got tired of waiting.

  “Well, I’m gonna go get a drink, but let’s catch up later,” he says as he lets go of my hand, which I hadn’t realized he had been holding.

  “Yeah, for sure, Dylan. I’ll text you,” I say with a smile, even though I know I probably won’t.

  “I would say that I’m gonna hold you to that, but, well, that was never really your style,” he adds before flashing another smile. Then he disappears through the crowd.

  I can’t help but feel a sting from his last comment. I know Dylan doesn’t mean it with malice, but I also know he’s never fully gotten over our breakup.

  Before I even know what I’m doing, I find myself searching the crowd for Jess. I spot him at a table with Will and Viv; they’re taking another round of shots. Realizing I probably left Viv alone on the dance floor, I hurry to join them.

  Walking over to the table, Jess looks at me with raised eyebrows and his signature smirk.

  “I was gonna come over and pull the boyfriend card, but you seemed to have the situation covered,” he says before taking a sip from his beer. His warm gaze roams over my body, not even bothering to be subtle.

  Before I can respond, Viv shoves another shot at my face, and I gulp it before thinking. The cold liquid burns my throat while intensifying my lack of stability.

  Maybe that was one shot too many.

  “So, was that who I think it was, Ellie?” Viv grins.

  “If you mean was that Dylan Scott, then yes, it was. We’re just friends this time around, Viv. I mean it.” I attempt to put on a stern face, but I think I probably just look frazzled at this point.

  “So how do you know Dylan Scott?” Jess casually asks as he takes another swig from his beer.