Looking Real Good

by C. Morgan

  “Have you tried the Hilton? Or the Ritz?”

  “Both are booked.”

  Lisa pursed her lips thoughtfully and drummed her fingers on the armrest of her chair. “I might know a guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “Just a guy,” Lisa said dismissively. She leaned over to open her purse and pulled her phone out. She scrolled through her contact list and frowned at the screen.

  “Can he help us?” I asked

  Lisa nodded. “Yes.”

  I waited for her to dial, but she didn’t. So I smiled. “Lisa, you don’t have to call him. I’ll figure something out. I just need more time, is all.”

  “No, don’t be silly. I can help. Besides, he owes me.” She pressed dial and lifted the phone to her ear. Whoever she was calling answered on the third ring. I heard a deep male voice say Lisa’s name into the line. She looked down at her lap. “Hi, Stephen. Yes, I know it’s been a long time. I hate to do this to you but I was actually calling to cash in on that favor.”

  She was quiet for a minute as this man, Stephen, said something to her.

  I tried to look busy so she didn’t feel like I was listening to every word she said, even though that’s exactly what I was doing.

  “Look,” Lisa said. “I’m trying to get my hands on a venue for a fundraiser my brother is hosting. Yes, Lukas. Who else would I be talking about when I say my brother?”

  I tried to hide my smile. Whoever this guy was, I suspected there was a bit of history there.

  “Never mind,” Lisa said. “The point is we’re on a bit of a time crunch and we can’t get a ballroom anywhere. So I want yours. The Saturday after next. Six o’clock until, well, until whenever the night ends. Our guests are not the sort of people you can impose a curfew on.”

  He said something on the other line that sounded a lot to me like “absolutely not.”

  Lisa held up a finger to me. “You owe me, Stephen. Remember? And you know I’m not one to ask for help but you’re the only person I can go to right now.”

  He said something else that made her smile.

  “Yes, well, times have changed,” she said. “So are you going to give me the ballroom or do I need to go to someone else for help?”

  He started talking about price.

  Lisa shook her head. “I think you have the wrong idea, Stephen. I want it for free.”

  He didn’t like that. I heard his voice rise and he started giving Lisa a piece of his mind.

  She was unfazed. “I know it’s not ideal for you, but trust me. This event will bring people in. If you have any suites open, they’ll fill up, I promise. The press will be there. Your hotel will be featured as the beautiful backdrop of a spectacular evening for Seattle’s wealthiest citizens. Don’t tell me you can’t see the value in that.”

  A couple more exchanges were made before it came clear that Lisa was coming out on top. Eventually, Stephen caved, and Lisa secured the ballroom for free with a triumphant smile. “You’re a dear, Stephen. You have no idea how much this helps me out. Thank you so much.” She ended the call and dropped her phone back in her purse. She wiped her hands together like she was a gymnast who’d just performed an incredible feat and was now knocking chalk off her fingers and palms. “Piece of cake.”

  I eyed her suspiciously. “So who is Stephen?”

  “He’s the owner of the Hotel Monroe.”

  My eyes widened so much so that I thought they might pop right out of my skull. “The Monroe? Are you serious? We’re going to get the Monroe for the fundraiser?”

  Lisa beamed at me. “Sure are, babe.”

  “That’s the fanciest hotel in Seattle! And what, you say the right things and you’re able to swindle the ballroom for free on a Saturday night? How is that possible?”

  “Stephen—I mean Mr. Edmonds,” she amended, “owes me a favor. And I’m a hard woman to say no to.”

  “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about you knowing Stephen Edmonds?”

  Lisa shrugged. “He’s a bit of a jerk. I don’t like to bring him up in casual conversation. He’s just the sort of guy you keep in your back pocket for things like this. I got him out of a pretty bad PR scrape a couple of years back and he told me he would make it up to me when I needed help. This seemed like the right time to cash in on that.”

  I leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. “Is there more to this thing between you and Stephen than just you being his PR rep?”

  Lisa shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t like to talk about him because he’s not worth thinking about. Don’t get it twisted, Kayla. Sometimes, you keep people around because of what they can do for you. It’s just good business.”

  I let the matter lie. Clearly, Lisa didn’t want to talk about it. But letting it lie didn’t mean I wasn’t suspicious. Something had certainly happened between the pair. Whether it was just business or something more, I suspected I might never know.

  “Thank you for your help,” I said. “I felt like I was slamming my head against the wall trying to make something work. This is a huge load off my shoulders.”

  “My pleasure.” Lisa got to her feet and retrieved her sunglasses from her purse. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with. I have a lot of connections, so if you need hookups with caterers for a glamorous event like this, I’m your girl. I could probably swing some entertainment, as well as bartenders too. You are going to do a full-service bar, right?”

  “Of course,” I said smoothly.

  “Good. Make sure there’s a specialty cocktail or something. The rich love a fancy drink they can post to their socials. Branding is in the little things.”

  “Right. Specialty cocktails. Anything else?”

  Lisa shrugged and opened the office door. “I’m sure you have it under control. Email me what you have so far and I’ll start working on the marketing. I’ll contact the photographer from the farm and Rebecca Mills, too. No harm in having our own little media team snapping pictures and asking Lukas questions during the event.”

  “You’ll have it within the hour,” I promised.

  Lisa left and I dove back into work, feeling relieved that we at least had a venue but feeling equally overwhelmed at everything else I still had left to arrange.

  Chapter 21

  Lukas

  The Monroe ballroom was as beautiful as ever.

  I’d been to my fair share of weddings in this ballroom, all of which had been overdone, tacky, and obnoxious. But tonight?

  The place was perfect.

  The lights were dim and candles flickered on nearly every surface, creating a warm ambiance and inviting atmosphere. White plates sat on gold saucers, framed by gold cutlery upon burnt orange napkins. The centerpieces were elegant floral displays of rich fall colors: red, copper, gold, orange, and hints of yellow. The place had the feel of extravagance and minimalism all at once, and I knew immediately that Kayla had a hand in the decor.

  Had she hired someone, it would have been as over the top as usual.

  I stood in the entryway for a brief moment to get my bearings. There, across the ballroom, was the bar. Above it hung a long crystal chandelier which had been fed through with more floral arrangements that matched those on the tables, creating a woodsy aesthetic. The bar itself was elegantly appointed, and each and every stool in front of it was full.

  The night was already in full swing.

  The guests milled around in their best dresses and suits. Women walked arm in arm with their husbands, who stopped to discuss business with other men whose wives hung off their arms. The women would smile pleasantly but never open their mouths. Their heads would turn on swivels as they looked around and studied the crowd for familiar faces. Diamond earrings caught the light and glittered in competition with diamonds draped around necks and wrists and fingers.

  Peacocks, I thought morosely. They’re all damn peacocks.

  “I need a drink,” I concluded.

  I began making my way through the ballroom
toward the bar. On my way, I was stopped several times by the businessmen and their wives.

  “Mr. Holt,” a familiar and stout man with a bald head said, stepping in my path to the bar. “It’s good to see you, young man. How have you been?”

  “Doing well, sir,” I said. His name was lost on me. His eyes, friendly and brown, were familiar, but I could not recall how I knew him. “And you?”

  He ran a hand over his concealed belly beneath his suit jacket. “Quite well, quite well. This is a function and a half you have on your hands tonight. I must admit I’m a little surprised.

  “Surprised?” I asked.

  “Well, this hardly seems like your neck of the woods, son. A fundraiser? For a non-profit?” The man chuckled knowingly, and his brown eyes slid across the ballroom toward the stage on my left. “Perhaps there are other factors at play here?”

  I followed his gaze until I saw who he was looking at.

  Kayla.

  She stood up on the stage by the podium. She was speaking to a hotel employee in black pants and a crisp white suit. He was a young man, probably no more than twenty-four, and whatever she was saying to him was making him smile.

  She had a way of making everyone smile.

  The stage lighting shone down on her and lit her up like she herself was part of the ballroom decor.

  Her dress was simple and sleek. It was not like the gowns the other women at the gala wore. Where they wore puffy, sparkly, excessive dresses that needed to be picked up for them to walk, Kayla wore one that hung close to her body. It was silky and dark forest green. It looked familiar, but I must have been imagining it.

  As I watched her, I realized she seemed uncomfortable. This was not a familiar environment to her. She held herself stiffly, like she was anticipating something going wrong at any moment, and even though she was smiling at the hotel employee, her eyes continuously darted around the room, looking for where she might be needed.

  Then her gaze landed on me and she went rigid.

  A jolt of electricity rushed through me. My fingertips tingled with the force of it. She was so beautiful and so off limits it hurt.

  I gritted my teeth.

  “Yes,” the brown-eyed man said with a knowing smile. “Other factors indeed.”

  I grunted. “Sorry, sir. I was on my way to meet someone at the bar. Maybe we’ll run into each other again later.”

  He let me leave without any protest and I made a beeline to the bar, where I ordered a whiskey on the rocks. As soon as the drink was in my hand, I took a greedy sip, followed by another, until the sharp sting of wanting the girl I couldn’t have felt a little less sharp.

  Conversation rippled around me.

  “Did you hear about his daughter? Her husband has been having an affair for six years and she had no idea! Can you imagine?”

  “That’s his mistress in the red dress.”

  “She’s not even that pretty.”

  I kept my head down and tried not to get sucked into the gossip transpiring between the two young women at my end of the bar. They had their backs to me and were watching the herd of socialites like two hungry lionesses.

  “She must be so embarrassed.”

  “No wonder she hasn’t shown her face yet.”

  “Do you think her father knows?”

  “Do you think he cares?”

  I moved to the other end of the bar to ignore the petty conversation. Here, I found myself between an older couple waiting patiently for their drinks and two middle-aged businessmen, both of whom were leaning on the bar with their heads bowed together as they chuckled about something.

  “I didn’t want to come to this damn thing,” the taller of the two men said before he tipped his head back and drained the contents of his glass in a large gulp. “But the wife insisted. She claimed it would do us some good to put our money toward something that helps people. But you know what I think?”

  “What?” The second man was shorter than the first by about half a foot. He had an impressive moustache that concealed his entire upper lip and he looked like the sort of man who liked to smoke a cigar at the end of a long day in a quiet room by the fire.

  “I think these people we’re supposed to be helping have done this to their damn selves. How many chances did they get to make a better choice? How many people tried to help them get clean? How long do they expect the rest of us hardworking people to fund their existence?”

  Fund their existence?

  The shorter man snorted into his beer before taking a swig. “I’d say you’re onto something, Lewis. But watch your tongue in this place. There are softies about, trying to ease their conscience with their five-thousand-dollar plate and the raffle tickets.”

  “Ease their conscience.” The man named Lewis chuckled without humor. “What have they to ease their conscience over? Hard work means wealth, Ken. Plain and simple. You know it and I know it. We worked hard for our money and we’re expected to just give it away because we have a lot to go around? I didn’t work this hard to give thousands of dollars to drug addicts and ex-cons who—”

  I set my drink down hard on the bar.

  Lewis looked over his shoulder at me while Ken narrowed his eyes.

  “Something to say?” Lewis asked.

  I faced them directly and rested one elbow against the bar. “If you’re going to have such an ignorant conversation, I suggest you move to a dark corner where nobody can hear you making fools of yourselves.”

  People passing by paused as they heard my words.

  Lewis straightened. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” I said dryly. “If you didn’t want to be part of the event, you could have stayed home and let your wife come out and enjoy her evening. I’m sure she would have preferred you weren’t here, seeing as how you’re flapping your mouth, embarrassing yourself quite publicly.”

  Ken eyed me. “From where I’m standing, only one person here is making a fool of themselves, and that’s you, kid.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “You think the guy hosting the gala to raise money to feed starving children and their families is the one making a fool of himself?”

  It sounded douchey when it came out of my mouth, but I meant it. This was the equivalent of them calling Kayla an embarrassment in my eyes. She dedicated her life to helping these people, and asshats like these men were what stood in her way a lot of the time.

  I stepped closer to the two men. “You’re not better than anyone simply because you have more. You’re less than them if you have more and do nothing to help. When you reach the top, you’re supposed to turn around and help others find success, too.”

  Lewis laughed. “Great, a socialist.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “The poor are given every advantage to get ahead,” Lewis said. “They get tax breaks and benefits and financial assistance. But us? We have to work our asses off to keep our heads above water. Every time they get money, they snort it up their noses or inject it in their arms. They have nothing because they’re weak and lazy, not because they got the short end of the stick. Educate yourself, young man.”

  “Weak and lazy?” I asked sharply. My temper flared. My blood rushed in my ears.

  How dare these men call the people who were barely scraping by selfish and lazy? My mother had been anything but lazy when we lived in the apartment co-ops and survived by eating at soup kitchens or cashing in food stamps. My mother had a job. She worked her ass off. And these clowns probably spent the majority of their days on their yachts or with their feet up at their houses while their waitstaff did everything for them.

  I moved in close enough that I could have reached out and grabbed Lewis by the front of his jacket. “The only weak and lazy people I see are the people like you,” I seethed. “People who think they are owed their wealth and are entitled to keep it. You talk about how you’ve worked hard for your money. You’re full of shit, Lewis. You and I and everyone in this damn room know for a fact you inherited millions from your father when h
e died. And you know what you did with those millions?”

  Lewis backed up.

  “You blew it on women and cocaine,” I hissed.

  “Everybody calm down now,” Ken said, his voice thin with worry. “We were just talking. No need to make things personal.”

  “Oh, it’s fucking personal,” I said, never taking my eyes off Lewis. “I suggest you get your head out of your ass and go write a massive fucking check to Good Fellow’s. At least your wife will think for a brief moment that you’re a good man. Then you can walk yourself out of this ballroom and back to your car and get the hell out of here before I decide to take matters into my own hands and—”

  “Lukas,” a warm feminine voice cut me off.

  I looked down to my right shoulder and found Kayla smiling up at me. Her cheeks were rosy, and even though she was smiling, I could see worry in her eyes.

  “What are you three talking about?” she asked, her voice methodically controlled.

  “Nothing,” I said through clenched teeth. “The gentlemen were just leaving.”

  Lewis looked me up and down before breaking away from the bar with Ken hot on his heels. I watched them retrieve their wives in the crowd and make for the ballroom doors.

  Kayla cleared her throat. “I hardly think swearing at and attacking the guests is going to help us raise money. What was going on? What did they do?”

  “Come with me.”

  I grabbed Kayla’s hand and led her out of the ballroom. She didn’t try to pull away from me. She smiled at people we passed and promised we’d be back soon, but she had no idea where we were going. We broke through the ballroom doors, emerged in the lobby, and strode to the elevator. I jabbed the call button and waited. The doors slid open and we stepped inside.

  I pressed the button for the top floor.

  “Lukas, talk to me. Where are we going? Why were you so upset? Who were those—”