What started out as a wonderful evening quickly evolved into the most humiliating night of her entire life.
“Are you alright, Miss...?” he said, still clutching her hand while dabbing at the champagne that blotted his crisp white linen shirt.
She could only nod in response.
“Let me get you another drink...”
“No, no, no,” Maxine protested at last, her voice barely audible between the ambient noise and her own weakness that seemed to shrink further with each passing second. “I was just—leaving, actually.”
She completely missed his quizzical look of disappointment as she dropped her head. Oh, she hoped Jillian didn’t see her major epic fail!
However, he hadn’t yet released her hand as he reached around to the small of her back to steady her while she continued to stare at the stain of champagne upon his fine oxford shirt. Little did he realize that his touch only exacerbated her anxieties.
She truly thought she could feel the bile rising in her throat. Oh, no one of major importance planned to attend this party…said Jillian. Just Drew McKenzie. On whom Maxine just so delicately spilled an entire flute of champagne.
Immediately, as she found her sea legs, Maxine conjured her mother's image in her mind. Judy was probably sitting at the big bar in the sky, sipping a Bloody Mary and laughing at her only child's latest foible. All the while she'd curse Maxine for refusing to learn how to walk in a pair of heels. One thing that Judy attempted in vain to teach her daughter was poise, but Maxine sort of gave up on any hopes of being graceful around the age of seven with a clumsy attempt at ballet lessons. She had more than her fair share of skinned knees, sprained ankles and various other bumps and bruises along the way, and Maxine always thought that high-heeled shoes only added to her woes.
Naturally, she couldn’t have just tripped on some random party-goer. Of course, she had to crash right into her greatest crush. The high drama of her life wouldn’t have permitted this scenario to play out in any other manner. Now she couldn't even form a rational thought with him standing so close in that khaki Burberry suit with the tight-fitting trousers and perfectly proportioned jacket. Chagrined and stunned, she refused to look into those pools of blue eyes that minded her with a look she couldn't quite read.
“I am…oh, I am so sorry!” She repeated herself as she patted her hand against that thick muscular chest that she'd always dreamed of touching, but certainly not like this! A cocktail napkin would have been a great help. However, she neglected to grab one from the bar.
“Don’t worry, Miss…” he attempted to soothe her—and to ignore her all too fevered efforts to clean him up. “It’s quite alright.”
“No, it's not, and I've ruined your shirt,” she said and took a step back. “Let me get some napkins…” No, she couldn't possibly try to blot away the stain of her gangly ways.
“Really, it's not necessary,” he said and placed his hand over hers.
“I apologize again,” she hurried, and jerked away with a suddenness that took him aback.
“But, Miss…?”
Before either one of them could blink, Maxine raced off to the small coat check on the other side of the wall, disappearing like Cinderella at midnight and panting all the while.
As she handed over her raincoat to the attendant, Maxine wondered if he could see the frustration upon her face. There was no way that she could go out there and socialize now. She'd made an ass of herself in front of Drew McKenzie. He'd likely have his curious eye on her the rest of the night, laughing inwardly at the hilarity of her clumsiness—if he didn't curse her to everyone for ruining his shirt.
But oh, she had a commitment to Jillian! She couldn’t just bail on her new boss.
In a weak effort to calm herself down, she decided to text Ben before she dared to make another appearance.
Gr8 nite already.
Spilled drink on DREW MCKENZIE!
H8 myself!
However, she wasn’t surprised when she saw Ben’s reply:
Drew’s there?
Go back and do it AGAIN!
First, she had to catch her breath, under which she cursed herself. Damn, damn, damn you Drew McKenzie!
With a stroke of luck, perhaps—she hoped—he'd continue on with his chivalrous ways and just ignore her entire presence the rest of the night. He had no reason to speak to her. She was just some kid who hadn't made her mark on the theatrical scene yet. For all he knew, she could have been a struggling actress.
Since she wasn't technically working that night, though, Maxine thought that maybe she could just chat with Jillian for a bit, and then beg her way to the exit with the excuse of a headache. She hated to lie, especially to her supervisor, but she just couldn't fathom being in the same room with that man right now.
However, just as she pulled in a quick whiff of vanilla scented air that wafted from the candles that lit up the room, she felt a catch in her chest, which heaved without control. Hiccups. Again.
Oh, this night had unraveled from the sublime to the ridiculous to the abysmal in a matter of minutes! The coat check attendant attempted to pretend as if he hadn’t noticed the loud and sudden squeaks escaping from her throat, but she could clearly see that his lips were fighting a smile. She had to do something; however, holding her breath did nothing to curtail her little problem. In fact, her little chirps only enhanced the already rosy color that already heated up to her pallid, porcelain skin.
Maxine was certain that everyone in that room could hear her those noisy, silly sounds leaping from her throat, even though the cacophony of conversations and the clink of crystal had grown increasingly louder with each passing minute. Since the room was filling up now, maybe she had a better shot at hiding from Drew McKenzie in plain sight!
Oh, you’re just being stupid, Maxine, she told herself. He’s forgotten you already. Don’t try to flatter yourself.
She held her breath, then caught it again, endeavoring to put a quick end to the madness. However, nothing seemed to control the spasms once they started. She had only hope to rely upon as her face began to turn blue.
Hiccups finally under control, she slapped on a smile and decided to make a break for it and find Jillian—only to discover how right she was.
Maxine was clearly the last woman on Drew's mind that night. She spotted him off in a remote corner of the penthouse, sipping champagne with the bubbly blonde actress, Michele Dumont, and ignoring the huge, drying stain on his shirt. His grin was broad as they chatted away, lost in their own little world, and Maxine just wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and pull it in after her.
Maybe a year older than Maxine, Michele had been the toast of Broadway two seasons ago with a featured role in one of those dreadful shows based on pop music that Maxine just loathed. Influenced completely by Judy, Maxine’s tastes in musicals were much more traditional, and she appreciated composers who produced original shows rather than culling together an artist’s songs that weren’t very good to begin with. Michele had lost out on Broadway’s most coveted prize, the Tony Award, and her career hadn’t progressed much further since the alarm rang loudly on her fifteen minutes of fame.
Perhaps Drew was commiserating with her about his recent flop on the boards, Maxine thought with a cackle. She could only hope that she wasn’t the topic of their animated conversation.
Turning her back, Maxine thought that as long as he was out of sight, he’d be out of mind, and she focused her attention on the bar once again. Stepping up, she’d ordered another flute of champagne, then readily gulped a second glass just as Jillian finally found her in the crowd.
“Where did you disappear to?”
“Oh, I had the hiccups…” Maxine flushed as she explained. It was the truth—she merely omitted the fact that she’d just dumped her drink on Drew McKenzie.
“Shit, I hate that,” Jillian giggled over her drink, a cheerful Cosmopolitan. “And I'm so damn loud when I have them! The entire city can hear me. Here, you need a refill…”
/>
Clearly, Jillian didn't realize that Maxine already downed two glasses of that bitter brut. She began to worry that she'd trip over her own two feet again before she made it to the lobby to hail a cab home. Not even the most expensive top shelf liquor could curb her jitters that night, however.
“Ha! Look over there…” Jillian whispered, nodding across the room in Drew’s direction.
It was nearly time for Maxine's headache to kick in. Now Jillian wanted to gossip about him.
“Michele’s been angling for a part in the twentieth anniversary revival of Sunset Boulevard, you know,” Jillian filled her in. Drew, of course, had the lead as Joe Gillis, and there was talk that he just might land his first Tony with the show. “I guess she's trying to create an ‘in' with Drew.”
“They seem rather…friendly, though…?” Maxine pressed her gently for the scoop.
“Oh, he’s nice to everyone,” Jillian said. “He’s Jeffrey’s best friend—you knew that, right?”
How Maxine wanted to take her fist and smack it against her head to give herself a headache. No, she didn’t realize that her teenage infatuation—who had filtered into her newly discovered adult lifetime—was pals with their boss.
“They were roommates in college—at Julliard, of all places. Jeffrey wanted to be an actor at one point. But he gave that up and fell into theatrical publicity instead,” Jillian explained. “We usually handle Drew’s press when he’s in a show or performs in cabaret.”
It was time to turn in her resignation, and she hadn’t even started yet! And damn Ben for cursing her, saying that she might work with that man one day.
“Yeah, I’ve seen him in a show or two…” Maxine said with what she hoped was an air of nonchalance. “You know, I think I’m going to step out on the terrace for a minute—get some air and take in that view.”
“Go right ahead,” Jillian said. “I may be heading home myself in a bit. This party is kind of dull tonight. I'll get you before I leave, and we can walk out together…”
Those were the kindest words to reach Maxine’s ears all day.
Eyes surveying the room, she spotted Drew off in another corner, chatting with another young lady—a brunette whom Maxine didn't recognize. Narrowing her focus, she wondered what they could be discussing as the woman batted her eyes and winked at him. Drew didn’t seem to mind. Such a flirt was he! Much to Maxine's disappointment, however, her infatuation flourished with these pangs of jealousy that were striking her from all sides.
Careful not to tread anywhere near Drew, she wove her way through the crowd, smiling and nodding, and was delighted to find the terrace empty on that rather chilly evening. She should have probably grabbed her raincoat, but Drew stood not far from the coat check with his new little friend.
Somehow, she had to wrap her thoughts around the possibility of working with Drew McKenzie. This job was far too important to her to screw up over her silly adulation for an actor. Of course, he dated—had girlfriends. He was a stunning man with a huge talent. Women wanted him. Perhaps, if she got to know him that sense of infatuation would fizzle. For the moment, however, she had to deal with her petty jealousies in seeing him with a bevy of women crowding around him.
As Maxine stepped outside, she allowed her thoughts to drift away for a bit as her eyes absorbed the scenery. There was nothing more glamorous than the New York skyline, so tall and proud but beautiful and alluring at the same time. As she strolled around in the chilly air, she could see the new Freedom Tower rising majestically from Lower Manhattan and the Empire State Building to the north. Mesmerized, she stood absolutely still, staring out into the night sky.
As she hovered above one of the biggest cities in the world, her thoughts fluttered back to the first time Judy brought her to the city. At ten years old, the second she stepped off the train, she knew that one day she'd call these streets home. There was something instinctual—almost innate—that prompted her to fall in love so fast and furiously. Beyond the skyscrapers, the limitless possibilities, a plethora of choices and the rapid pace that seemed to move quicker than the speed of lightening, she fell in love with the people.
Stereotypes of the jaded, angry New Yorker, she discovered, weren’t true at all. Perhaps people were quick to answer, and sometimes abrupt. However, no one ever led her in the wrong direction or ignored a request for a little assistance. In fact, most New Yorkers had so much pride in the city that they offered too much information. People loved to recommend their favorite spots—that little hole in the wall diner, the tiny shop on the corner, the best spot to watch the fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Furthermore, one could just be herself. Oddity was just the norm in the city, and a slightly dark, acerbic sense of humor was appreciated and embraced. People had to be able to laugh at themselves in a metropolis as big and as diverse as New York. There was a social circle for everyone—rich, poor and everyone in between. While the wealthy did have the upper hand, the will to survive and thrive exuded from nearly everyone. There was life everywhere—from the subway platform where a homeless man chose to seek shelter to the Park Avenue penthouse of a CEO on Wall Street.
That variety of everything—the food, the entertainment, the art and architecture—lured her in, but the citizens of New York invited her back again and again with open arms. And now, she was one of them…and there to stay.
So lost was she in her reverie, Maxine didn't hear the sliding door open or the methodical click of footsteps approaching her from behind. When that deep voice called out to her in the quietude, she shrieked, nearly jumping out of her skin with the sudden disturbance.
“Ever going to tell me your name, Miss…?”
So thankful that she had the terrace wall to lean against, Maxine spun around and waited for her heart to beat again. Perhaps it was the three glasses of champagne she’d guzzled, but she thought that she caught a slight pout in those penetrating blue eyes, playing her in the shadows.
“Why…” she barely breathed “…Mr. McKenzie…”
“Miss Kirk…” The sarcasm in his tone and his smile struck her already wounded ego rather harshly. However, before she could ask a single question, he continued on to explain. “Jillian told me who you are. And I’ve also heard that you’ve joined Jeffrey’s team.”
“I am so sorry for spilling my drink on you, Mr. McKen—”
“Uh-uh-uh…” He clucked his tongue and waved his index finger in dismay. “Call me Drew. And to hell with my shirt. I have an entire closet full of them.”
“But I—”
Before Maxine had the chance to make a quick break, he’d placed his hands on the railing—one on each side of her, essentially trapping her tiny self within the frame of his long muscular arms.
“I haven't had a chance to welcome you to New York yet,” he said, capturing and holding her emerald eyes in his smoldering stare.
Now her heart was beating again, thundering within her chest, but her legs wobbled beneath her. She had nothing to which she could cling to prevent herself from falling, except for his arms, but Maxine refused to touch him. Getting physical with him in any manner would be the sudden death of her, she knew for certain.
There was something so very different about Drew that evening—something a little dark, and maybe even fraying on the cusp of sinister—yet Maxine couldn't take her eyes off him. He wasn't the sweet, polite gentlemen she'd met at the stage door. There was a certain edge to him that she would never have imagined, yet she wanted nothing more than to reach out and rake her fingers through those blonde curls, and pull him closer and…
Stop it, Maxine, she warned herself.
Thoughts of Drew that she’d repressed for far too long had strong-armed their way to the forefront of her consciousness. Face on fire, she could feel the heat burning like a wildfire down her neck and across her chest. She was so thankful that it was dark. In spite of herself, however, she shivered.
“Are you cold, Maxine?” he asked, unbuttoning his jacket. “And I may call y
ou Maxine…”
That was no question. He’d relegated them to a first-name basis.
“I'm, uh…I'll be fine…once…I go…inside…” She couldn't think and had no idea what sort of a jumbled mess had just left her lips. “Just...if I can…I'll go to…”
“Why in such a rush to leave?” he said, effortlessly sliding his suit jacket, which hung well below her knees, over her arms then pushed up the sleeves. “Thought we could chat for a bit. Get to know each other a little. After all, you may be working on my upcoming show…”
“Your…show?” Maxine knew she was likely singing soprano to his tenor at that moment. How this man just flustered her to no end!
“A little revival of a musical called Sunset Boulevard,” he said with a trickle of amusement as if he just loved to watch her squirm.
“Oh…yeah…” she whispered. She knew that—word was all abuzz on all of the theater sites for months now—but there was something about the proximity of his presence that obliterated her ability to think with any clarity. Oddly, she thought that he might have sensed just that and was enjoying every second.
After straightening the lapels of his jacket for her, Drew returned his hands to the railing. He wasn’t about to allow her to escape so easily…and while Maxine’s initial thought was to flee, she was rather enjoying her tormenting captor. And she was wearing his jacket. She certainly couldn’t just run off with that.
“So you just moved to the city?” he asked.
“Just last night…” Those eyes, so true blue, locked her in their vise. She wasn’t about to go anywhere for the time being.
Drew raised an eyebrow. “Oh, wow—you really are a newbie, aren’t you?”
“Not so…been here…times…many…”
“You’re rather adorable stammering like that,” he observed. “Am I making you nervous?”
WEAKENED: The Manhattan Bound Series Book One Page 5
