Little Gray Dress

by Aimee Brown

  I reach out and shake his outstretched hand. His touch makes my skin feels like it’s on fire and I pull it away quickly, not wanting my face to relay what this stranger is doing to me internally. I’m not normally the sort of girl who’s attracted to strange men she’s only just met. I definitely shouldn’t drink this much this quickly on an empty stomach again.

  “It’s alright. I’m Emi.”

  “Nice to meet ya, Emi. Can I get you another drink?”

  “Oh no. I’ve had more than enough, this wasn’t my first of the night. If I don’t slow down, you’ll be carrying me home.” I hear it as it comes out of my mouth and realize how it could be taken. “I mean – not carry me home… but you know, take me—” I take a sudden horrified breath “Oh my God… I didn’t mean you’d take me as in take me…” Sweet Jesus, Emi, shut up.

  His laugh is intoxicating. “No worries. I got it.”

  “Good.” I sigh and take a sip of my water and glance around the bar in front of me. I’m not sure if the situation I’m in now is any better than the situation back at Evan’s. The silence between Liam and me is awkward as I slowly sip my water and inspect the room. Mirrors line the wall in front of me, and all kinds of liquor bottles and glasses sit on the floor-to-ceiling shelves. Southwestern décor is sporadically placed around the room, making me feel a tiny bit like I’m back in Texas.

  “So, besides this ex and his new fiancée, tell me something about Emi.” Liam finally breaks the silence, an awkward smile hesitating just at the corners of his lips.

  “About me?” I guess considering that he’s paid for my drinks I at least owe him a conversation, even if it is forced.

  “Yup.”

  “Hmm… I own my own coffee shop in Dallas.” I’d much rather talk about work than about Jack. I own a successful business. That makes me look a bit better than broken-hearted, frazzled, forgot-all-my-money Emi.

  “Dallas, Texas?”

  “The one and only.” I never thought I’d consider Dallas home, but I love it.

  “What a coincidence, I grew up in Fort Worth.”

  “That’s the accent, then.” I smile at him, relieved to find someone who isn’t a part of this wedding or my past. “Oregon is a long way from Texas. What brought you here?”

  “A woman.” He winks at me. “Isn’t it always a woman that drags a man across the country?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of exper—” I stop before I can announce how few men I’ve dated. “I mean… wow. So, you’re married to a girl from Portland?” I glance down at his hand but see no ring.

  “No, not anything actually.” Liam shrugs his shoulder with a sad smile.

  “Why not?”

  “Why not what?”

  “You said you moved here for a woman and now you’re not anything, what happened?” I ask him, being far too nosey. If we’re gonna talk, though, why not talk about anything but me?

  “Hmmm…” Liam is taking some time pondering his answer, which makes me worry that I’ve asked a question far too personal for someone I’ve just met five minutes ago. “She broke my heart, actually. It sounds like we have that in common.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I force a frown. “Wait, why do you think I’m broken-hearted?”

  “Seems kind of obvious, you see him again, meet his new fiancée and you run away. It screams broken heart, don’t you think?”

  “I guess maybe…” I reluctantly agree with him even though he’s making complete sense.

  “Ah. And this ex, he’s moved on before you have?”

  “I’m not still in love with Jack, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’ve moved on; he just got engaged before I have.”

  “Why run then? If you’ve moved on, shouldn’t you be OK with seeing him?”

  I sigh and drop my head in shame. It would figure I would meet someone who could read me better than I can read myself.

  “Can I get another shot?” I ask the bartender before turning on my stool to face Liam. “Fine, I’m not exactly moved on, per se. I don’t want him back or anything… He just... He’s engaged to a girl who made my life miserable.” The bartender hands me my shot and I swallow it as quickly as possible. “I’ll tell you this but only because I don’t know you and because of that you won’t tell my family and friends.”

  “Fair enough.” he says. His dark eyes almost sparkle with intrigue and he sets down his water and gives me his full attention.

  It’s far easier to explain your devastating past to someone who knows nothing about you. Maybe, since he seems to be able to read me as well as he has so far, he can give me some insight as to why I’m acting like a complete loon. After all, he too is suffering a broken heart. He said so himself.

  Chapter Six

  Three Years Ago

  Downtown Portland, Oregon

  The Mayfairs

  “Tonight is the Christmas party, so please tell me you’ve made sure you can be home by five to get ready?” I ask Jack who’s standing at the kitchen counter waiting for his coffee to brew.

  “Yes, I’ll be home by six at the latest and ready to go by seven.”

  “Good. Cause I hate work functions alone.”

  “You hate work functions at all,” Jack laughs.

  He’s right. I’m not the biggest fan of work functions. I do all the PR and advertising for Mayfair Homes, so I should probably go and show my face and pretend that I love spending my evenings with the people I already spend eight hours a day with.

  “I know. How about we go out for drinks afterwards?”

  “Perfect! Maybe we can just make a quick appearance and leave early.”

  “Maybe, but then how would you mingle with all the contacts you’ve brought to the business? You’re good at your job, Emi. You should put on a smile and be proud of that.”

  “Why do you always have to be so good at making me feel better? Maybe I wanted to pretend I’m always irritated, instead of proud of what I’ve done.” I can’t help but laugh because even though I put on a serious face at work and around the clients, Jack knows I love what I do. I may not love the furniture business, but I love that I’ve helped grow this company into one of the top home stores in the area.

  “It’s cause you’re cute.” He winks before patting me on the behind and heading towards the front door. It’s not like my job is nearly as important as his job as a lawyer. Not that he’ll ever admit that. He says he went into law because his dad was in the business and he always wanted to be like his father. But I don’t think that’s really it. Jack is the second top lawyer at his firm and he works so hard for people he barely knows. I’m proud of him and I know he’s proud of himself. “I’ll see ya tonight.”

  When I get to work, my boss Aron Mayfair is waiting for me at my desk. “Emi, I have an idea that I wanted to run past you.”

  “OK, shoot.” I click on my computer and sit at my desk that he’s leaning against.

  “Have you seen those commercials from businesses in town wishing their clients a Merry Christmas?”

  “I have.”

  “Can we turn this Christmas party into one of those? We’ve got just over 3 weeks until Christmas so you should have time to get everything lined up. What do you think?”

  “I think that’s a great idea, Aron. I’ll get started on everything right now and arrange for our film crew to be there tonight. Leave it to me and it’ll be great.”

  “One thing, though…” He stands away from my desk. “I want Greta to be the host of the show. Maybe she could walk around and ask questions to our employees.”

  “I’m not sure what kind of show it will be?” I ask, thinking he was talking two-minute commercial here. “Really the ad can’t be more than a couple of minutes.”

  “I know, I know, but Greta gets so much attention everywhere she goes and she wants to become the face of the company. I’m thinking what better way to start than with a Christmas and New Year ad?”

  “OK, maybe we can have her ask clients about their New Yea
r’s resolutions and just do a Happy Holidays ad as opposed to a specific Christmas ad?”

  “Perfect! I’ll let her know. What time should she be there tonight to get started?”

  Shoot. I didn’t want to come to this party at all, and now I have to work it. So much for arriving with Jack, I guess we’ll just meet up there. “Um… Maybe have her meet me at five, that will give us an hour to work through her performance and get ready.” When I say ‘performance’, I mean that as loosely as possible. A holiday commercial is hardly much of a performance, or ‘show’, as Aron keeps calling it.

  “I knew I could count on you, Em. You’re a star!”

  “You know who Greta Mayfair is, right?” Morgan, my camera guy, flips open a magazine he brought with him. A tall, thin, half-naked, blonde woman stares back at me.

  “Whoa.” I stare down at the picture even though I suddenly feel a little dirty. This girl has no shame and apparently not a lot of morals from the looks of it.

  “That’s just the pic I felt comfortable showing you. She’s done full-out nude.”

  “So, then, why come work for her dad’s furniture store, if she’s basically a playboy bunny?”

  “They fired her. I guess she’s a real bitch. No one wants to work with her anymore so her daddy is saving her.”

  “How do you know so much about this?” I ask Morgan, who’s busy setting up his camera and technical supplies.

  “You saw that picture. Every man knows about her.”

  “Gross. Well let’s just make sure she’s wearing clothes and everything should go fine.”

  “I hope so.” Morgan nods towards the doorway.

  She looks exactly like her picture. She’s got to be almost six feet tall, probably something like a size double-zero, her long blonde hair is perfectly curled with not a strand out of place and her skin would make a porcelain doll jealous. I’d say she’d be perfect as the face of the company if it wasn’t for the Jessica Rabbit dress she’s wearing, with cleavage falling out of the top and a slit cut up to her hip on the right side.

  “Are you Esmeralda?”

  “No…” I reach out and shake her outstretched hand. “I mean yes, but I don’t go by Esmeralda, you can call me Emi.”

  “Emi, great. So, what kind of show are we going for here? So I know what kind of character I’m playing.” She flips her hair behind her shoulder and then puts her hands on her hips.

  “Character?” I ask, a tad confused. “It’s not really a show per se; but more of a two-minute commercial slot. We’re going to have you work the room and ask people about their New Year’s resolutions before getting a group shot of everyone shouting Happy Holidays.”

  “So…” She rolls her eyes as if it’s part of her profession. “You’re telling me that I’m doing a commercial?”

  “Yes?” I ask it as a question, unsure of what her father told her, and glance back at Morgan whose eyes are as wide as saucers. His stare bores through her barely-there dress, as if he is trying to use X-ray vision. Besides what he just showed me in the magazine, I’m not sure there is a lot more to see.

  “Ridiculous. I told Daddy that I could do so much more than this. I should not have ruined that contact with E! for my own show.”

  Morgan and I exchange glances wondering what planet this girl thinks she’s on. Not that I have any doubt, what-so-ever, that she’s perfect for the E! channel. She has that Kardashian vibe.

  “This will be fun,” I reassure her, hoping that the diva in her stays away long enough for me to shoot this commercial.

  “Whatever. Where’s the dressing room? I need to touch up my makeup.”

  A laugh suddenly escapes my throat, causing Morgan to start coughing to cover it up.

  “We don’t have an actual dressing room, but the bathroom is down the hall to the right and it’s really nice.” Her face stays stone-still and her eyes never leave my own. “I can show you? But in all honesty, you already look amazing.”

  That brings a small smile to her face.

  “I’ll take your word for it.” She flashes an obviously fake smile and glances around the room. “Who decorated this?” she suddenly asks. The decorators, caterers, and employees are still here, tirelessly working getting the place ready for the party that starts in less than an hour.

  I made sure it looked Christmassy since we are also shooting a commercial tonight. There are six eight-foot-tall Christmas trees around the room, fully decorated, loaded with fake presents. Garlands and twinkle lights hang from the ceiling, and the tables have centerpieces that would make a Christmas bride jealous. It’s truly gorgeous, and cost far more than I would ever, ever pay myself.

  “We hired a company,” I say, grabbing the list of questions I made up for her.

  “They did an OK job.” She glances over at the bartender. “I’m going to just grab a drink.”

  “Greta—” I rush to her side, hoping getting trashed is not on her agenda. “I actually have a list of questions I need you to look over.”

  “I already know what I’m going to ask.” She waves my paper away and beelines to the bar.

  Five minute ago she asked what character she needed to play and yet suddenly she’s prepared with questions she didn’t even know she had to ask? I find that more than hard to believe.

  “This is gonna be a nightmare.” Morgan stands at my side watching her sashay her tiny ass to the bar and immediately flirt with the bartender who seems mesmerized by the spell that is Greta Mayfair.

  “Hi, babe.” Jack leans in and kisses my cheek.

  He’s here right on time, but since I’m a tad pre-occupied with not bringing out the evil from within Greta I don’t even have a minute to spend with him like I’d planned.

  “I’m so sorry I have to work during this.”

  “It’s no problem. Did you get something to eat?” he asks me, being the great boyfriend that he is.

  “I haven’t. You should, though.” I’m starving, so knowing that I might not have time to eat, from the menu that I worked so hard to get perfect, is irritating to say the least.

  “I’ll bring you a plate. How about you?” he asks Morgan, who shrugs his shoulders before glancing at me for permission.

  “I can always eat.” Morgan is my favorite camera guy because he’s the most honest guy I’ve met. When you ask him a question you’d better really want the truthful answer, because he will give it to you.

  “I’ll be right back.” Jack heads in the direction of the buffet.

  “Greta.” I approach her at the bar. “We need to get started. Maybe just work the room and start asking questions about people’s New Year’s resolutions.”

  Greta glares at me. “What’sh your name again?” she slurs, almost knocking me over with the smell of liquor on her breath. I’d say she’s drank as much as possible as quickly as possible in the last thirty minutes, and is now the most flammable thing in the entire room.

  “Oh my God, she’s drunk. I am so getting fired,” I mumble. I don’t know why, it’s not like she’s sober enough to comprehend much. “Emi is my name. Do you think you can still do the commercial?”

  “Of course, I can, I’m a professional actress and model. Why would you even ask that?” She stands, stumbling just a bit on her stripper heels. “You worry about the cameras and I’ll do the rest.”

  “Perfect,” I say, hoping she’s too drunk to notice the condescending tone in my voice. I turn to Morgan who starts filming. “Just start following her around I guess.”

  “This is going to be epic.”

  I glare at him. “Stop. It’s going to be fine.” I hope. If nothing else, at least we’ll have a potential viral video on our hands.

  Morgan and I follow Greta halfway around the room and film her asking a few people some questions that she doesn’t slur through. She’s obviously got experience keeping her cool on camera when wasted. I’m sure she’d make any reality TV station a fortune. The tabloids would eat her up.

  “Oh!” she yells and turns towards
me. “I found a co-shtar.” She points towards the table where Jack is setting plates. “He ish…delishish.”

  There are a few too many shs in her words for me to deny the fact that she’s completely lit. And now she’s after my boyfriend.

  “What? No, he’s my fiancé. He doesn’t want to be in the commercial.”

  “That’sh your fianshé? No way?!” Her emphasis on your makes my skin crawl. Why would she be so surprised that Jack is with me?

  “Come on.” She prances across the room, hardly even wobbling on her platform heels. Her drunken strut is nowhere near as clumsy as mine would be.

  Morgan and I follow her across the room, which seems to be at the speed of a moderate jog. I motion to Morgan to stop filming and he wastes no time setting down the camera and grabbing the plate of food Jack got for him.

  “Hey, Ems.”

  “You. Are. Beautiful.” Greta pulls Jack against her and breathes into his ear.

  “I, uh—” he looks over at me, eyes widened, a stunned look on his face.

  “I’m so sorry, Jack, this is Aron’s daughter, Greta. She’s supposed to be my host for the commercial we’re trying to shoot.”

  “Oh.” He kindly reaches back and removes her hand from his ass before putting both his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away from him. “Nice to meet you, Greta.”

  I bite my bottom lip hard to keep from completely losing it at his disgusted face. From the looks of it you’d think Greta has some kind of infectious disease that Jack is trying to keep away from. I’m sure there’s an STD or three floating around areas I’d rather not picture.

  “Yhou are perfffect, we ssshould do thish together.” Her drunkenness is really starting to show now. The extra sounds within her words are becoming more and more exaggerated.

  Out of the corner of my eye I notice Aron is heading in our direction. Shit.

  “Greta, your dad is coming.” Why can’t he mingle instead of choosing now to check on how his star of a daughter is coming along in her performance?

  She immediately straightens up and loops her arm through Jack’s, holding onto his elbow as if he was walking her down the aisle. Or maybe she’s just using him as a stabilizer in case she loses her balance. “Daddy, have you met my date?”