by C. C. Morian
“Come on, let’s dance again,” she said, grabbing Andrew by the hand. Kris led him back to the dance floor, and now Andrew, after a few drinks, was loosening up, and Kris was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was actually a better dancer than she was, and she was pretty good. While they were dancing she glanced over at the table. Brin and Patricia were watching them. Brin was smiling, but Patricia had a frown on her face.
When the song ended and they got back to the table, Brin whispered to Kris, “You two look pretty good together.”
“He’s a great dancer,” said Kris. She noticed Patricia staring at Andrew with a predatory look in her eyes. Without thinking, Kris said, “I’m surprised you aren’t dancing, Patricia, you love it so much.”
Patricia put her hand on John’s knee. “Let’s dance.”
John said, “I’m not much of a dancer to this kind of music. Maybe if they play something slower.”
Kris caught Patricia rolling her eyes, and a hint of a little anger, Patricia didn’t want to be shown up, for everyone to recognize that she hadn’t picked out the perfect guy at the reunion to be with. Kris felt herself smile, she couldn’t help it, for once seeing Patricia stymied. But when Patricia noticed her smile, Kris immediately realized she had made a mistake. She wiped it off her face, but the damage was done.
Patricia’s eyes swept to Andrew. “Well, in that case, maybe Andrew would be nice enough to dance with me. Especially since Kris just told Brin what a great dancer you are.”
Shit, thought Kris. What else had Patricia overheard? And now she was going to take Andrew away from Kris, just to show that she could.
“I think I wore him out,” said Kris.
But Andrew was already standing up. “Sure, I’ll dance with you, Patricia.”
Worst of all, the music shifted just then to a slower song. Much of the dance floor cleared, as it always did when that happened, mostly just couples comfortable to have a more romantic dance. Kris watched helplessly as Patricia took Andrew’s arm and led him to the dance floor, where she immediately put her arms around his shoulders. Andrew didn’t seem to notice that he was being used, and he went along, holding Patricia pretty close. Patricia leaned into him, not so much as to be totally inappropriate perhaps, but just enough so that her ample chest would push into Andrew.
Patricia skillfully twirled with Andrew so that, even though he was supposedly leading, the couple always kept in full view of the table where the others sat. Kris was silently shaking in a growing rage, Patricia was doing it again. Kris pulled her eyes away briefly to glance at John, hoping he would cut in, he had said he wanted something slow, this was his chance. But John merely looked on, a handsome, slow witted sloth, maybe not even realizing he was being cuckolded in full view.
Kris had to sit on her hands, they were shaking so much. As the dance went on, Patricia wedged herself closer and closer to Andrew, now and then saying something to him, Andrew laughing. Whenever Andrew spoke Patricia would light up, like Andrew was the most amazing man in the world, and then she would stare into his eyes. Even from her seat, Kris could see Andrew succumbing to Patricia’s charms. Patricia leaned forward and pretended to raise up, the oldest trick in the book—Andrew wasn’t taller than Patricia in her heels, but she was pretending he was. She whispered something in his ear, and Andrew, whose face was toward Kris, appeared surprised, and he missed a dance step. Andrew gave a questioning look to Patricia, as if to say Really? and Patricia smiled and nodded.
Andrew hesitated just a bit and then pulled Patricia in even closer. Patricia melted into him, her arms fully around him now, like a bridal dance. She looked directly at Kris and smiled, a smile of triumph, and then closed her eyes as if in ecstasy. That’s the way they were when the song ended, Patricia not even letting go as the music stopped, holding Andrew tight, even as the rest of the dance floor cleared.
As they walked back to the table Andrew’s eyes were bright. He looked like he had just been put under a spell. Kris jumped up, wanting to catch Andrew before he sat down, thinking she’d show Patricia what was what, she could play that game, she’d show Andrew how to slow dance. But the dj had moved on, he was rolling something techno, the least romantic dance music possible.
Andrew held Patricia’s chair for her as she sat down, and she announced, “You were right, Kris, Andrew is a great dancer.” She smiled sweetly at Kris.
Kris couldn’t speak, she was so close to slapping Patricia, frustrated and angry. Before Andrew could sit down, Kris grabbed him by the hand. “Come on, let’s get some more drinks.”
Andrew let himself be led away, but Kris caught him turning his beautiful puppy eyes back to Patricia. Kris squeezed his hand, hard, to get his attention. “You two looked pretty close,” said Kris, gritting her teeth, trying to sound casual. “What was she whispering in your ear?”
Andrew reddened. “Nothing really. She just, uh, said that she liked slow dancing with me.”
I bet that’s not all Patricia wants to do with you, thought Kris. Especially since she’s just discovered that her Ken doll is a wimp.
Kris resolved not to let Patricia steal Andrew away. She’d lost too many battles through the years, and Patricia didn’t want Andrew anyway. They got their drinks, and then Kris frantically looked for anyone she recognized, so she could pretend to want to introduce them to Andrew. But there was no one around she knew, and she reluctantly followed Andrew back to the table, where he immediately became very intent on listening to what Patricia was saying. Kris sat down, growing increasingly depressed.
Andrew’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the number. “Sorry,” he said. “I have to take this, it’s my friend calling who said I could crash in his hotel room tonight.”
On the call, Andrew said, “Did you finally make it?” He listened, his face darkening with a frown. “Shit, that sucks, man.” Andrew shook his head. “Okay, thanks. I appreciate it. Talk to you later.”
“Everything okay?” asked Kris.
“Not really. I couldn’t get a hotel for this weekend, I only found out I could make it last week, and by that time everything I could afford was booked. My friend said I could sleep on the sofa in his hotel. But his flight just got cancelled, and there are no flights until tomorrow; he might just blow off the whole reunion.”
“That’s terrible!” said Kris. “Can you at least use his hotel room?”
“He’s going to check for me. He couldn’t remember if the website he got the room on guaranteed it. They might have given it away already.”
Patricia leaned across the table. “Don’t worry, Andrew, if you can’t use that hotel room, you can always stay at my place. Kris is crashing with me and Brin, but I’m sure we could find a spot for you.” Her voice held a little promise, as if to suggest to Andrew that he’d be sleeping with her.
Kris felt her eyes flame, catching the tease in Patricia’s tone. Patricia noticed it, and she said, “Unless you have a problem with that, Kris?”
Kris knew she was trapped. “That would be fine,” she mumbled, praying that Andrew’s hotel would come through, and maybe she’d be able to end up there, she’d show Patricia she didn’t need her snide remarks or her apartment.
The two women stared at each other, Kris fuming, Patricia smiling sweetly, for the moment, John forgotten.
“Andrew can sleep in my room, and Kris can share with me,” said Brin, trying to diffuse the tension.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” protested Andrew.
“It would be no problem,” said Brin.
Andrew’s phone rang again. He answered it and his face fell. “Okay, thanks for checking. No, I’ll manage. Sorry you couldn’t make it. I’ll take to you later.”
“No luck,” said Andrew. “The room wasn’t guaranteed for some reason, I think he used a bidding site. And when he missed the 8 pm check in, they gave the room to someone else.” He turned to Patricia. “So if your offer is still open, you might be stuck with me.”
Patricia smiled. “It will
be my pleasure.” But she was looking at Kris, not Andrew, as she said it.
Kris excused herself and left the table. In the ladies’ room she locked herself in a stall, trying to fight the tears. She felt pathetic. She was a strong women, with a graduate degree, a great job—she had ten people reporting to her! She managed her own money well, she was smart. And yet whenever she was with Patricia, she felt weak, her power sucked out by Patricia’s looks and guile and underhanded tactics.
Kris was smart enough to know that it was Patricia who was the weak one; Patricia had to pull everyone down so she could feel strong herself. But knowing that wasn’t enough to keep Kris from feeling terrible. She couldn’t help but feel that she was playing right into Patricia’s hands, that she was an unwitting tool.
Sure, she could just ignore Patricia, here, and in the future, just not stay in touch, cut Patricia out of her life. Yet that seemed like a surrender, not something a strong woman would do. A strong woman would take action, would solve the problem.
Kris dried her eyes. No more. She didn’t know exactly how, but things were going to change. Starting right now.
Mostly composed, Kris strode back into the reunion hall. She wasn’t surprised to see that Patricia had taken her seat, and was now sitting right by Andrew, laughing. Brin looked sheepish and embarrassed. John was frowning at Andrew, the slight from Patricia having broken his plastic visage, and yet his dismay was turned on Andrew, not on Patricia.
Seeing John so annoyed gave Kris an idea. Instead of suffering the embarrassment of asking for her chair back, she instead took Patricia’s seat next to John. Kris turned to John as if nothing was amiss.
“Hi, John. I haven’t had a chance to really talk to you.”
John pulled his eyes away from Andrew and turned them on Kris. He was handsome, admitted Kris. Not her type, but his face was totally symmetrical, his suit impeccable. A little conservatively styled for her, but still very good looking, the kind of guy who would look good in a photograph. She thought briefly of trying to flirt with him, but immediately rejected the idea. She couldn’t fake flirt, it had to be real, it had to flow. There was just no chemistry with John.
She just couldn’t play Patricia’s game here.
Still, there were other was to compete.
Kris leaned over a little closer to him and lowered her voice. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
Like most men, the idea of helping a woman immediately got John’s attention. “What can I do?” Kris could tell he had changed the tone of his voice to something deeper, to sound more masculine.
“You see that guy over there, the bartender? He—he kind of made some disparaging remarks about me back when we were at school. He said I’d never get a good looking guy.”
John turned his steely eyes on Brandon, who was pouring drinks for two women, and just then grinned, making him look a little wolfish. “Him?”
“Yes. Anyway, I don’t want you to go hit him or anything, although I know you could take him in a fight. I was just wondering if you’d be willing to—oh, forget it, it’s embarrassing.”
John was still staring at Brandon. “What were you going to say?”
Kris pretended that the words were dragged out of her. “Well, it’s kind of a girl thing. You know how a lot of us just want to show off our man, that’s mostly why we come to reunions. I was wondering—would you just be willing to go to the bar with me to get a drink? And you know, pretend we are together?”
“That’s it?”
“Well, maybe you could say something nice about me, how good I look tonight, or something like that.”
John looked at Kris like he was seeing her for the first time. “That wouldn’t be hard, you do look very nice. Elegant.”
Kris couldn’t tell if this was just John being polite, or whether he meant it. No matter. “Thank you.”
“I can have a word with him too,” said John, sounding as if he’d try to scold Brandon.
Kris didn’t want that, but the very thought of it was kind of hot, this big, strong guy going after Brandon for a supposed slight. Brandon hadn’t really said anything bad about Kris, but he had blown her off.
“No, that’s okay,” said Kris. “Just being with me will be much more satisfying—I’ll feel that I got even with him.”
They got up from the table and went to the bar line. “What would you like to drink?” asked John. “If I’m supposed to be here with you, I should know that.”
“Good idea,” said Kris. “Maybe something a little stronger than the wine. What do you suggest?”
“I’m more of a scotch man, myself. But I know that women don’t always like scotch. I tend to drink wine at these events just to, you know, not seem a lush.”
Kris had been glancing back at the table to see if Patricia and Andrew had noticed them. They weren’t looking; Patricia was just gulping down the last of her wine. Kris had hoped that Patricia would be jealous, but she seemed intent on Andrew. Still, it gave Kris an idea. . .
“You know, John, Patricia likes scotch. You two are pretty compatible. She’s the only woman I know who really likes it. In fact—no, I shouldn’t say it.”
“Say what?” asked John.
“Well, I don’t want to give you the idea that Patricia is a lush either. But she’s proud of her drinking. She would challenge guys to drinking contests in college, and she’d always win. Even if the prize was a good one.” Kris didn’t mention that Patricia had usually promised to flash her tits if she lost, and as far as Kris knew, Patricia never had. She also didn’t mention it because she wanted to keep John interested in Patricia, and wasn’t sure how he’d react to Patricia’s idea of a drinking contest prize.
“I’ve won a few drinking contests myself,” said John.
“I’m not surprised,” said Kris, giving his arm a squeeze. “You’re so big. But Patricia, I’ve seen her drink. You’d never know it for her size, but she can put away a few. In fact, she’s said that she can drink any man under the table.”
“Really now?” said John, eyeing Patricia.
“She really likes a man who can hold his liquor,” confided Kris. “Since she likes to have one now and then, she doesn’t want to be with any man who can’t keep up.” Kris put a little emphasis on the words keep up, trying to put the idea in John’s head that he was competing with Andrew.
“Is that right?”
Kris imagined John’s eyes drifting back to Andrew, calculating the odds. They had reached the bar. John seemed to have forgotten all about Brandon and his reason for being there. “Two scotches,” he ordered confidently.
Kris slipped her arm through John’s, and belatedly, he said, “Have I told you how magnificent you look tonight Kris?”
It sounded affected, but John’s demeanor pulled it off, and even Kris was taken in. “Why thank you, dear,” she replied, like they were married.
Brandon didn’t seem to even notice, but Kris didn’t mind. She was already thinking of how she could get Patricia a little tipsy, so she couldn’t steal Andrew, maybe even make a fool of herself. Kris had been telling the truth, Patricia did like her booze in college, and, given how many wines she had guzzled down, probably still did.
As they approached the table, Patricia finally looked up. John was still carrying the two scotches. “Is that for me?” asked Patricia, once again claiming John, but her eyes hungrily eyed the brown liquor.
“I actually got it for Kris,” said John. “I didn’t know you wanted one.” Magnanimously he added, “You can have mine, if you like scotch. I’ll get another.”
“I don’t think Kris drinks scotch,” said Patricia. “I can have hers.”
Kris immediately saw what Patricia was doing. Patricia thought Kris had ordered the scotch to have what John was having, and now Patricia wanted to take the connection away.
Instead, Kris said, “You’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking. You should have it.” Kris smiled inwardly. Patricia said she wouldn’t take hand m
e down men. Could she resist a hand me down scotch?
Patricia nodded, maybe not getting it, perhaps assuming she was taking something away from Kris. “If we are going to drink scotch, we should sit together so we can toast.” Patricia slid back to her seat next to John. “Salute!” she said, clinking glasses. As John started to take a sip, Patricia, seeing that all eyes were on her, downed her drink in one gulp.
John, not wanting to be outdone, turned his sip into a shot, and he put his glass down hard on the table, making a challenging thud.
“I like a man who can do shots,” said Patricia.
“And I like a woman who thinks she can drink,” said John.
Kris held her breath, would Patricia rise to the challenge? Patricia’s eyes were bright. “Let’s all do shots!” said Patricia.
“Shots!” said one of the other guests at the table.
“Shots!” said Kris, egging everyone on.
“I’m not very good at shots,” said Brin.
“Me neither,” said Andrew.
“Come on!” said Patricia. “We can have a little competition.” She wiggled suggestively, as if she was offering herself up as the prize.
“I don’t really like scotch, remember?” said Kris. She knew drinking was something else she couldn’t compete with Patricia on. Kris didn’t want to get drunk herself.
“We can do tequila,” said Patricia. “That is, if it’s okay with the rest of you.”
“I’ll get a bottle,” said one of the other guys at the table, heading off toward the bar.
“Better make it two!” Patricia called after him.
Patricia looked at Andrew and gave him her sexy eye look. “I’m sure you can do a few shots of tequila.”
Andrew wilted under her gaze. “Well, sure. Anyone can.”
“We’ll see,” said Patricia. She turned to Kris. “And you?”
Kris was stuck, she felt her plan backfiring. “Sure,” she said.
The other guy returned with two bottles. “How did you managed that?” asked Brin.