“Hmm, I’ll go check the schedule for July and August.” She slinks off behind the bar to look at the schedule. I’m sure she’s finding just the right shifts to torture me. Anthony pops out from the office and does his usual dizzy run around the perimeter. He is always moving, never sitting still. He sees me out of the corner of his eye and comes speed walking over.
“Liv, you okay now?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply.
“Good, ‘cause I need a decent bartender to show these morons how to do it right.” He never was one to beat around the bush. They must be really bad for him to ask me to work over the summer. Brenda comes back with the schedule.
“I can use you Friday night closing and Saturday opening shift,” she offers, still looking down the schedule.
“Put her on Thursday nights too, the other girl sucks,” Anthony adds.
“Look, I just want a couple of days to keep busy.”
“So those three days are okay?” Brenda asks.
“They’re fine. Just don’t add any more, please.”
“Cool, thanks,” Anthony mumbles. And he’s off. I think that was the longest I’ve seen him stand still. Brenda looks over at me and smiles.
“So, this Thursday?” I ask.
“Yes, I’ll tell Amy that I’m switching her shift to days.” I’m sure she’ll be thrilled with that.
“Alright. Hey, do me a favor, can you order me a chicken sandwich? Mom is having a breakdown, and I can’t deal with it today.” She nods her head knowing exactly what I mean and goes into the kitchen. I walk around to the other side of the bar and pour myself a Diet Coke.
She comes back with my sandwich. “Wow that was fast.”
“It’s dead, the cooks are bored.” She pours herself a soda and sits down next to me. “So did Mr. Moneybags ever come back?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad, he was hot.”
“I know. I wonder what happened.”
“Who knows? Maybe he had to go back to work for some rich man emergency.”
“Whatever. If it’s meant to be I’ll see him again.”
I arrive at work Thursday to a relatively full bar. It’s a wood bar shaped in a U. Twenty people can sit comfortably almost all the way around. There is a small service bar area where the servers pick up the drinks for their tables toward the back on the right hand side of the bar. I glance around and notice that every barstool is taken.
I walk around to get my bearings back. I haven’t been here in almost a month. I have to reprimand the day bartender since there’s nothing stocked up. Anthony’s right, they need to be schooled. I check in with my barguests as Amy restocks beer and glassware. She takes her tips and leaves. I can see the look of relief on some of my regulars faces. I make idle chit chat with some that I haven’t seen since before school ended.
The restaurant starts to get full so I wind up over at the service bar more than I care to. It keeps me busy, and the night is flying by.
It finally starts to slow down. The bar is maybe a quarter full as most of the dinner crowd has gone home. I straighten out the bar top picking up empties and wiping down the top. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone walking toward the bar. I lift my head up and my heart nearly jumps out of my mouth. It’s Chase. He’s dressed in a dark blue tailored Tom Ford suit with a white shirt and blue striped tie. He looks delicious.
“Hello, beautiful,” he croons, his voice warm and serene. I’m in shock. He cocks his head to one side, trying to hide a smile. I continue cleaning the bar trying to ignore him. I’m failing. “You’re mad, I know. I’m sorry, it was unavoidable,” he says. Apology is written in those gorgeous blue eyes. I sigh. I can’t be mad, can I?
“Maybe a little,” I admit.
“I promise I will make it up to you.”
Wait a minute. How did he find me?
“How did you know where I work?” I ask feeling a little hostile.
“You told me, the day we played pool,” he reminds.
“Oh, that’s right.” That was an interesting evening.
“I went back to your cottage yesterday, but there was someone else there. They told me you came home early.”
“I was bored.”
“Bored?”
I shrug my shoulders. “There was no one left to play with.”
“I came here to leave you a message and here you are.” His seductive murmur is working on me. “I thought you take the summers off?” He scans the bar area.
“Normally I do, but I needed something to keep me busy. Keep my mind off things. Plus, now that I’m done with school, I need the money.”
“I see.” His tone is clipped. His mood visibly shifts. “So this is where you work?”
“Yes, why?”
“I don’t know. I pictured it different,” he says.
“Different how?”
“Less tacky for one thing,” he mutters under his breath.
“What?” Did I just hear what I think I heard?
“It doesn’t matter.” He walks over to a bar stool and sits down.
“Would you like something?” My tone drips sweetness.
“Do you have any single malt scotches?”
“I have a few, do you have a preference?”
“Do you have Glenfiddich?” His voice is deceptively soft.
“The twelve year or thirty?” I whisper back.
“The thirty. On the rocks please.”
I grab a rocks glass and fill it with ice. I have to reach up for the thirty year. All of the expensive and rarely used bottles are kept on the top shelf. I pour his drink and give it to him. I check on my other guests and make sure they have what they need. I drop a few checks and now it’s down to just Chase and me.
“What are you doing on Saturday?” he asks, his expression guarded.
“I’m working during the day then I don’t know. Why?”
“My father throws an annual party for our biggest investors as a thank you, and I want you to accompany me.”
Wait, what?!
“Um . . . I don’t . . . um.” I can’t string a sentence together. I find myself wiping the same spot on the bar top over and over again.
“These parties are pretty boring, but you would make it fun.” He places his elbows on the bar and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. He gives me a slow please-come-with-me smile. I keep cleaning, trying to divert my attention from his perfect mouth.
“I have nothing to wear.” He frowns, running his fingers through his hair. His head snaps up like he has an epiphany.
“So, we’ll go shopping.” I can see his excitement growing. “I can help you pick something out.”
“I have to work tomorrow and Saturday morning, I don’t have time.” I say slightly exacerbated. I can’t imagine shopping with him, it would cost me a month’s worth of tips to afford anything he would suggest.
“I’m sure you have something at home,” he says trying to reassure me. “Although, it is a black tie affair.” Crap, I have nothing. Even if I had time to shop, I don’t have the extra cash.
“No, I don’t think so.”
He regards me for a moment, his eyes speculative. “We’ll work something out. I’ll have a car pick you up at your house around six.” He sounds definitive.
“You know where I live?” I ask.
“No, I was hoping to get your address.”
I think about it for a moment, contemplating my decision. He makes an adorable sad puppy dog face. I can’t say no to that face, so I cave and write it down on a piece of paper. Maybe Brenda has a dress I can borrow.
As I hand him my address he grabs my hand. Bringing it up to his lips, he lingers for a second then kisses the back side. His touch wakes every nerve ending in my body. His deep blue eyes locking with mine, I feel as if he’s looking into my soul. Just that one smoldering hot look gives my libido a wakeup call.
Releasing his hand, I shake my head to get my thoughts out of the gutter and get back to work.
As I continue to clean the bar, getting ready to close for the evening, he sits and quietly sips on his thirty-year-old scotch. I wouldn’t have pictured him as a scotch drinker, but I don’t know him well. I weigh the options of going with him in my head. I won’t fit in at a black tie affair, that’s for sure. I will definitely feel intimidated. On the other hand, I’ll be spending time with Chase. Seeing him here has me feeling emotions I didn’t even know I had.
Chase rises and leans over the bar. “I will see you on Saturday,” he murmurs, his eyes warm and soft. He nips my earlobe then turns on his heel and leaves. Christ, I am like a giant bowl of jelly. If he gets me alone, I will say yes to anything he asks.
I walk around the other side of the bar to fix the stools and wipe down the bar top. It is then that I realize that he left not one, but two hundred dollar bills under his glass. His drink was only fifteen dollars. Damn him! I turn to see if I can catch him in the parking lot, but he is long gone. Sneaky bastard. I wonder if this is his way of funding my way to his father’s party. I wonder what his reaction will be when I give him the money back.
I get home from work on Friday to find a large package in my bedroom. My mom must have left it there for me. I haven’t ordered anything, and I don’t think my mom ordered anything either. She is nowhere to be found for me to ask her. I read the return address on the label. It’s from Bergdorf Goodman in Manhattan. Oh crap.
I carefully open the box to find a long black evening gown. I look at the label. Good fucking Lord! It’s a Michael Kors dress. I’m sure it must have cost a fortune. It has an asymmetrical neckline and gathered bodice. It feels soft since it’s made of black jersey. I look at the size. How did he know my size?
Underneath the dress is a pair of black patent leather Jimmy Choo open toe sandals that wrap around the ankle with curvaceous straps. The heel is at least three inches. How did he know my shoe size? I flop down on the bed in shock. I guess I don’t need to borrow a dress from Brenda after all.
This is just over the top. He couldn’t get me a plain black dress or a normal pair of heels. No. He had to go all out and buy one of the most expensive dresses in the store. Chase is totally out of his bird.
I hold the dress up to myself in front of my full length mirror. It’s gorgeous. I decide to try it on for shits and giggles. I put the shoes on first, then I slip the dress on and manage to zipper the back. Perfection. I feel like a movie star about to walk the red carpet. I am tempted to go on the internet and see how much all this extravagance costs, but I really don’t want to know.
Chase must really want me to go to this party with him. Why else would he spend the time to pick out the outfit and send the box to me? Not accepting the gifts would be rude, right? My brain is saying don’t do it, you’ll get hurt. My libido has other ideas. I take off the shoes and hang the dress in the closet. I thank my lucky stars that I have the undergarments to wear since I don’t have time to shop. Hopefully, Chase will get to see them.
I rush home from work on Saturday so I can take a shower and do my hair. The restaurant was slow today, and I left early. I run into the house and jump into the shower to start to primp.
Once out of the shower, I take a long look in the mirror. My hair is so curly it’s hard to do anything with it. I decide to straighten it. I grab the blow dryer and start to run my large round brush through my long hair. It takes almost an hour to straighten it, but today I manage in forty-five minutes. I look at the clock. It’s almost five thirty so I have half an hour before Chase is picking me up.
I pick out a sexy balconet bra from Victoria’s Secret with a matching pair of panties. Since the dress has a slit on the right side, I choose to wear thigh highs and need to fish out the matching lace garter belt.
I dress and walk over to my full-length mirror. The slim fitted silhouette of the dress eases past my hips and shows off my curves. The gown is spectacular. My hair falls in soft waves down my back and my shoulders. I consider putting it up, but since I rarely wear it down, decide against it. Makeup is minimal since I don’t wear much, so I keep it light. Eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, and lip gloss.
Walking downstairs in these capacious heels is dicey. I feel an entire foot taller. I could get a nosebleed up here. I walk into the kitchen to find my mother staring open mouthed at me.
“Wow,” she exclaims. “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Where did you get that dress? And those shoes? My goodness, look how tall you are.”
“I was invited to a dinner party and was gifted these,” I say.
“Who invited you?” She is suspicious.
“His name is Chase Remington, and this is a date.”
“A date! You just broke up with Evan, and you’re already going out on a date?” Her voice is raised. I’m thankful I don’t have time for the inquisition. She’s about to say something else when the doorbell rings. She goes to answer the door and leaves me standing in the kitchen.
At the door is a well dressed older gentleman. “I’m looking for Olivia Barrett,” he announces. I walk over toward the door.
“I’m Olivia,” I say.
“My name is Charles. I’ll be your driver this evening.” He extends a hand, which I shake.
“Thank you.” Wow. I turn toward my mom. “I’ll see you later Mom, don’t wait up.” She still looks disconcerted but gives me a small wave. I grab my keys and my purse and stroll out the door to the waiting limousine. The driver rushes in front of me so he can open the door. I get inside, holding my dress making sure I don’t catch it on anything. Inside the car is a note. It’s attached to a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.
Enjoy.
The drive takes longer than I thought it would, although I have no idea where we’re going. I take a sip of champagne. Yes, this is the way to travel. We are on the Long Island Expressway heading toward Manhattan. The traffic is light. Charles gets off on Queens Boulevard so I have a feeling we’re going over the 59th Street Bridge. As he maneuvers through the traffic and makes his way onto the bridge, I sit back and enjoy my champagne.
Once over the bridge, he turns onto 61st Street and heads toward Central Park. Makes a left onto Fifth Avenue, continues for another three blocks, and stops on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 59th Street.
I am not too familiar with the city. I come here maybe once a year in December to see the Rockefeller Center tree, so I know that we are somewhere near FAO Schwartz. He gets out, comes around, and opens my door. He extends his hand to help me out of the car, which I appreciate. Maneuvering in these heels is going to be tricky. Once on the sidewalk, he leads me to my final destination.
We arrive at a beautiful old French Gothic building that must have been here since the early nineteen hundreds. It’s located directly across the park near the Grand Army Plaza where the Sherman Monument stands. There are huge bronze lanterns suspended from the mouths of large whimsical griffins attached to the building. There is a tall iron clock that stands in front of an awning that leads into the building. On the clock face, it says Shelly Netherlands.
There is a doorman standing at the entrance to welcome me. Upon entering the building, I catch a glimpse of the fantastic marble walls and bronze mounted fixtures with carved figures. It is stunning. There are French chairs flanking a marble top console table with a gilt mirror hanging above it. Just breathtaking.
In the lobby is a young impeccably dressed woman directing traffic. “Can I help you?” she asks with a smile.
“Yes, I’m looking for a black tie event,” I say.
“Ah, yes. The Remington affair. Please follow me.” She brings me through the lobby back toward the entrance where the revolving doors are located. On the right is a small brass plaque on a well-concealed door. The plaque has a double D on it. “You are looking for Doubles which is right behind this door,” she says with a smile. She opens the door. “Enjoy your evening.”
I take a deep breath so I don’t freak out. The nicest hotel I have ever been to is the Holid
ay Inn, and it pales in comparison. I am frozen to the floor, my feet refusing to move. Maybe this was a bad idea. No. Chase is down there, and I want to see him, feel him. I close my eyes and will my limbs to obey and make my way toward the awaiting door.
The door leads down a steep red fabric-lined stairway. The top half of the walls are red on red stripes with the bottom half being dark mahogany. The pattern of the rug going down toward the bottom makes me dizzy. I make my way down the stairs, gripping the banister for dear life for fear of breaking my neck. Damn these shoes!
At the end of the stairs are two women in matching long black dresses handing out fine crystal topped with champagne on a fancy silver tray. I graciously pick up a glass and take a welcoming sip.
Once in the club, everything is red. The rug has a red and white square pattern flowing into dark red walls. The ceiling has a chic design in different shades of red. There are red leather couches and chairs. The entrance and exit doors to the kitchen are red leather.
The bar has high back stools in red satin stripes. The back of the bar has multiple mirrors separated with stripes of white. The bottom of the bar is red leather with squares and rectangles designed from brass tacks. What a difference from upstairs to here. Aside from it being dark, it’s tres chic and much more modern than the hotel.
I wander into the dining area where the dance floor is. There is an orchestra set up on the other side playing a tune I actually know. It’s an orchestral cover of INXS!
Gilded dining chairs surround large round numbered tables. The tablecloths are a fancy embroidered green fabric with elaborate place settings, silver cutlery, and so many different crystal glasses I can’t count. Huge centerpieces tower over the tables with orchids and other white flowers cascading down and around the vase.
I look around the room at the hundreds of people sitting and standing. The men are all dapper in their tuxedoes and the women are decked, each dress more beautiful than the next, and all of them look like they could be models. I stand in the middle of the room immobile. I am so overwhelmed and way out of my league. I decide I need a drink if I’m going to be able to deal with this evening with any sanity.
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