by J D Worth
Smiling, I slide the drink back. “Please magically change that pink disaster into a Jack Daniels neat since I spy that bottle we both know you’re hiding.” I scan the rambunctious crowd. The CEOs and politicians are letting loose. It’s painful to watch how stiff they remain on the dance floor. Georgina’s numerous cousins and single friends are in another dimension. My eyes hurt as the dance floor lights bounce off the many shiny, sequined, and sparkling outfits. These desperate women are treating tonight as a dating show, vying for rich bachelors by attracting the most attention. Money can’t always buy taste or class. “Make that a double, please.”
“Sorry, ma’am, strict orders from the bride herself. I’m only allowed to serve the pink spritzers to the bridal party.” He grins at me again. Taking note of his nametag, I’d say Trent enjoys “playing” with the wealthy guests—just like Green Eyes.
“Trent, we both know how preposterous this reception is. I think you’ll agree with me here. There’s no need to hide Jack Daniels away like some simpleton Southern cousin. Let that poor man breathe preferably in my flute glass.” I grin at him. “I’m only an honorary part of the bridal party.”
“I like the sexy way you rasp my name, so I’ll give you a little tip.” He drops a neon magenta cherry into the champagne glass and shrugs. “Sorry, you’re only getting this drink order tonight, ma’am.”
“The cherry is a joke, correct?”
“Nope, these ‘Pink Blush’ cherries were specially ordered for the wedding. They’re from a company that supports breast cancer, which is the bride’s charity for this event. Jeez, haven’t you noticed all the pink? It’s no wonder Jack Daniels is hiding. We’re trapped inside a friggin’ Pepto-Bismol bottle.” He goes back to wiping glasses.
Splashes of pink spring up from every corner of the room. From the abundant rose floral arrangements, to drinks, to napkins, to candles and rose petals on the tables. Georgina went as far as coordinating the makeup. The room shrinks and waves of nausea crash over me. I brace against the bar. My fingernails scrap against the surface as I gasp for air. Bending down, I have to do a full countdown from fifty before I can lift my head up.
Wishing for laser vision, I glare at Georgina. I cannot believe she has the audacity to present breast cancer as a charitable cause for her wedding. I have been in deep denial all this time. I yank out my hundred-dollar insurance policy tucked between my breasts and unroll the bill before his unbelieving eyes. I drop the large bill into the brandy snifter tip jar. Pushing the air through my teeth and keeping my voice in check, I say, “Please amend the order.”
“Only for you, but you didn’t get the JD from me.” His Southern twang lingers as he stares at my overflowing breasts. He dumps the pink spritzer and rinses the glass before adding Jack Daniels and passing back the flute.
“Thank you.” I sip the whiskey, closing my eyes while the flames burn all the way to my frosted pink toenails. I blow out a breath, catching my cool. The matching nail polish will be the next victim of the night once I return to my suite.
“Hey?” Trent grabs my attention by leaning far over the bar, gazing behind me. “Is that really the former president?” Astonished, he squints into the crowd.
“There are two here tonight. Do you mean the goofy gentleman on the dance floor or the older man sitting at that far table? The mayor of New York City is drinking Hennessy Paradis with the senators, and the Secret Service guys are the ones hovering around the corners of the room.”
“Mother … fucker.” Sneezing, he shoves his bandana at his nose as he steps back.
“They liked to be called Republicans, but you’re welcome to your own opinion.”
“Sorry, allergies.” He skims the crowd, looking for more recognizable faces. Unless he follows the business world, he has no idea how much money and power the men here represent.
I putter out an amused laugh. “My name is Ms. Daniels, and I’ll need more Jack the next time I stop by.”
Swaying forward, Trent smiles. “Which means you’ll have to come back to me. I’ll be more than happy to provide anything for you, Ms. Daniels.” He’s attractive and seems to be flirting with me. I don’t flirt to get my way, so I nod my head with a polite smile before departing.
Finding a safe spot in the shadows, I watch Chaz joking with fellow brokers. The loud microphone draws everyone’s attention to the center of the room with the first dance announcement. Chaz scans the spacious room until he spots me. Before pushing off from the wall, I down my drink and stow my glass behind a huge bouquet of pink roses. Out of tip money and no guarantee the same bartender will be on duty when I return, the glass may come in handy later if I need to serve myself.
“Baby.” The possessive nature of Chaz’s voice makes my dress feel more suffocating than it already is. He grips my hand, jerking us to the dance floor when other couples join in on the next dance. He calls me ‘baby’ once more, sending a whiff of how much he’s had to drink. So much that he reeks of a liquor store. He moves to kiss me and hits my cheek when I jolt away from him, stepping out of his grasp.
“Chaz, you’re here as a guest of my father’s, and I’m not here in the capacity of your girlfriend,” I reaffirm with both hands up. “Whatever bullshit you’re trying to pull won’t work on me!”
“Audrey, do you know how fucking lucky you are to be dancing with me right now?” He flings his arm out, indicating the bitchy bridesmaids glaring me down while waiting their turn. “Besides, your grandmother gave me her formal permission to date you when I asked. This is supposed to be our coming out party as a couple. She wants me to teach you how to have a good time.”
I’ve been waiting for this disclosure all night. In a firm and unwavering voice, I state my own wishes, “We need to part now so we don’t waste our time here. Why don’t you go chat up those bridesmaids you acquainted yourself with earlier? They’re eager for your company and ready to accommodate your needs.”
Lilith has given him the go ahead to pursue me. He has no reason to stop, not even after my expressed disapproval. Chaz is a true huntsman, and I’ve become his royal meal ticket to the top. All he has to do is return my speared heart to Lilith, and the wicked witch has won her battle of complete control over me. Departing, I ball my hands in tension.
I don’t get far when I bump into my father. His usual uptight business persona is lost. He has a carefree smile upon his face, and the sun has kissed his sharp cheekbones after a few rounds of golf. He has a tall lean frame honed from years of rigorous laps in our private rooftop pool. He likes to keep his conversations short, his scotch neat, and his brokerage firm a competitive monster, beating all the others at everything. I’m positive he dominated dodgeball as a child and was the only king of the mountain.
“Perfect timing, Audrey. Come dance with me.” A smooth smile covers his face as he spins us into a slow dance. His affectionate behavior is perplexing until Lilith announces the father-daughter dance. Beside us, Georgina dances with her father as she gazes up to him, making a nice show for the gathering crowd.
“I thought this dance was for the bride and her father. Aren’t we spoiling their special occasion?”
“Not when I wanted a dance with my own daughter.”
“We both know this is a first. How many times had I asked you to dance when I was little, and you told me you were too busy working the room?”
“You know Aster events are for business dealings.”
“Ah, just like using breast cancer as your wedding charity. Everything to you is a business deal, and you’re dancing with me because I’m your show pony.”
“You’re an Aster. You do what is expected. We all have our parts to play in this family, Audrey.”
I level my eyes to his. “Why bring up the connection to Mom at your wedding? You could’ve used any other charity in the world and still made the same generous statement.”
He throws a charming smile at the adoring crowd like a true dodgeball champ. “Why shouldn’t I?�
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“You’re playing off sentiments to boost your charitable cause.”
“Fifty million and counting. The number will only skyrocket once all the checks are tallied.”
“Ironic how you passed on the chance to give comfort to your dying wife.”
“Sentiments don’t cure cancer, Audrey.”
“You’re discussing the disease, not the person affected.”
“Morphine is what gave your mother comfort in her final hours. Therefore, we are discussing medicine. No matter how hard you try, you can’t hug cancer away. The donations will go far to help find a cure. Aster Holdings is entering into a corporate partnership with the Susan G. Komen Foundation.”
“No better way than to use your wedding and new wife as the launching pad. To make matters worse, you let Georgina stamp a pink bow all over your wedding, leading her to believe she’s helping with this cause. All to garner the favor of women investors. Sly as usual, William. Pass go and collect your fifty million dollars. The world is just a big monopolizing money game, right?”
“Georgina is helping with the cause. She’ll be taking over fundraising efforts.”
“Did you ever think to ask me to handle those responsibilities? I personally know the devastating impact of breast cancer.”
“Just because you lost your mother to breast cancer does not mean you own a monopoly on the pain of her death.”
I pitch my head back as he throws a hard ball right at my face. “You showed no emotion whatsoever at her funeral or long after. I was left to my own devices, stumbling over my grief.”
“We all stumble in different ways, Audrey. No matter what you think, I loved your mother. I was lost without her and dove hard into my work. That is until I got a second chance. Nothing will come between us.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. William actually sounds like a lovesick teenager. I snap my neck over to Georgina as he extends his hand to her for the next dance. My father steps away, sweeping her into a swoon-worthy romantic dance. The crowd cheers them on.
Chaz looms across from me on the dance floor. His phone lights up, and he latches his eyes to the incoming text. Disappearing from his sightline, I squeeze into a large circle of wives of the firm’s senior players. The women yap like little happy dogs, planning their spa activities for their unexpected weeklong stay at the resort. This is beyond generous for William who is rewarding their husbands for a colossal uptake in second quarter earnings.
While keeping a watchful eye on Chaz, I slacken my ridged posture when he scans the reception and fails to find me. He’ll double down when I return to the city. Lilith will pair us up at every function from this point on. Believing I’ve left again, he moves on to charming the same bridesmaids as before. They make a show of enjoying his company by giggling at his every word while their voluptuous implants capture his fandom.
Carefree laughter draws my attention to the bar. Downing an amber shot, Green Eyes has joined the young bartender. Trent pours another before sliding the famous black label bottle over to him. The bottle disappears inside his suit jacket. Fucking Neanderthals!
I retrieve my champagne glass before reaching the bar. Time for Green Eyes to bump into me as he hoards my only form of relief. I corner the grifter, blocking his escape. He hovers in the shadowed background, hiding his deceit. His body shifts towards me as he stands straight up.
“It’s ’bout time you showed up for that breather, Princess. I mean a real friggin’ breather too. Care for a drink?” Green Eyes says, unfazed by my close proximity or that our chests are touching again. The square bottle presses into my rib as I slide forward.
“Really? You just stole the only drink I want.” I fish out the hidden bottle in his suit jacket to pour myself a refill.
His large hand locks onto mine while I hold the bottle between the two of us. I freeze and stare at his massive chest, realizing just how intimidating he is. His broad shoulders threaten to undo the tight seams of his suit.
He releases my hand and swipes my glass, filling the flute with amber relief. “How come you aren’t drinking that pink shit, Princess? I heard the champagne is the finest ’round.” He keeps my drink hostage.
I glare at the bartender. “Mr. Pink already tried that maneuver. He was kind enough to add a charitable cherry for good measure.” I make a slicing motion to my neck. “Oh, by the way, your make-up is showing on your collar. It’s a shade too pink for your skin tone.”
Trent scrambles to glance at his collar. “Shit! That old broad was gonna fire me if I didn’t cover up my ink.” He eyes Lilith working the room as he adjusts his collar higher up his neck.
“That old broad happens to be my grandmother, which is exactly why I need many more sips to get through the evening. Yet, Mr. Pink gave away my bottle after I tipped him and told him I’d need a refill.”
Trent swears under his breath.
Green Eyes is quiet for a long moment as I hold my breath. The room spins around us. I’m stuck on a carousel, staring into his eyes, determining what shade of green comes the closest. The tiniest curl breaks at the corner of his mouth. Turning to Trent, he belts out, “Mr. Pink, you dirty dawg!” Trent tips his head down, hiding a laugh. Green Eyes takes his time gazing at me. The corner of his mouth curls tighter. “Damn, she’s the one who gave you that Benjamin.” Green Eyes shakes his head at me as his face brightens. “Unbelievable.”
Pointing to Georgina. “No, what is unbelievable is that floozy using breast cancer as her charitable cause. She doesn’t care my mother died from the disease, which makes these cherries an added insult.” I snatch the container of pink cherries and dump them into the trash beside Trent. “Do I act like someone who would drink that god-awful excuse for alcohol and swallow down her faux cause?” Trent sputters in laughter behind us. I sway back against the bar. Having captured his complete attention, Green Eyes relaxes beside me.
“I’m carting you back sooner than later, huh?”
“And no, I’m not drunk! I’m oxygen deprived. I can’t breathe in this damn dress. A lightheaded rant was bound to happen at least once tonight.”
Green Eyes cocks his head while roving the tight wedding party attire. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a square lover either, Princess.” I smile at his mention of the classic square bottle shape of my beloved Jack. I’m left unsure about his baffling “princess” connotation. His inflection is neither possessive nor insulting.
“Thanks, and I’m Ms. Daniels. Try to keep up, or I’ll have to bring back the sock puppets, Buttercup.” I swipe my glass back as he curls his lips.
“Child’s play. You did find Jack. Was he jumping over a candlestick, up a hill with Jill, or climbing a bean stalk?” His chest rattles with muted laughter. “See, I know my fairy tales.”
“No, Trent had him in witness protection. The pink wedding décor is a crime scene. It’s nice to see you have an expression other than intense and intimidating.”
“I have many.” His face darkens as his pupils dilate into black abysses. “Seems your cupcake withdrawals are kicking in.”
I tap my fingernail against the fine Waterford crystal flute, making a clinking noise. “No matter how many treats you steal tonight, you are not the Big Bad Wolf, and you don’t scare me.” Green Eyes smirks, watching me take a long draw of the whiskey. I close my eyes as the burn licks my stomach. A hum washes over me once my body comes alive. I open my eyes. Trent and Green Eyes are watching me with what I can only describe as reverence. “Good thing I tossed that pink gun in the trash. I’d use it on you now.”
He knocks the bottle against my crystal flute, making a clinking sound between us, and enjoys his own sip. “You need more sparkle in life, not less.”
“Is that why you were rifling through gift baskets and swiping a bottle of alcohol as if you’re a pirate at a wedding that you’re crashing? Clearly, you neither work security, nor wait staff. That is, unless this resort allows security to drink on the job, wear black
boots, and not shave for a week, which is doubtful. As for a personal handler, they never drink with clients, therefore, you fail on all accounts. Your friends work here, and you borrow their uniforms to help yourself to the open bar and fitness center. So, who are you? The local grifter charming his way through life?”
Trent guffaws while Green Eyes looks at me with the same slight curl of his lip as before.
“I could be with wait staff. I served you,” he rebuffs. It’s obvious I’m entertaining him with my temper tantrum.
“True. If you swipe my bottle again, I’m going to have to deal with my new stepmother in a sober state.” I point out Georgina who is prancing around like a Go-Go dancer. Trent is enjoying her actions too much for my comfort. Shielding my eyes, I suck back another sip.
