"I don't own anything remotely fancy," I say hoping to get out of this family party. I'm exhausted and probably a little depressed.
"Anything is fine Elizabeth. It's a private room. Just family."
Crap to hell, I don't want to go to this. Preparing for this move to my aunt's house has thrown my work schedule completely off which is horrible when you're a starving entrepreneur. I've decided that my plan B is going to be an attempt at landing a pitch interview with an investment group that would change everything for me. Sloan briefly dated one of the money managers of the group and promised that she could get me fifteen minutes in front of them. In order to be ready though, I need to tweak the code to the app and build my database out further. It's important that I dot all my i's and cross my t's. I can't blow this pitch. I may never get an opportunity like it again. But what am I going to tell the woman who's opened her doors to me with no questions asked. That I don't want to go to my uncle's birthday dinner, because I'm an ungrateful brat?
"I look forward to it Aunt Juliette."
"Just call me Juliette sweetie. I'm not big on formalities."
We both silently stare at each other for an awkward moment. I'm trying to figure us out, and I think that she may be doing the same. We just don't know each other well yet.
"All righty then." My aunt breaks the momentary silence between us. "I'll let you get back to it. Can I fix you anything? A sandwich? Maybe a cocktail?"
Do I seem like I need a drink? Probably. It's weird though, having your aunt fix you a drink. Even though I'm totally legal, I would never drink with my parents. I don't care if I'm fifty-years-old and they're eighty-five. Not going to happen.
"I've got vino." She sing songs.
Aww what the hell.
"I guess I wouldn't mind a glass of red if you have it."
Chapter Nine
Elizabeth
THE GLASS OF SHIRAZ I practically inhaled at the house did absolutely nothing to quash my nerves. The muscles in my neck and shoulders start to tense up the moment I step into the restaurant. The delectable scents of meat, garlic, and a hot grill are wafting through the air, making my stomach rumble, and I can hear raucous laughter coming from the back. I'm entering the private room of the upscale Albright Bar & Steakhouse. The place where twenty-five family members I've never met are celebrating my uncle's birthday.
"Nervous?" My aunt asks while gently rubbing my back.
"A little," I admit. Kind of wishing she would stop touching me. It's only making me more rattled.
That and the fact that I'm completely underdressed like I feared I would be. It is crystal clear upon first glance that the people in this room have spent what my app made over the last two months on their outfits. I should have realized what I was dealing with when I took a first look at Juliette's outfit. She is wearing a cream-colored pair of Armani slacks and a cream boat-necked, silk shell both of which seem to skim the length of her body. Not too tight, not too baggy, and both make her look like a million bucks. Her hair is pulled back in an elegantly smooth ponytail, and she has expertly applied colors from a nude make up palette, which make her glow and her entire outfit look even more polished. Nude leather stilettos finish the ensemble.
I on the other hand am wearing a pair of tight, white skinny jeans, my "dressy" white scoop neck t-shirt, and the only pair of nice wedge sandals I own. All from Target (pronounced Tarjay with an accent thank you very much). The whole outfit probably set me back about fifty bucks, and it's very basic, but it's also probably the most flattering outfit I own. You don't dress up much when you're on the computer all day and night and you’re broke. My wardrobe consists mostly of T-shirts and yoga pants.
I've never really known what to do with my massive head of curly hair. I have repeatedly failed at mastering the art of blowing it out or flat ironing it properly. My mother told me the key to a perfect coif was to use the right products, but she offered very little information on what those right products might be for me. Typical of my mom. Direction without substance. So I pull it back in a semi-messy ponytail, like I do most days, and hope no one will think that I didn't at least try.
When I enter the room with Juliette, I immediately hesitate because all eyes focus in my direction and they grow eerily quiet. I'm sure some of the silence is because Juliette has the distinct ability to command attention when she walks into a room, in addition to the fact that I'm the new girl in the family.
"Everyone this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth this is everyone."
I can hear the joy in my aunt's voice when she introduces me. She's genuinely happy that I'm here, and there's definitely something about her exuberance which saddens me, because I totally feel like I'm using her. I can see my mother's, "I told you so" face in my head right now. I should have reached out to my aunt way before I needed something from her. I've lived in this same city for over five years. Whatever her issues are with my father have nothing to do with me.