I stare point blank at her. “Yes.” My vowel is a mile long.
Realization dawns on her face. “You invited him?”
“No.” I furiously shake my head. “No, I didn’t. He must have found one of the fliers at the office, or heard us talking about it. God.” I press my palm against my eye.
“Hey, Sydney, relax. It’s not a big deal. We’ll just ignore him the whole night. He’s an asshole to come here. I mean, as if we don’t see enough of him during the week.”
“Right,” I agree, pressing my trembling hands together. “We’ll ignore him. We’ll forget about him.”
My words sound so weak. Not since the first day I laid eyes on that man have I been able to forget about him.
“I just don’t get why he would come,” Dana says, her eyes darting around the room. “He could fly to anywhere in the world he wanted for the weekend. Why would he come here?”
“I. Don’t. Know.”
Either to hurt me or win me over.
But he doesn’t need to do either one of those things. He said he would let things be between us… Didn’t he? Or maybe all he said was he would treat me better, and I misinterpreted the words.
I don’t understand anything anymore. I haven’t since the first day I walked into his office.
“Heeeey!” Crystal is back, two drinks in her hands. “I know you said you didn’t want a drink, but I got you one anyway. It’s your favorite.”
I take the gin and tonic and slam it down, swallowing the entire contents of the glass in a few gulps.
“Jesus, Sydney,” Crystal says, her mouth open. “This isn’t a competition. Are you okay?”
I set the empty glass down on a nearby cocktail table. “I’m fine.”
Dana and Crystal are looking at me like I’m loony.
“I saw Brendan come in,” Crystal says.
I bite my lip. For a minute there — amidst the Mulroney fervor — I forgot all about Brendan. “Where is he?”
Crystal sips her drink. “I don’t know.”
“Is this Brendan cute?” Dana asks.
“He’s decent,” Crystal says. “He’s got a bit of a Southern gentleman thing going for him.”
“Like Gone With the Wind?”
“Not quite. More like Flannery O’Connor.”
“Everyone’s poor in Flannery O’Connor, and they don’t know how to speak right.”
“Do they? Wasn’t there that one story…”
Their words fade away until I can barely hear the conversation. I’m too busy scanning the club for signs of Mr. Mulroney. My heartbeat quickens until its volume surpasses that of the music. When I finally find him, our eyes lock and he immediately heads for me.
It’s a cliché moment, just like one from the movies. Time slows down and everything gradually blurs till he’s the only visible person in the club.
The words he left me with in the office on Monday have taken on new meaning.
I just don’t know what that meaning is. All I know is he’s unexpectedly here, and it’s not because he wants to assert his authority or make me feel bad. Surely, he’s here because he wants to be.
I don’t want to get my hopes up, but with each foot he gains across the floor, it’s harder and harder not to.
In his gray t-shirt and slightly messy, wavy hair no one would ever guess the man making his way towards me is head of a major film production company. Dressed down, he seems younger than he usually does. If it weren’t for his extreme good looks, he would blend into the crowd, becoming just another young person dancing and drinking to forget.
Dana and Crystal fall silent as he approaches. A few feet away from me, he stops. The four of us stand like dummies, staring at each other, waiting for someone to pull our strings and make us talk.
“Hello,” he says, his voice slick and sweet. His gaze runs over Dana and Crystal and falls on me.
The other girls are looking at me too, as if I’m expected to suddenly speak up and explain the whole situation. I can feel their eyes, though I can’t take my own off the man in front of me.
“Hi,” I croak.
He looks at Dana. “I heard you talking about the show earlier. One of the fliers was in the office. It sounded interesting, so I thought I would check it out.”
I sneak a peek at Dana. Her eyes are wide and her fingers clutch the glass in her hand like it’s a lifesaver and this club is sinking into the ocean.
“Cool,” she responds, somehow making just the one-word sound strained. She grimaces, no doubt knowing just how robotic the word came out.
A half-smile flickers on his lips. He’s pushing it too. Nothing about this interaction is easy or normal. A few hours ago, he was probably bossing her around, telling her to do this and that while she daydreamed about places in which to dump his body.