by Debbie Civil
Chapter 21
Jake
The room is filled with immaculately dressed people that wear false smiles. We are at a charity ball for autism. These kinds of things are pointless to me. Why don’t these people donate large sums of money to the research organization? Then, the organization’s funds don’t have to be used to throw a ball for rich people. I feel suffocated in my black tux. But Jill excels in this kind of environment. She wears a pale pink ball gown with matching gloves. Her dress is so long that I can’t see her shoes. Her hair is up in some complicated hairdo that requires hair spray and pins. When her driver picked me up, I thought of Carmen. Of course, I always think of her.
“Jake, meet state Senator Thomas,” Jill says, her face filling with delight. Senator Thomas is an older man with chin- length silver hair. He’s in great shape though. There isn’t an ounce of fat on him. Jill’s arm is in the crook of my elbow, and we’re greeting people. The actual dinner didn’t start yet. I flinch as a photographer takes our picture. America’s Darling is photographed with the guy who punched Sharp Michaels. This is perfect. I tried not to look at the gossip sites. I really did try. But I wanted to know what Carmen was reading about me. Apparently, the story is that after the strip club incident, I was embarrassed and called Jill over for dinner so that we could talk about things. She comforted me, and our romance took off. Some bloggers criticized Jill for her choice of boyfriend. One particular headline read, “Say it isn’t so. America’s Darling goes for America’s Bad Boy.” After seeing that particular headline, I stopped researching. Carmen would know that me being a bad boy is ridiculous. She won’t even bother reading that article.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jake,” the senator says, his green eyes darkening for just a moment. He clearly doesn’t approve of Jill’s choice in boyfriend.
“Likewise,” I force myself to say. The words come out with a sharp edge. Jill confirms that by wincing.
“Jill, how are your studies?” the man inquires.
“Great. I’m graduating next year,” she brightly responds.
“Jake, what do you do for a living?” Nothing that’s any of your business.
“Accounting,” is all I give the old nosy man. He gets the hint because he doesn’t ask me any questions. The senator’s wife Ashley, who looks like she’s a year or so older than me effort slips into the conversation. Her dark brown eyes briefly flash with desire when she spots me. But she quickly masks it.
“Jake, what college did you go to?”
“Yale,” I respond, no warmth in my voice. Ashley smiles and touches my shoulder.
“Oh, don’t be shy. This must be your first charity ball. Tell me, Jake, what table are you sitting at?”
“Nineteen.”
“I will tell George to seat you with us. Senator Tore and his wife Nichole couldn’t make it. Their daughter Kim is in labor. I heard that she’s having twins. Isn’t that great?”
“Yes.” Jill, who had been standing there smiles brightly. Apparently, sitting with Ashley and her silver-haired husband is like hitting the jackpot. It’s too bad that I don’t feel the same. I glance around the room and see my Uncle talking to a few people by the door. My Aunt Marin is standing beside him, an elegant Asian beauty with long black hair. This gives me an idea.
“My Uncle James is here.” I whisper to Jill. “Can you go get him?” She nods and I release her arm, and she sashes over to the group.
“So Jake, what kind of firm to you work for?”
“A big one,” I respond, thinking that Ashley isn’t very smart. I just told her that I’m an accountant. I didn’t tell her who I was an accountant for. In her mind, I’m Mr. Money Bags, which isn’t entirely true. I have a few million because of a trust that my parents setup. But I’m not Donald Trump.
“Wow! You must be really smart,” she purrs before stepping closer to me. Her husband’s back is turned to us because he’s talking to a tall, bald, scrawny man. It’s clear that Ashley is with her husband for the money. She doesn’t even glance his way once.
“Jake,” my uncle says, when he walks over to us. The new arrivals get Senator Thomas’ attention. His wife plasters on a welcoming grin on her face when she spots my Aunt and uncle. Jill walks back to me, but I don’t take her arm just yet. Being close to her is still hard.
“Senator James, how are you?” he asks my uncle. And that’s how I get out of sitting near Ashley. Her husband immediately tells George, who turns out to be the event’s coordinator, to seat my Aunt and Uncle at his table. My Aunt gives me an approving look before she sits at her new table. Table Nineteen isn’t so bad. Since Jill’s parents couldn’t attend because they are in Washington, we sit with a group of Jill’s friends. I don’t talk to any of them. There’s no point in forging friendships because they aren’t going to be in my life for long. I spend my time people watching. Okay, that may sound strange, but there’s nothing else to do. The classical music playing is interesting enough, but it’s the stuff that I hear all of the time. I briefly wonder if we are going to be expected to waltz. I sure hope not. Dancing isn’t one of my strong suits.
“Ladies and Gentlemen please take your seats so that the evening may commence,” a tall, man with mousy brown hair says. He’s standing on the stage that is decorated in blue, which I guess is the color for autism. Everyone obeys the host, and the room gets so quiet, that the sounds of people breathing is starting to get annoying. And then the man bores us by talking about the events of the night. As if we can’t read the screen above the stage. Then, he presents speaker after speaker. Finally, he gets to the awards.
“The final award is going to be given to someone that is making a difference in the world. From a young age, this young lady has tried to help people with autism. She’s donated her time to after school programs. She’s both donated and raised money for this cause. It’s an honor to give the Shine award to Jillian Mace.” Neither of us expected her to win this award. She’s genuinely surprised. A tear rolls down her cheek and despite the fact that I barely know the girl, I’m proud to be sitting with her. She stands and elegantly makes her way to the stage. Photographers start snapping pictures of her as she stands under the spotlight. The man presents her with a black plaque with gold lettering on it. She receives it and the host gestures for her to take the microphone.
“I am humbled to accept this award. I never expected to receive such an honor, so I don’t have a speech prepared,” Jill begins. I try not to look at her because everyone at our table is reading my expression. I guess they want to figure out what I’m feeling. For that purpose, my face is blank. They aren’t going to read anything for me. “I just want to thank the Blackwood association for this honor. I also want to remind everyone that it isn’t just about donating a check. It’s still important to volunteer.” Everyone gives her a standing ovation. She smiles and walks off stage, lifting up the sides of her gown to ensure that she doesn’t trip over it. When she gets back to the table holding the plaque, one of her friends gives me a nudge. I know what I have to do. I stand and give her a hug. When we part, I see some flashes. Pretending to date “America’s Darling” is becoming a chore.
