Chapter Seven
Mara
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
“Glad you came?” Lacey asks, practically shouting over the loud music and general nightclub cacophony.
“Sure,” I say with an enthusiastic nod. I want her to know that I appreciate her valiant efforts to revitalize my social status, even if the atmosphere is a little over the top for my taste. A nice quiet bar would have done just as well, but since Lacey’s occupation often gained her free cover to entertainment venues around the city, she’d picked the most upscale and obnoxious one for me to “show my feathers” as she put it. Like I’m some sort of exotic bird in mating season.
Lacey’s brow wrinkles in disappointment. “That doesn’t sound very sincere,” she says, taking a sip of her Tequila Sunrise through a straw. “Can you at least put a smile on your face? Honestly, girl, you could summon a snowstorm in July with that frosty mug of yours.”
I peel back my lips in a garish, exaggerated smile. “Is this better?” I say through gritted teeth. Lacey bursts out laughing, and my ventriloquist visage collapses as I join in. “This place is awesome, Lace. Thanks for bringing me; I’d have never set foot in such a classy joint without your intervention. It’s just been so long since I’ve had a night out, I guess I’ve forgotten how to enjoy myself.”
“You just need to loosen up. And the best way to do that is with another drink,” she says, signaling our server. She orders us another round, even though I’m only halfway through my Strawberry Mojito. I should take it easy. I still remember, at least the part when I regained consciousness, getting so “loosened up” at a frat party that I was sick for two days afterward. Booze and I did not as yet have a civilized relationship. “No more for me after this, Lace. You know how that ends, you were a witness.”
As the server scurries away with her empty glass, Lacey confronts me. “Just because it ended with you sleeping in a bathtub back then, doesn’t mean it has to happen that way now. You need more practice. How are you going to fit into big city life if you hang on to that over-the-hill-and-down-the-holler persona? You’re not in Kentucky anymore, Dorothy. Lose the coveralls and learn how to drink like a New York hooker in a pencil skirt.”
“Dorothy was from Kansas,” I correct her. “And I’m from Upstate New York. You make me sound like a hillbilly.”
Lacey grins and quirks her eyebrows upward. “Au contraire, a hillbilly you are not, my friend. If you were, you’d have been fucked over a hay bale by a couple of first cousins long before now.”
“That’s disgusting,” I say, wrinkling my nose, just as the server arrives with fresh drinks. I toss back what’s left in my glass to demonstrate my drinking skill, only to have the mint leaves slosh onto my upper lip. “Ugh.” I pass the tumbler to the server and wipe my lip with the back of my hand. Lacey laughs.
“Now that’s disgusting,” she comments, sliding the next one closer to me. “I’ll bet the hillbilly cousins could have taught you how to drink moonshine properly, along with how to have a little fun in the hay.”
“Why are you so obsessed with sex, Lace? I’ll get around to it when it’s right for me; when I meet the right person.”
“Waiting for Mr. Right, are we? Oh, please. Spare me the rainbows and unicorns. Just who do you think you’re going to meet hiding away in the basement of your non-paying job?” she says, glancing around the bar, presumably trawling for eligible males. “I can’t even remember the last time you were interested in a guy.”
I sip my drink carefully, hoping to make it last the rest of the evening, so my friend will quit plying me with booze and uncomfortable questions. She’s right. I’ve been so fixated on my studies and career I haven’t had time for guys. At least not the type we met in college. They were all just full of themselves, with their brains in their pants. “All Swedish, no finish,” as my Uncle Doug used to say. Except that he was referring to hockey when he said it.
“Well, there is someone I’m interested in...” I say cautiously. I probably shouldn’t tell Lacey a thing, knowing she’ll make a big hairy deal out of it; but maybe it will get her off my case.
Lacey sets down her second empty glass of the night. “Good God, I’ll alert the media. Who is it?”
I bow my head a little. “It’s embarrassing, really.”
“Aw c’mon, you can tell me.” Suddenly she changes tack and points a French-tipped fingernail at me. “Say, did you ever meet that gorgeous hunk of smoked sausage, the CEO guy who was in the paper? You’ve been on the job for two weeks now, right? You must have seen him in the hallways or something?”
Whew. Lacey’s like a sudden squall out at sea; changing direction with no warning. And somehow managing to triangulate right in on my thoughts. I look up to see her expectant expression, her pretty face framed by glowing blonde locks. I bet Bastian Kingsley would be interested in someone like her. Open and bubbly, broadcasting an easy lay.
“Uh, well...” I reply with a sheepish grin. “Actually, he’s the one I meant. I did meet him. Three times now to be exact.”
Lacey’s mouth forms a capital O. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so speechless.
“Mara Snow, you’ve been holding out on me,” she finally says. “When did this happen? What did he say? Is he as gorgeous up close and personal as he is in his pictures?”
I have to smile at her enthusiasm. I know she’s in my corner despite her sharp tongue and lewd jokes at my expense. She’s got my back no matter what. “As a matter of fact, he’s even more good looking in person. I was racing for the elevator, and he held the door for me. I didn’t know it was him until I stepped in.”
“And?” she asks, cycling her hands in a “more information” type of gesture.
“We introduced ourselves, and he reached over to straighten my collar. He has the most gorgeous brown eyes. When he looked at me, I felt hypnotized, like a mouse in the sights of a Cobra. I couldn’t look away, it was weird.”
“It’s chemical,” Lacey states. “The predator-prey response.”
I shake my head. “Whatever you call it, I thought my knees were going to give out. His hand brushed my cheek and—” I paused, swallowing hard. “It was like electricity flowed between us, Lace.”
Her eyes go wide listening to my tale. “I’ll bet. And this was only one time you met him? What about the others?”
I sigh and take a sip of my drink. It tastes better than the last one, for some reason. I skip over the incident outside the lab and move on to the latest encounter that I’m still trying to figure out. “Yesterday, I drove into the underground parking lot, and guess who happens to see me as I park Shirley, expelling her noxious fumes into the atmosphere?”
“No,” Lacey says, rolling her eyes in sympathetic embarrassment for me. “You’ve got to get rid of that thing, Mar.”
“I know, I know. But she’s all I’ve got. Mr. Kingsley comes up to me and asks why I don’t get a new car, and I say I can’t afford it as an unpaid intern. He acts as if he didn’t know that, and offers to find me some paid work, and... this is the bomb... says he might arrange to lease me a car from the corporate fleet.”
Lacey’s eyebrows practically disappear under the shadow of her blonde bangs. “Some paid work... what kind of work? Was he propositioning you?”
“Lacey! He was trying to be nice!” I say, indignant.
Lacey smiles and leans back in her chair. “Okay, if you say so. But it sounds to me like he wants more than your gratitude. Just think what he might offer if you made an effort to... run into him more often, if you know what I mean.”
I feel a burning sensation in my chest. She’s got this all wrong. I did nothing to encourage Bastian Kingsley into offering me a damn thing. “I would never do that, Lacey Strudwick, and you know it. You’ve got the monopoly on panty currency, not me.” Again, I’ve rendered her speechless. Twice in the same night. This has to be some kind of Guinness record.
But Lacey’s used to audience hecklers, and always has a comeback.
“I agree with that remark,” she says, toasting her glass to me. “Touché. But don’t knock it til you try it. It’s one commodity whose value never goes down. And I’m here to tell you that you should try spending a little of it on yourself. You’re missing out on a lot of serious fun locked away in that ivory, virgin tower of yours.”
As I try to formulate some sharp retort, two figures cast a shadow over our table. “Hello ladies, mind if we join you?” I look up to see a couple of twenty-something guys standing over us, clearly optimistic that Lacey and I will appreciate their company.
“By all means,” Lacey replies, our conversation forgotten in the face of ready male attention. I roll my eyes and paste a begrudging smile on my face. They’re not bad looking, and about our age. It makes sense that they’d be interested in a table of two unaccompanied females. We didn’t exactly post a “Do Not Disturb” sign over our heads.
“Thanks,” the taller, blond guy says. He looks like he could be Lacey’s older brother. “I’m Troy, and this is Adam,” he continues, gesturing to his friend who sports dark hair and one of those sexy-scruff beards.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Adam says.
“Likewise. I’m Mara,” I say with a polite nod.
“Have a seat,” Lacey says, clearly interested in having Troy take the chair next to hers. Who said opposites attract? They look like a brother-sister singing duo. Troy slips into the seat indicated, and Adam slides in next to me.
“Been here long?” Adam asks, making himself comfortable.
“Not really. We’re just enjoying a little girl talk. It’s been a long week.” I’m hoping he’ll take it as a hint that we’re not interested, but it seems Lacey has no such opinion as she talks animatedly with Troy.
“I’ll drink to that. Buy you another?” He points to my half-empty Mojito.
“Um, I’m good, thanks.”
“Aw, come on. The night is young. We were just about to order shots,” he says, gesturing to his friend. “Have one with us.”
I open my mouth to utter a “No, thank you,” but Adam is already tapping Troy on the arm with one hand. “Shots,” he reminds Troy.
“Right on, man. Join us?” Troy asks Lacey. She nods in acceptance, apparently for both of us. I heave a sigh of defeat and avert my eyes from the disaster-in-the-making at our table. If these two think they can pick us up for the price of a Tequila shot, they’ve got another thing coming. I scan the entire room as if fascinated by its architectural details, but stop short as I see two silhouettes seated at the main bar.
The woman sips a tall drink and seductively crosses her long legs as she converses with her date. The moody bar lighting illuminates her light-colored hair, but even in partial shadow I can tell she’s older than me, perhaps thirty-five or so. The man is also obscured by darkness, but there’s something familiar about that tailored suit and broad shoulders. He lifts his drink and looks out across the room in my direction. The angle is just enough for the overhead lamps to reveal his face, and I suck in a sharp breath.
It’s Bastian.
I swallow hard, willing myself to tear my eyes away but, somehow, I’m paralyzed. The woman reaches out and touches him on the thigh as he stretches casually on his barstool. A wave of something skitters over me. Who is she? Why is she allowed to touch him? Is she someone from the C-Suite? Are they a couple?
As I wrestle with my emotions, he lifts his gaze to meet my brazen stare. Busted! I quickly look away, flumes of heat spurting up my neck and onto my cheeks, like the Fountains of Bellagio. Oh. My. God. He saw me gawking at him like a mannerless idiot. Perhaps Lacey wasn’t far off the mark when she called me a hillbilly. All that’s missing is a trail of drool down my chin.