My God, but she towered over me. My eyes were on level with her shoulders. Without sleeves, her freckles were clearly visible. Didn't they make a bronzing lotion for people her shade?
Impatient for the evening to start, she tapped her cinch purse against her chin. Her gaze roamed over me as she pushed away from the wall. "Ready?"
"I got fifty dollars for tonight. I hope that's enough." Flicking off the bedroom light, I pulled the door closed behind me. I didn't have any pricey, designer purses, and I felt like a fool bringing along a cheap Family Universe knock-off. Improvising, I stuffed the bill down the front of my bra.
Red's eyes followed my movements. Amused, she rolled her eyes and pivoted away from the door. We walked through the large family room, past the piano and bookshelves. As we drew closer to the stairs, the beating of my heart accelerated. How was I supposed to walk down the stairs in these shoes?
That annoying redhead descended the stairs with no hesitation, her hips rocking and her long legs peeking through the slit of her dress. She made it look so easy. Me? I'd probably trip on the top step and roll down the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom. Grasping the rail in a death grip, I took my first wobbly step down. Wobbly step after wobbly step, I finally made it down the first flight of stairs.
Red had already made it downstairs and was walking across the foyer to the coatrack. She made a comment, but it was in one ear and out the other. When she noticed my silence, she grabbed her coat and turned around. Her palm came up to her forehead when she saw my cautious descent. With an exasperated sigh, she stormed up the steps and grabbed my hand. "Don't you know how to walk in heels?"
"It's been a really long time." With me holding on for dear life, we marched down the last flight. Albertine stood at the bottom, grinning and waving at us, while Melia looked on with amusement. I bet she was hoping that I'd lose my balance and go toppling down the stairs.
That got my back up. Pulling away from Red, I stood erect and lifted my chin. With a noticeable struggle, I walked past Melia, ignoring her snicker.
Red waved her purse towards Albertine. "Don't bother waiting up for us. We're going to be late."
Albertine's dark eyes fluttered behind her lenses. "Please stay safe, you two. Don't take drinks from strangers. Don't leave your purse unattended. Don't—"
"These two crusty ass bitches?" Melia said. "You don't think they know that? 'Specially that red-headed one." A knowing smile curled her lips.
"Oh, hush, Melia," Albertine said, pushing her friend aside. She grabbed the front door and pulled it wide. Moving to stand behind it, she shooed us out onto the porch.
Damn. I had forgotten about the porch steps. I raised my hand in Red's direction. It connected with brisk, cool air. I peeked over at Red and noticed her staring down at my hand.
"I can't believe that Mercy Higgins is asking for help!" she snorted as she took my hand.
Wincing at her words, I asked, "Do I really come off as that big of a hard-ass?"
"Yes!" Melia barked from the door. I peered over my shoulder and saw Albertine and Melia standing in the open doorway. There was a flash of light, creating white spots in my vision. I blinked, and then I noticed the camera in Albertine's hands. Shit-on-a-stick, did they think it was prom night?
Tired of being scrutinized, I stormed towards the town car. Of course, I didn't make it that far. I lost my footing just as the driver opened the car door. Before I gave Melia something to laugh at, I hurled myself inside. Settling onto the seat, I draped the shawl over my lap and looked out the opposite window. I could hear a couple of guffaws from outside the car, but I didn't look for their source.
Red followed me into the car. After she got comfortable, I turned to her and asked, "So where are we going exactly? Who are we meeting?"
It was dark inside the car, but I could feel her movements and smell her perfume. The scent had an earthier quality than the Gardenia she usually wore. She opened her little purse and pulled out lipstick. Flipping open a mirror, she applied another layer of color to her already bright lips. "We're meeting some clients of mine," she said, in between smacking her lips. With a dismissive grin, she returned the lipstick to her purse. As the driver pulled onto the street, Red rolled down the window and waved at Melia and Albertine.
The drive was fairly short considering it was in another part of town. We passed through run-down neighborhoods then flashier new money spots. Finally, we pulled up in front of a colonial-style mansion. There was a line of cars ahead of us. We idled on the street, waiting for our turn.
I scooted over to Red's side and glanced out her window. The house looked pretty grand, but the outside statuary was so gaudy it had a cheap quality. Iron lamps illuminated the walkway up to the house. Green shrubs had been trimmed into mythical creatures, but for the life of me, all I could envision were penises and hearts.
Anxiety blossomed in my chest as I noticed how many people were at this event. Working at Family Universe, I was used to seeing hundreds of people crammed into a tight space, but this was different. Shoppers typically didn't care what they wore or who saw them wearing it.
Numerous town cars and limousines lined up in front of the house, letting passengers out. Women dressed in gorgeous ball gowns held onto the arms of their male escorts, most of them dressed in formal military uniforms. Where in the hell were we?
I wanted to open the car door and throw myself out onto the street. I wanted a car to drive over me, ending my anxiety. A hospital visit would be preferable to going to this shindig. Then again, I doubted anyone in the emergency room would be impressed with my red dress and killer calves.
Our car made it to the front of the line. The driver climbed out and walked around to Red's door. He offered Red his beefy hand as he pulled the car door wide for our departure.
After he helped her from the car, he reached down and offered his hand to me. For the second time that night, I accepted someone's help. He gripped my hand firmly as I slid out of the backseat. The contrast in our skin penetrated my mind. When was the last time a man held my hand? Pulling away from him, I adjusted the back of my dress and smoothed the fabric over my hips.
Behind me, Red stood near the curb, her phone pressed to her ear. I could hear her telling someone that we had arrived. She hung up and slid her arm through mine as we walked up the stairs leading to the grand entrance of the mansion.
"May I take your coats?" asked an attendant as we entered the foyer. Red handed the attendant her coat and then she grabbed the edge of my shawl, pulling it from my shoulders. I glowered at her, but she rolled her eyes and tossed the garment to the attendant.
I felt like I was naked, standing in front of a full room. My gaze danced over the crowd, taking in the finery. Some uniforms I recognized as American, but I could only guess that others belonged to members of foreign services.
The smell of primrose filled the air. As I turned towards the scent, a woman stopped in front of us, blocking our entry into the crowd.
"May I have your names, please?" she asked. Her navy blue gown fit loosely on her petite frame. She had recently dyed her hair an absurd red, and I immediately sought out Red's vibrant tresses. The gatekeeper had a sour expression on her prune face. Although she had to be in her late forties or early fifties, acne dotted her chin. She had tried to cover the blemishes with foundation, but her poor application only drew attention to the imperfections. She stared down at a clipboard in her hand. Deep lines framed her mouth as her thin lips disappeared into a line of displeasure.
Red shook her head as she looked at the woman's hair. "C'mon Deanna, you know who I am."
Deanna raised her chin and narrowed her eyes at Red. Her nose lifted in the air as she said, "I'm sorry, but you aren't on the list. I will have to ask you to leave." Her displeasure had been replaced with smugness.
Color blossomed on my cheeks as I realized we were party-crashers. Other party-goers—invited guests—bunched around the narrow entry. The couple behind us huffed impatiently, waiting fo
r us to move aside. I took a step back but Red grabbed my arm.
"We wouldn't be here if we weren't invited," assured Red. She glanced around the room, searching for her clients.
Deanna moved to block her view. This broad was enjoying this all too much. She lifted her clipboard and pointed it towards the doorway. "I am deeply sorry, ladies, but you will have to leave. I suggest doing so quietly or I'll have to call security."
There were a few snickers from the crowd. That triggered something in me. I felt like snatching her clipboard and hurling it outside into the nearest fountain.
Suddenly, the crowd around the door parted as an older gentleman stepped towards us. "They are my guests, Ms. Worthington," he said. There were low murmurs as the crowd recognized our new arrival. The man wore a white dress jacket, gold cummerbund and black trousers. On his shoulders were black shoulder boards, each with an anchor and two gold stars.
Deanna's expression turned deferential as she looked at him. Her gaze flickered in Red's direction before falling to the floor. I expected her to curtsy at any moment.
"Oh! Admiral Baxter, sir, I apologize but I am following protocol," Deanna said. "These..." She paused as she apparently thought of the right word. "Ladies must be on the list in order to be admitted."
"Hi, Tommy," Red purred. She smirked at Deanna as the Admiral acknowledged her with a nod.
The Admiral grabbed the clipboard from Deanna's hand. He flipped through the pages before he snatched the pen from Deanna. He began to scrawl on the sheet, but then peeked through his lashes at me and said, "And what's your name, ma'am?"
"Mercy Belle Higgins," I said, the words flowing out of my mouth.
He glanced at Red with amusement. "You must be new," he said before he winked at me. He wrote my name on the list and handed it back to Deanna. "There. You'll find that my guests are on your list." He pivoted, turning his back on Deanna. Lifting his arms, he offered his escort.
Red curved her arm through his and shot me a quick glance. I looked down at his arm, then back to his face, and down at his arm again. Smiling with patient amusement, he looped his arm through mine. As we walked into the main hall, I looked back to see Deanna standing there with undisguised hatred. I'd wager my fifty bucks that these two women had fought for the affections of this particular gentleman. It seemed that Red had come out the winner.
The room was packed. There was hardly any room to maneuver. The Admiral led us to two other men standing near the entrance to the dance floor. One was dressed in a uniform similar to the Admiral's. The other guy had on a blue jacket and blue trousers. He wore a black cummerbund, and on his shoulder boards was a single silver star.
The man dressed in blue was a tall, black man who looked close to my age. His skin was a rich mahogany color, and his eyes reminded me of dark chocolate. His head was shaved bald, but there was a groomed mustache above his lips. His gaze flickered over Red and then settled on me. He must have noticed me scrutinizing him, because he returned my stare. He looked delicious, and I fought the urge to consume him right on the spot.
No wedding ring? No jealous woman staring daggers at me? Excellent. He was all mine. I leaned into Red's ear and whispered, "Thanks."
It had been a long time since I had felt the desire to flirt with a man. I thought I'd lost the ability, but it seemed my instincts were taking over. Curling the corners of my lips, I batted my fake lashes at him.
The Admiral rested his hand on the small of my back. I stiffened at the contact. It was an intimate gesture for a stranger, especially since I showed favor towards the man in blue. The Admiral and the other gentleman in white weren't my type. They were handsome men with respectful demeanors but they were White, and I strongly preferred my men to be Black.
"John, I would like you to meet Mercibel Higgins," the Admiral said to the other man.
Hearing Mercibel ushered forth images of my long deceased grandmother. She would call me "Mercy Belle", blurring together the two names. She was the only person to call me that, and it didn't sit right for this stranger to say it. "Actually, that is 'Mercy Belle.' Two names." I offered my hand for a handshake. "You may call me Mercy."
There was humor on this new guy's face. "Lord have Mercy on my soul!" He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. As he winked at me, his thumb brushed against the skin of my palm. The second man to hold my hand tonight. I practically yanked it from his grasp. The corners of his lips quirked upward as he turned towards Red. He hooked his thumb in my direction. "Rookie?" With his back turned to me, I rubbed the back of my hand against my dress.
The Black man saw my movement. He cleared his throat as he glanced away from the group. "I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name?" I said, looking at him.
The Admiral cringed, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, ma'am." He stood before me, clicked his heels together, and gave a formal bow. "I am Rear Admiral Thomas Stamford Baxter." He motioned to the other gentleman in white. "This is Vice Admiral Johnson Craft." He turned towards the handsome Black man and added, "And Brigadier General Truman Washington."
I eyed General Washington, hoping a sultry look was in my eyes. "General Washington?" His head bobbed in my direction, but his gaze darted back to Admiral Craft.
"Ladies, may I find you something to drink?" Admiral Craft asked, beaming at me. His gaze flickered over my breasts and I felt my skin flush. It must have shown, because he looked satisfied with my reaction.
"Two champagnes, please," Red ordered as she wedged herself between me and Craft. She tapped her cinch purse against my hip. "Isn't this grand?"
It was a nice affair. So grand it was overwhelming. There had to be two or three hundred people. A few couples were dancing on a small, tight dance floor. Women huddled on the staircase, staring and whispering at other women's attire. Groups of men laughed at each other's jokes. Around the edges of the room, several young men stood with their dates, boredom on their faces.
"I think Johnny likes you," Red whispered into my ear. Her eyes were locked on Admiral Craft and her lips puckered with disapproval. Odd. I would have imagined a different reaction.
I glanced at General Washington, but he was watching the couples on the dance floor. Should I ask him to dance? Would that be too bold? I stared at him, wishing he would look at me.
"Will there be anyone else joining us tonight?" I asked Red quietly. Was the General avoiding my gaze? Well, then. I turned my back on him. I wasn't going to stand there gaping at the man if he wasn't interested.
"No," Red said. "Just you and me tonight. My friend had a conflict and Truman's date cancelled at the last minute."
"Shit. I can understand why," I murmured under my breath.
"Carol, Mercy," said Craft as he handed us flutes of champagne. Red's nose fell into the bowl of the flute as she sniffed the golden, sparkling wine. She raised it to her lips and sipped it.
My mouth was parched. I lifted the glass and took a loud gulp. Eyes swiveled towards me as I licked drops from my lips. Ducking my head in embarrassment, I glanced at the General and caught his gaze. I took smaller sips as we stared at each other. Our eye contact was broken when Craft stepped between us.
Craft was a solid-looking man in his early to mid-sixties. Compact, an inch taller than me with dark gray eyes, he looked back and forth between me and the General. "So where has Carol been hiding you?"
I kept my face blank, refusing to answer. He didn't like that. He lifted the flute from my hand and shoved it at General Washington. The General stared at him, annoyed. I looked at the General with a silent apology and he smiled at me.
Craft placed his hand on the spot where Baxter had touched me earlier. I stepped forward, moving away from the intimate contact. He increased the pressure, pushing me towards the dance floor. Oh no. No way in hell. Digging in my heels, I said, "I'm not much of a dancer."
"Nonsense," he scoffed. "I bet you're light on your feet." I glanced back at Red whose brows were furrowed. Although her features were drawn, she didn't intervene. Baxter was leanin
g into her side, whispering in her ear. Whatever he said captured her attention. She threw back her head and laughed.
Craft turned me into his embrace. He rested one hand on my waist, grabbed my hand, and we struck a waltzing pose. With a boastful smirk, he shuffled us across the floor.
We danced in silence. I would have thought he would have burned my ears with ridiculously flirtatious words. Instead, he kept looking in Red's direction. Whenever he noticed her laughing with Baxter, he would tighten his grip on me and frown. He dropped his face close to mine, and I could smell the gin on his breath.
I hadn't wanted to dance, but I decided this wasn't the right venue to tell this man to go to Hell. Then again, I didn't think it was me that he wanted to dance with.
Looking over the other couples on the dance floor, I noticed a few women standing in a corner. Their heads were bent towards each other as if plotting something. Deanna stood in the middle of the group, pointing in our direction. The other women turned and stared at me, disgust and disapproval clear on their faces.
Alarmed, I looked back at Red, but she and Baxter were no longer in the same spot. I searched the room for General Washington, and I found him standing with a group of Black men. They were laughing, and I knew that he wasn't interested in my plight.
I continued to look around the room, as I didn't want to look at Craft. He knew I was avoiding his stare. I felt his hand slide from my waist and down over my ass. I stopped dancing as I grabbed his hand and glared at him with an angry look.
He batted his eyes and grinned. "That got your attention, huh?" he said, laughing. The music faded as the other couples parted and began to clap. As I backed away from Craft, my back slammed into a warm body.
"Admiral Craft, would you mind if I had this next dance?" asked a new voice, spoken over my head. Spinning around, my nose brushed the button of his jacket. I stepped back to get a better look.
My eyes scanned over the crisp white tuxedo shirt with its black bow-tie. His mouth caught my attention, and it popped into my mind that he had lovely, full lips.
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