Chapter 4
The look on Crystal’s face is a picture as she spots the jet-black, open-topped Ferrari LaFerrari, my latest acquisition.
Jazzmene complained about it all the way here, worried the wind would mess up her hair, but I have a feeling Crystal isn’t bothered about such things, although I took the precaution of borrowing the hairbrush from her redhead friend as we left.
She claps with joy as she gets into the passenger side. “I can’t believe this is your car. I feel like I’ve landed in a James Bond film!”
Her happiness in contagious, and I have a sudden impulse to kiss her across the center console. What’s gotten into me? I settle for a bad Sean Connery accent. “My dear girl, there are some things that just aren’t done. Such as drinking Dom Perignon ‘53 above the temperature of 38 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s just as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs.”
She looks at me blankly.
“Goldfinger.” I think about it for a moment. “I guess you are a bit young for Sean Connery.”
She giggles at that and crosses her legs, derailing my thought process completely. Even without nylons, her long legs look stunning, and I have to resist the urge to put a hand on her thigh. I pull out of the parking lot before I do something stupid.
The Ferrari whines down the road at high speed as I rush for Mrs. Scaravelli’s; we’re a black streak on the black highway. Once we are on the straight, I take it up to 200 miles per hour just to show off. Crystal’s eyes are as wide as dinner plates as her hair flows behind her. Her smile is so broad, it looks like Christmas. Again, I feel that throb in my chest at making her smile, like it means something special. This woman does something strange to me. I shift in my seat, willing away the hard-on that’s threatening to distract me, and slow down to a relatively sedate 100mph.
I try to give Crystal a round-down of the people as we go, but she looks more frightened at the thought of the charity ball than at the race car. I can’t resist reaching over and squeezing her thigh. I tell myself it’s to reassure her, but my hard-on implies otherwise. She looks stunning, and I know she will have all eyes on her: her waitress friend has an eye for make-up and did a fantastic job of making her look the part. But Crystal’s not used to the jet-set scene, and I’m worried she’ll clam right up.
I give up on training her in NYC society politics in thirty minutes and instead try to keep it simple. “Our goal tonight is to loosen up Mrs. Scaravelli and work out what she wants.”
“What do you mean, what she wants? Is she’s asking you for something?”
“No, and that’s the problem. Everyone wants something. Everyone. What I want is a sign-off on waterfront land for development. Right now, my board thinks Scaravelli is our biggest barrier. She stands nothing to gain by signing off on the deal. I need to work out what I can offer her that will get her on-board.”
“You mean you want to bribe her?” Now Crystal is staring at me, horrified.
“Not as such.” But she has a point. “Well, maybe. It’s all just grease to keep the wheels turning. I mean, I’ve bought one thousand dollars tickets to the ball, after all, just to support her shelter. Is that a bribe?”
Her jaw drops open. “A thousand dollars?!”
The idea of a bribe is already forgotten. It’s great to see someone to whom money actually means something. But she’s going to have to stop the jaw-dropping at the party in public.
“It’s for a good cause,” I tell her. “Everyone there is paying one thousand dollars for the privilege of attending. It’s not a big deal.” I wave a dismissive hand at her, but she doesn’t look convinced. “So, don’t make a big deal of it.” It clearly is a big deal. “Or maybe don’t… just don’t talk about money.”
She nods, but now I’m feeling nervous. I know nothing about this woman, and here I am, taking her to the most important event of the month. If Scaravelli isn’t softened up, she can pull down the entire development deal.
“What if they can tell I’m just a waitress?”
I laugh, but she’s looking pale and nervous. “No one can tell. You just need to smile. When you smile, you light up the room.”
She gives me a funny look and stops asking questions.
As we pull through the gates, her eyes go wide again as she takes in the gardener’s cottage and the staff block. “Is this a hotel, or something?”
“Hah, no. It’s her private residence.” I point at the windmill as we drive past. “That’s a hundred years old and still works. It’s just had the sails refitted. She runs it on the weekends, maybe we can come see. It’s a fascinating project.” She gives me a sideline look, and I drop it. Some weekend? Like I’m going to keep taking her out? And like we would just drive around the countryside even if I did? I have no idea what made me say such a stupid thing, other than I like the feeling of impressing her.
We get to the front drive, but as I pull up, she reaches for the door handle. I make a warning sound, and she freezes just as the valet opens the door for her. She somehow spills out of the car as she tries to get out, and there’s a crowd of people rushing around her as she pulls herself out of the gravel. She looks mortified, and honestly, I’m a bit embarrassed, too. I could have brought Jazzmene if I wanted a woman who couldn’t walk! But I feel bad about the ungracious thought as I rush over to help her up. She’s shaking. I hold her close for a moment while she recovers.
She clings to me, clearly thrown by the fall. I like the touch of her hands on my arms, but I throw the thought out of my head. If she’s going to make it through the door, she’s going to need some confidence. I drop my hands to her waist and pull her even closer. There’s a floral scent to her hair, lavender, maybe. I need to focus.
“You are fine,” I whisper in her ear, inhaling her scent again. “You haven’t done anything wrong. The valet should have helped you out of the goddamn car. Just be confident. It’s not your fault.”
As pep talks go, it’s pretty weak, but it seems to have an effect. “It’s not right to blame him,” she says. She loosens her grip on me and throws her shoulders back as she steps away.
The valet is apologizing profusely and Crystal, bless her heart, throws him a broad smile. “That was totally my fault,” she says with a sidelong look in my direction. “Please don’t apologize. I’m fine.” She says it louder so everyone around us can hear her. “I’m fine.”
And she is, although I can see her fingers are still shaking a little bit. Shock, or fear? I don’t know but I take her hand in mine so that no one else can see. Her hand grips mine, and I can’t help but give a little squeeze. “You are magnificent,” I whisper.
“I forgot to warn you that I’m a total klutz,” she whispers back.
I can’t help but laugh and a moment later, she does, too. As the doorman opens the doors to let us in, I’m feeling confident that it is all going to be fine. With Crystal on my arm, it’s easy to feel like we can do anything.