-6-
Hello
I’m going to catch serious hell for this, I think to myself after my outburst, knowing that most of these people are friends with my parents, and in twenty minutes I’m sure one if not five will have called them on vacation in the Bahamas and told them about my misstep. The youth screwing up decorum is what these old coots live for.
But seriously, she banged a gavel on glass. How dumb can you be? I’m sure I’m not the only one that wanted to bust a gut at such a ridiculous thing as Ann Marie Kelly.
Jagger looked like he wanted to.
Crap, Jagger.
I had no idea he was coming to this, and honestly, I don’t know why he’s here at all. If I had known, I would have made up a fantastic excuse about food poisoning or something of the like. Or maybe claimed morning sickness like my sister, who was supposed to be my date. But then that would raise a million more issues, and I can’t exactly afford them at the moment.
“Looks like the guy that’s been staring at me since we got here is finally making a move,” Hanna grins, giving the beautifully tan guy that was sitting next to Jagger a wave of her fingers as he approaches.
Don’t come over, don’t come over, don’t come over…
Jagger stands and joins his friend.
I thought he was going to let me go? I grumble to myself irately. So much for giving me my space.
His friend swaggers up to the table first, just me and Hanna sitting here now since the rest of the group went to bid on worthless things in the silent auction. He’s handsome with dark features, his hair slicked back with the sides shaved, eyes playful and flirty; a definite bad boy – just Hanna’s type.
“Good afternoon ladies,” he says casually, hands in his slack’s pockets as he stares at my friend, though he pretended like the question was aimed at the two of us.
“Good afternoon yourself,” she says, turning in her seat to face him better, smile in place. “What brings a being of the opposite sex to a charity such as this?” Her voice practically purrs, and I wish I was old enough to ingest alcohol.
“The stimulating environment, of course.” He smiles, and it’s easy, charming. The kind that sucks girls in like a moth to a flame.
Jagger steps up behind him.
“Hello,” I barely manage to squeak out, knowing I can’t ignore his presence like I’d like to. It’s just that every time I see him now, every time I hear his name, I’m always going to associate it with guilt. If not my own, then my father’s. Not a great feeling.
“Hello,” he returns with a small, amused smile. Unlike his friend’s, it’s not meant to be anything other than genuine. It helps to ease my anxiety. At least he doesn’t seem to have any ill will towards me. That or he’s doing a fantastic job of hiding it.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Ambrosio Nunez, and this is my friend, Jagger Wells,” the guy says, nodding to the man behind him.
Hanna smiles, putting out her hand to take his, and then the tall drink of water’s behind him, saying, “Nice to see you again, Jagger. Not as nauseating an environment this time, is it?”
He smirks. “No, but it’s a close second.”
I huff in agreement.
Another small smile.
“And you ladies would be?” Ambrosio asks.
“Oh, I’m Hanna, and this is Cyvil.” She motions to me, grinning like this is the best coincidence ever. I still haven’t told her or Sue about the deal yet, or what Jagger really is to me. I could tell they wanted to ask, but they let it go when they saw how much his presence bothered me. I have no idea why Hanna seems so happy to see him again.
“So you two have met before?” he asks, giving his friend a dagger filled look while his back is turned to Hanna, but I see it just fine from here. It would appear that he’s a little perturbed by her and Jagger’s friendliness
“Yeah, he came in to see Cyvil a few weeks ago at the shelter. Not a fan of animals, I distinctly remember.” She laughs, and Jagger’s skin goes slightly pale at the remembrance.
“I like them just fine, it’s the smell that comes with them I don’t enjoy,” he says seriously, and I try not to laugh. Again.
“So, where are you from? I think I’d remember a face like yours if we ran in the same circles.” Ambrosio lays it on thick now, trying to make up for her familiarity with Jagger, it would seem. He even angles his body so that it’s mostly hiding Jagger behind him.
Over his shoulder, we make eye contact, and his face says the same thing as mine. We both want to escape the flirting Olympics that are about to transpire. And since I’d rather have awkward silences and guilt attacks with Jagger than witness my friend trying to tag a rich boy, I go with it.
Standing, I say, “I’ll be back in a bit,” to Hanna, but I’m pretty sure it goes unheard, as she has her total attention on Lover Boy, now sitting down at the table with her.
That sure didn’t take long.
Resigning myself to the fact that I’m now a one woman show, I begin to head in the direction of the long tables at the back, though I have no desire to actually donate to a doll museum. Jagger follows behind me, silent but there. I have no idea why I can feel his presence so strongly when he’s around, especially considering I’ve only been in the same room as him a grand total of three times now. I try not to think about it.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” I admit once the silence grows awkward, as predicted, and I can’t ignore it any longer.
“I could say the same about you. You don’t strike me as the doll type.”
Touché.
We arrive at the first table, filled with baskets packed with things like candles and body scrubs, jams and jellies. Perfume and makeup. I walk up to each one, pretending like I’m interested, all while wondering what else we can small talk about other than our failed engagement.
“A signed copy of Why Neighbors Kill by Evangeline Parks,” Jagger mutters behind me, stopping at one of the literature themed baskets. He raises a dark brow at it. “Really?”
“If Ann Marie Kelly is your neighbor, I think we’d all understand why,” I whisper under my breath, watching her across the room as she chats it up with a poor woman whose eyes keep scanning the room, looking for someone to save her.
Somehow Jagger hears me, his shoulders jumping in silent laughter. His eyes smile at me. “You really don’t like her, do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t like her, it’s just that I don’t trust people that are so…happy. And for no reason.” I shiver, earning me another chuckle.
“If it makes you feel any better, Rosy thinks she’s on drugs.” He nods at Ann Marie and the trapped woman.
My eyes narrow on him. “Who’s Rosy?”
“Ambrosio,” he smirks. “That’s what we call him most of the time. He only uses his full title on girls he’s attempting to flirt with.” He shakes his head, looking back over his shoulder at the two still chatting it up at table eight.
“And I’m Sangmoon, Moon for short and friend number two,” a voice says from behind me, making me jump. I spin around to see who spoke, not having heard him approach.
A tall guy with crescent shaped eyes is smiling down at me, black hair brushed haphazardly on his head, as though he just rolled out of bed; brown eyes warm and welcoming as he waits for me to take his hand. I shake it once, his other hand occupied with a champagne flute. “You must be Cyvil,” he says, doing a great job of not focusing on my scars, but rather my eyes.
I like him already.
“Uh, yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Moon.” I give him a curious look, wondering how he knows me. And then I realize that just because I didn’t tell any of my friends about Jagger doesn’t mean he did the same.
“Pleasure is all mine,” he says with a smile, taking a sip of the golden liquid in his glass. He seems a little tipsy, standing there like a willow swaying in the breeze, eyes a touch glassy. Suddenly a phone rings nearby, the ringtone making my eyes widen in amusement. Justin Bieber’s “Baby” rings out across the quiet room, everyone turning their head to look for its source. Moon narrows his eyes, taking the phone out of his back pocket. “Damn it, Rosy did it again.” He excuses himself and goes to a corner to take the call. I smile curiously after him.
“What was that all about?” I ask Jagger, turning around and bumping into his chest. Was he standing so close the entire time?
He backs up a bit, looking embarrassed when he says, “He and Rosy constantly steal each other’s phones and change the ringer to the most ridiculous song they can find. For rich kids, they’re pretty good pick pockets.”
I try not to grin and fail. I shouldn’t be asking about his friends, diving deeper into his life. Actually, I shouldn’t be talking to him at all. And yet still I ask, “And you are immune to this tradition?”
He smiles. “I’m a better thief than they are.”
I don’t doubt it.
Ten minutes later, after browsing the rest of the tables in silence, Ann Marie announces that it’s time to close the auction and call the winners. Though most go back to their seats, a select few, including Jagger and his friend, who is still on the phone, linger at the back, watching on. Not exactly in a hurry to rejoin the Love Birds table, I decide to hang back as well. Besides, there were only six chairs at my table, and I don’t want to have to ask for someone to bring me another. I’ve already drawn enough attention to myself as it is.
As Ann Marie calls out names, excited little old ladies whooping in joy when theirs are called, Jagger says next to me, “So, how is rage against the parents going so far?”
I pause for a moment, my body freezing at his words. Normally I would take this as a cutting remark, but when I turn to look at him, there is an amused twist to his lips, letting me know he means nothing by it.
Still, it makes me feel bad. I don’t want him to think I’m just some teenager going through a rebellious stage. I’m trying to protect my future happiness, which right now doesn’t seem so happy. Not when it means my professional dreams are getting torn to ribbons in the name of finding a man who will actually love me for me one day.
“Not great,” I mutter with the glum thought, grabbing the glass of some kind of dark alcohol out of his hand that he ordered a while ago. Screw age limits.
I swish it back without much thought, my face cringing when the taste finally hits me, my throat burning with fire. “Gah, it tastes like diesel fuel,” I complain, pushing the empty glass back into his chest.
“It would appear you like to steal things, too.” He raises a brow, trying to look serious but failing miserably. His eyes scream that he finds me a joke, a fun oddity to laugh at.
Honestly, I’d rather be a joke than his future wife.
“And the winner of the jack in the box collection basket is…Susan Edmonds!” Ann Marie shouts excitedly into the mic after reading the card.
The crowd claps respectively.
Jagger laughs under his breath when I whisper a curse that I didn’t think he’d be able to hear.
The small, round woman that won the basket quickly stands from her seat, her friends congratulating her with smiles and pats on the back. In her hand she has what looks like a small crab cake appetizer, and not wanting to put it back apparently, she pops it in her mouth before accepting her winnings. Only in her excitement, she must have swallowed too fast, because she immediately starts coughing, bending over at the knees as her back shakes.
Oh no.
Not thinking twice, I start running in her direction, rounding tables and pushing people out of my way as I finally get to her. Seeing her face now, it’s red and splotchy, her lips turning purple with her inability to breathe. Thinking back to my Heimlich training, I move behind her and try to wrap my arms around her middle, but find it rather hard with her size. Nevertheless, I lock my fingers together under her rib cage, hearing the echo of people muttering worriedly while others say they are calling an ambulance. It’s all background to me as I begin squeezing, trying to get her to cough it up, but then after two tries, I hear someone yell, “Was there real crab in the cakes? She’s allergic!”
Immediately I stop and turn her to face me, her blue eyes large and unfocused. Her mouth is locked open with the swelling of her tongue. Crap.
Turning to look behind me, I see Hanna standing at our table, the same worried look on her face as everyone else, the room having gone still. I motion her over, yelling over the heads of people, “Grab my purse!”
She’s quick with her response, having been trained in emergency situations with her vet background. Grabbing my bag, she runs it over to me, my hand snatching it from her as I open the side compartment, taking out the capped pen. Ripping off the top, I tell the woman evenly, remembering how reassuring it is to hear a non-panicked voice, “Stay calm and try to relax your muscles, okay? I promise everything’s going to be alright.” Without hesitation, I plunge the needle into the older woman’s thigh, pressing the plunger, delivering the medicine that’s going to get her breathing again. Within thirty seconds her chest isn’t working as hard, her dilated eyes starting to return to normal.
I help her back into her chair, asking someone to bring me some ice. Within a minute they come to my side with it, and I press it behind the lady’s neck, knowing the shock of the cold will help to bring her back to the moment. She looks up at me with a still puffy face, but not nearly as bad. She tries to say something and I lay a hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine, just relax. Help will be here soon.”
And sure enough, the minute I say it, a brigade of firemen and EMS barrel into the room, and I flag them down. They hurry their steps to us, everyone being considerate enough to make them a path to the patient. Once they get to her, I explain what happened while they assess her vitals, check her blood pressure. The EMT in charge nods along as I tell the story, trying to keep it as to the point as possible.
“You saved that woman’s life,” he tells me after they have her on a stretcher, wheeling her out of the room. “I take it you have medical training?”
“Only a little. I work at St. Josephs on the fourth floor as a medical assistant.”
“And the epi pen?”
“I’m allergic to bees. This is the only time I’ve ever been thankful for the fact.” I chuckle, and he laughs, people still keeping their distance around us.
“Well, that lady has a lot to thank you for. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Montae.” He gives me a quick smile and a squeeze on the shoulder, heading over to the guys as they wait outside the door for the elevator. With their departure, the room slowly comes alive again, people gossiping about the incident now that the danger is gone. I’m sure this will be the topic of conversation for the next three summer charity parties – that is until something bigger and more dramatic comes along.
Suddenly drained, I walk back over to Hanna, still standing where she was when she handed me my purse. Her eyes are sympathetic when she sees the slump in my shoulders. “I need to hit the gym,” I try to joke, taking the hobo bag from her and swinging it onto my shoulder, ignoring the eyes on me, including Ann Marie Kelly’s. I’m sure she’ll be pissed at me for a while, what with having disrupted her basket giving ceremony.
Hanna gives me ‘the look.’ The one everyone gives me when I try to pretend that my physical condition is in my control when we all know the opposite is true. “You know that isn’t the case, Cyv.”
A sigh. “I know.” And then I remember to say, “Thanks for getting me my bag.”
She smiles, bumping me with her shoulder. “I’m proud to be your assistant any time.”
“That was something,” Ambrosio says as he comes up behind Hanna, as though we just witnessed a great basketball game instead of a woman almost dying from a crab cake.
“I’d have to agree,” I hear that deep, calming voice say, and I spin around to see Jagger standing there, eyes serious as he looks at me.
“I’m just glad I could help,” I squeak out, suddenly self-conscious. Of all the eyes that could be watching me, his bother me the most. Turning to look at Hanna, I say, “You ready to go?”
She pouts, and so does Rosy. “But I wanted to see if I won the Hello-Kitty giftset basket.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.” I beg, my bag feeling heavier by the second as I stand here, wishing I had driven myself. All I want to do is go home, flop on my bed, and take the world’s longest nap. All while trying not to think of the intense stare Jagger is continuing to give me, which is going to be cemented in my mind for weeks to come.
At least he isn’t looking at the scars anymore.
“If you want to stay, I can always give you a ride home later,” Rosy offers, looking all too happy with his own suggestion.
“You’re making me stay here for another hour?” Moon says annoyedly, glaring at Rosy as he joins our little circle. Ann Marie’s voice comes over the speakers then, happy to say that the winner’s ceremony is going to continue. Moon aims the glare at her now.
Jagger looks between me and Moon, saying, “I don’t care to stick around, either. I can give you both a ride home now if you like?”
“I knew I was right in choosing you as my best friend.” Moon pats him on the shoulder with a goofy, obviously drunk, grin.
Rosy frowns, hands in his pockets again. “What the hell am I then?”
“Third best.” The grin widens.
Now he looks affronted. “Third?”
Moon nods, not looking guilty in the slightest. “Yep. Jagger, my barber Mario, and then you.”
“You’re an ass,” Rosy proclaims, the vein above his right eye ticking.
“At least I’m honest.”
“Yeah, you’re a freaking Abraham Lincoln.” He spits while Hanna giggles. It seems to lighten his mood some.
As they continue to argue, Jagger stays silent, and I wonder if staying here in doll hell is better than suffering a probable hour-long drive with him and his talkative friend.
“The offer expires in ten seconds,” Jagger warns, looking at his watch when his friends continue to bicker, and I haven’t given him an answer yet. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.” He looks up then, right at me. “Nine.”
I give up. “Fine. Thank you.”
He smiles. “Sure thing.”