“All I’m saying is that you deserve someone who tells you how he feels. Someone who isn’t afraid of rejection. Someone who isn’t afraid to put it all out there.”
“Maybe that’s who you want,” I say.
“And that’s not who you want?” Caroline says taking a step back away from me. I think about it for a moment.
“Well, no I wouldn’t say that. It is who I want,” I finally say. “But I had a boyfriend then. And Tom and I were friends. So I couldn’t expect him to—“
“You couldn’t expect him to put it all out there? Tell you how he feels and take the risk of getting hurt?” Caroline cuts me off.
I hate to admit it, but that’s exactly what I want. That’s exactly what I wanted from him back then. I didn’t want him to just hang around being my friend, making me question my feelings for him. And if he had done that, if he had told me how he felt about me earlier, before my awful breakup, then I would’ve jumped in. I would’ve broken up with my ex immediately to be with him.
“So, is that what I should do now? Now that things are sort of reversed?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, now that he’s the one in the relationship. Should I just put it all out there? Tell him how I feel. Leave it all on the table, so to speak.”
Caroline takes a moment to think about this. I appreciate it because I know how little she thinks of him.
“Because I don’t know if I can,” I add quietly.
“Maybe that’s your answer right there,” Caroline finally says. “If you did want him, really want him to be yours, then you wouldn’t be able to not to. You’d have to tell him.”
I go back into my dressing room and pull the curtain closed. I look at myself in the mirror. The pale girl with green eyes and long dark hair is a coward. She is afraid of life. Afraid to really live. Would this ever change?
Chapter 4
When you decide to live your life…
“Are you ready?” Caroline bursts into my room. “Our cab is downstairs.”
No, I’m not ready. Not at all. But I’m going. I take one last look in the mirror and grab my suitcase. As the cab driver loads our bags into the trunk, Caroline takes my hand, giddy with excitement. Excited is not how I would describe my state of being. More like reluctant. And terrified. When I get into the cab, my stomach drops and I feel like I’m going to throw up. But then the feeling passes.
“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” I say.
“I know, right? I’m so happy you’re doing this with me, Ellie. I mean, really. I don’t know if I could go by myself.”
After ten minutes of meandering through the convoluted streets of lower Manhattan, the cab drops us off in front of a nondescript office building.
“Is the party here?” I ask.
Caroline shakes her head with a little smile on her face. She knows something I don’t know. I can tell by that mischievous look on her face.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
But she doesn’t give in. Instead, she just nudges me inside toward the security guard at the front desk.
She hands him a card, he nods, and shows us to the elevator.
“Top floor,” he says.
When we reach the top floor, the elevator doors swing open on the roof and a strong gust of wind knocks into me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see it. The helicopter. The blades are already going. A man approaches us and takes our bags.
“What are we doing here?” I yell on top of my lungs. But Caroline doesn’t hear me. I follow her inside the helicopter, ducking my head to make sure that I get in all in one piece.
A few minutes later, we take off. We fly high above Manhattan, maneuvering past the buildings as if we’re birds. I’ve never been in a helicopter before and, a part of me, wishes that I’d had some time to process this beforehand.
“I didn’t tell you because I thought you would freak,” Caroline says into her headset. She knows me too well. She pulls out her phone and we pose for a few selfies.
“It’s beautiful up here,” I say looking out the window.
In the afternoon sun, the Manhattan skyline is breathtaking. The yellowish red glow bounces off the glass buildings and shimmers in the twilight.
I don’t know where we are going, but for the first time in a long time, I don’t care. I stay in the moment and enjoy it for everything it’s worth.
Quickly the skyscrapers and the endless parade of bridges disappear and all that remains below us is the glistening of the deep blue sea.
And then suddenly, somewhere in the distance I see it. The yacht. At first, it appears as barely a speck on the horizon. But as we fly closer, it grows in size. By the time we land, it seems to be the size of its own island.
A tall, beautiful woman waves to us as we get off the helicopter. She’s holding a plate with glasses of champagne and nods to a man in a tuxedo next to her to take our bags.
“Wow, that was quite an entrance,” Caroline says to me.
“Mr. Black knows how to welcome his guests,” the woman says. “My name is Lizbeth and I am here to serve you.”
Lizbeth shows us around the yacht and to our stateroom.
“There will be cocktails right outside when you’re ready,” Lizbeth said before leaving us alone.
As soon as she left, we grabbed hands and let out a big yelp.
“Oh my God! Can you believe this place?” Caroline asks.
“No, it’s amazing,” I say, running over to the balcony. The blueness of the ocean stretched out as far as the eye could see.
“Are you going to change for cocktails?” Caroline asks, sitting down at the vanity. “The helicopter did a number on my hair.”
We both crack up laughing. Neither of us have ever been on a helicopter before – let alone a boat this big.
I decide against a change of clothes – my Nordstrom leggings and polka dot blouse should do just fine for cocktail hour. But I do slip off my pair of flats and put on a nice pair of pumps, to dress up the outfit a little bit.
While Caroline changes into her short black dress, I brush the tangles out of my hair and reapply my lipstick.
“Ready?” Caroline asks.
Chapter 5
When you’re asked to change for the first time…
Much to our surprise, when we get to the living room at the end of the hallway, there’s no one there. Not a single soul. I make my way through the French doors and onto the deck outside, but there’s no one there either.
“Are we just supposed to wait here?” Caroline asks. I shrug.
After a few minutes, Lizbeth reappears with one garment bag swung over her shoulder.
“Are we in the wrong place?” I ask.
“I’m terribly sorry. But Mr. Black wants you to wear this.”
I stare at her for a moment. Before it hits me that she’s talking to me.
“What?”
Lizbeth repeats the statement verbatim, without offering a single additional word of explanation.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask. A flash of heat pounces through my body. I turn to Caroline for some backup. But instead of offering her support, she grabs my arm and takes me back to our stateroom.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I demand.
She looks me up and down and shakes her head. “I don’t know. That’s actually a very nice outfit.”
I know she’s telling the truth because Caroline would never lie about something as important as fashion. She opens the garment bag. A part of me is still expecting it to contain two outfits. But no, it just has one. A short, sheer, red dress. Strapless.
“I’m not wearing this.”
There’s a loud knock on the door.
“Is everything alright in there?” Lizbeth asks through the door.
“I’m not wearing this!” I say loud enough for her to hear.
“Yes, she is,” Caroline says. “We’re fine. We’ll be out in
a few minutes.”
I stare at Caroline with a perplexed look on my face.
“This is a beautiful dress. Numi. Her stuff is basically impossible to get. Really high end.”
I cross my arms. “I don’t care,” I say.
Caroline takes the dress and presses it to her body. She looks into the mirror with a forlorn look on her face.
“Seriously, Ellie. This dress is major!”
“I don’t care. Who the hell is he to tell me what to wear? I mean what kind of manners is that? And who the hell is Mr. Black anyway?”
“I don’t know. And that’s what I can’t wait to find out. And for us to find out, you have to put on this dress.”
I shake my head no. She continues to pester me. Minutes tick away and neither of us give in.
“If you insist on being such a baby, I’m going to go out there by myself,” Caroline finally says.
“Seriously? Who the hell does he think he is telling me what to wear?”
We go back and forth for a few more minutes. Eventually, I let up. I don’t want to stay in this room all by myself all evening. And clearly, I can’t go out without putting this on.
I go into the bathroom for some privacy.
Caroline has seen me naked on occasion but something about this dress is extra uncomfortable. It’s not like I’m putting on my own clothes.
I pull off my leggings and blouse. I hold the dress out in front of me and realize that I’m going to have to remove my bra as well. Damn. Slipping the dress over my head, I pray that it fits. My prayers are answered. It does!
After zipping it on the side, I look in the mirror. It’s short, but incredibly flattering. It hugs me in all the right places, accentuating only my best features.
“You’re gorgeous!” Caroline’s jaw drops open when I come out of the bathroom.
I nod. I hate to admit it, but it is quite pretty.
“I can’t believe they didn’t give me something like this to wear,” Caroline says as we walk back out into the living room. “That’s it, next time I’m showing up in a brown paper bag so they’ll have no choice.”
Chapter 6
When you meet a brooding stranger…
This time the living room is filled with people. Really attractive people. Men in their twenties and early thirties are crowding around the bar. Others are sitting in leather chairs and on the couch. Beautiful women walk around with cocktails in their hands as if they own the place. Many are already coupled up – sitting close to each other with their legs pointing toward their partners.
Caroline heads straight to the bar and orders us two martinis. I’m happy to have a drink to relax me. Liquid courage, so to speak.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot one man sitting all by himself. He’s one of the most attractive guys here. But it’s the serious, brooding look on his face that really makes him stand out. I wonder if maybe one of his friends dragged him here as well. I take two big sips of my martini.
Following Caroline’s lead, I take a seat at one of the bar stools. She has a way of positioning herself in such a way that she’s half facing the room. This way, she can talk to me and still let any any interested parties out there know that it’s okay to approach. Two guys quickly take the bait.
No cheesy pickup lines here. Just straight out introductions. Ben is the taller one with honey blonde hair and grey eyes. He’s the one who seems more interested in me. Alex’s deep blue eyes are glued to Caroline.
Within a few minutes, we find out that they are both finance bros – investment bankers who work on Wall Street. Ben went to Brown and Alex to Dartmouth. They found out about the party pretty much the same way that Caroline did. Someone in a secret society talked who shouldn’t have. I don’t know whether the person was from the Cicada 17 or not.
“At first, we didn’t know if this was a girl-only party,” Alex says. “But as we found out more and more about it, we realized that it was just an awesome party.”
“Our boss, Logan, has been to one of these events, but no matter how much we pushed, he would not tell us a thing about it,” Ben boasted. “Except that there’s a masquerade ball.”
“Masquerade ball?” I ask.
“Yes, apparently only some of us from today will be invited to stay for the main attraction. But, honestly, I heard so many rumors about this place, who the hell knows which ones are true, right?” Ben says and we all laugh.
Caroline laughs the loudest, tossing her hair from one side to the other. Neither Ben nor Alex can seem to pull their eyes off her.
And then, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I’m facing the bar, away from the rest of the room. But I can’t help but feel someone look at me. From behind. Slowly, I turn on the barstool and look around.
His dark piercing eyes stare at me from across the room. He’s dressed in an elegant expensive suit. It’s exquisitely tailored for his long lean body. His hair is thick, the color of dark chocolate.
The man sits back in his plush chair at the far end of the room. He’s the only one not mingling or laughing. Not even smiling.
His eyes meet mine and don’t let go. After a few moments, I get so uncomfortable, I can’t bear to hold his gaze anymore. And yet, he maintains his with grace and ease.
“Who’s that?” I ask, turning away from him. “Don’t look now,” I add, but it’s too late.
Ben, Alex, and Caroline all look over at the stranger at the same time. My cheeks flush in embarrassment.
“I don’ know,” they all shrug and say almost simultaneously.
The three of them don’t seem to be very concerned with the serious look on the stranger’s face and quickly go back to chatting among themselves. But I can’t look away. There’s something that’s pulling me toward him.
His eyes – are brilliant and deep – the color of the ocean – and they mesmerize me. I look over again, watch him watching me, and then look away. His gaze is disarming, it makes me feel naked and exposed, and I cannot hold it for long. And yet, I yearn to look at him again.
“If you’re so interested in that guy, why don’t you just go over and talk to him,” Caroline says, finishing her drink.
The thought of that sends shivers down my body.
“I can’t just go over there…And say what?”
“Tell him your name and ask him how he got here,” she says with a casual shrug. “This isn’t like in a bar. You have the perfect pickup line all ready and set to go.”
“No, I can’t,” I shake my head and order another martini. More liquid courage is in order.
“Hi there,” a deep voice startles me.
Before I have the chance to turn around, I see a big wide smile sweep over Caroline’s face.
“Well, hello there, stranger. I’m Caroline,” she says extending her hand. “This is Ben, Alex, and Ellie.”
How can she do that? Be so casual and confident. Does nothing faze her? I take a deep breath and look up. It’s him. The guy from the plush chair. The lonely stranger. I know that it’s him before even turning around.
When I finally do turn, my gaze lands on his broad shoulders and the thick weave of his pristine suit. My eyes slowly pan up to his face.
Strong square jaw.
Confident nose.
Tan skin.
Hair so thick and gorgeous that it’s begging to be stroked.
And those eyes….ahhh!
“I’m Blake Garrison,” he says quietly. My heart skips a beat. The top of his lips curl up into half a smile. They are lush and shiny. When he licks his lips, my heart skips another beat.
“So, what brings you to the party Blake?” Ben asks.
“Same as you, I gather,” Blake says and turns his eyes toward me.
“I was wondering if I could have a word with you,” he says. “In private.”
Caroline’s eyes get wide.
Aren’t we a little unacquainted for private words? I wonder.
“Um, sure,” I shrug and follow him to the other end of the ba
r. It’s not exactly private, but we are outside of earshot from the rest of the guests.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Blake says.
Carefully.
Meticulously.
Each word comes out with great difficulty.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats himself. This time, the words come out almost robotically.
“I don’t understand. Why?”
My eyes search his face for an answer. What could he possibly mean? Suddenly, I notice that his eyes are inspecting my face just as feverishly.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly. “You just shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?” I ask. And suddenly, my moment of fear morphs into anger. Who the hell does he think he is telling me where I should and shouldn’t be?
“Because you don’t belong here,” he says. His eyes suddenly become overcome with sadness.
But I’ve had enough of his cryptic games.
“And you would know that, how exactly?” I ask. The question is rhetorical. I don’t wait for an answer. Instead, I walk away.
“Ellie!” he hisses. But I don’t turn around. Instead, I walk over to Caroline and take her arm.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I nod.
“Let’s have another round of drinks,” I announce. “They’re on me.”
“The drinks are free, miss,” the bartender reminds me.
Another version of me would feel bad over the social faux pas, but I just let it go. The martini that I did have is already having an effect and I feel braver and stronger than I had before. Plus, walking away from that rude asshole was a statement. A moment of empowerment.
“Are you okay?” Caroline asks again. I can tell that she’s sensing that something’s wrong.
“What did he say to you?”
“He’s a weirdo,” I announce. “He said that I shouldn’t be here.”
Caroline shakes her head.
“Yeah, he just came out and said that out loud. I mean, is it just me, or is that a really rude thing to say?” I add. Caroline shrugs.
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