Imperfect Truth(16)

When will I learn to start anticipating her digs? I do not want, or need, her son’s money, and I’m sick of her saying it.

I turn around and see Alexandre standing next to a beautiful woman. She places her hand on his arm as she laughs. Her long, flowing, sun-kissed locks cascade a little further down the curve of her back with each exhale she makes.

“Oh there he is…with Natasha.”

“Natasha?”

“Oh yes, dear. Natasha. Her family summered with us in the Hamptons for years. They were practically inseparable growing up. Look how lovely she looks.” I wince at the sound of her words. Her intentions are not lost on me. Lenore is always making back-handed comments at my expense. My body tightens as anger coils in my belly. Shake it off, play it cool. This is what she wants. Who cares that they “summered” with her pretentious ass.

“Oh, Nat. Of course Alexandre told me about her.” Alexandre had told me of his summers with Nat as a kid, but I’d just assumed she was ‘one of the boys.’ Silly me. I look back over at the scornful eyes of Lenore and feeling no need to be ridiculed anymore, I decide to part ways with her and venture over to Alexandre. I excuse myself and pull my shoulders back. I walk with dignity and confidence. A perfect lie…I wish I felt the way I look.

“Ava.” Instead of answering him I smile at Natasha. “Hi, I’m Alexandre’s wife, Ava. Natasha right?”

“Yes, I see you’ve heard of me.” She beams.

“Yep, Alexandre told me all about you…” My eyes narrow at Alexandre. “And Lenore just told me all about your wonderful summers together in the Hamptons.”

“Oh, I love Leni. She's like a second mom to me. We had lunch just last week,” she gushes while tossing her long, platinum blond hair behind her shoulders.

Of course she’s best friends with Lenore. Of course, they’ve lunched, and summered together. Hell, they’re basically twins minus the hair, of course. Both tall, skinny, and practically goddesses.

“When did you get back from living abroad, Natasha?” I look over to Alexandre, who seems enthralled by his cocktail. He holds the tumbler in his hands as he slowly rotates it, the ice rattling off the sides, sloshing the scotch…maybe he hates these events as much as I do?

“Actually, I just arrived home two weeks ago. It’s sort of strange being home. I lived in London for…” she pauses to think about her answer, then places a hand on Alexandre’s, “Wow, ten years. Can you believe that?” She smiles with adoration at him,

Is she really touching him like that in front of me? I feel like a voyeur, like I’m interrupting an intimate moment between these two. Sick…I feel sick.

“Well, it’s very nice to finally get to meet you. You were missed at the wedding.” I give her a coy smile before I turn my attention back to Alexandre. “I’m going to go grab another drink. Alexandre, would you like to join me?”

“No, I’m just going to catch up with Nat,”

Jealousy seeps out of me like a poison. I dig my nails directly into the soft skin below my hemline. I nod goodbye to them knowing if I open my mouth, venom will pour out, and I know I can’t make a scene.

I look around the room, my eyes stopping on the Lucite and white modern bar housed in the middle of the room. Yes, that’s exactly what I need right now. I need to take the edge off. A crowd surrounds the bar. Four men who have obviously come straight from work stand there. They still have on their three-piece suits and are standing around laughing and drinking rounds of tequila shots. I watch as the Patron Silver is poured. It seems the festivities have begun.

They are loud.

They are drunk.

I have no desire to be near them…

I make haste and dash to the nearest cocktail waitress. A young beauty with fiery hair holds a stainless steel tray with six crystal flutes filled to the brim with a Brut Rosé. She seems to have an acute knowledge of what I need, her eyes looking over to the obnoxious crowd of rowdy men. She flashes me a knowing smile and a wink. I bring the glass up to my red stained lips. The crisp bubbles are as refreshing as a cool summer’s breeze as they make their way down my throat. Supple and aromatic…the epitome of style.

Now holding my latest glass of champagne, I step into the alcove. Within the confines of the new space is a beautiful blue and navy abstract piece of art that spans the whole length of the wall. Finally alone, I inhale a calming breath, needing the oxygen to calm my emotions.

As I stand in front of the painting, I lose myself within the brush strokes dancing across the surface.

Time passes…

Minutes.