Putting on my best winning smile, I dutifully stand and hold my hand out to him. Already, he makes my skin crawl. His eyes are predatory and too big for his head. He’s bald, looks to be in his late forties, and has a slight beer belly.
“Evelyn,” he almost whispers, curving up one side of his mouth. I force down the urge to shudder when he takes my hand and kisses it. My hand instantly feels dirty.
“She’s almost finished school and wants to be a psychologist.”
“Really?” he asks, looking at me with a smirk. “Can you tell what’s on my mind right now?”
I almost screw my face up in disgust, but my mother’s cackling stops me. “Oh, Charles, you are such the outrageous flirt.”
I try taking my hand away from him, but he grips it tightly. “Well, I did try to woo you, but unfortunately, you are married to another.”
My mother blushes and cackles again. It’s only now I realise how much she sounds like a witch when she does it. “You are awful.” She lightly places her hand on his shoulder. “But, even though Evelyn is not married, she is promised to another.”
He raises his eyebrow. “Is that so? Who is the lucky young gentleman?”
I smile as my mother is about to answer, but she’s quickly thwarted by one of her tennis friends virtually screaming at her for attention. That’s another thing they love to do here. It’s almost like they have to talk over the other because each thinks his or her voice is more important than the other’s is.
“Excuse me?” my mother says, leaving to deal with her friend.
I think Charles will leave also, but he doesn’t. Instead, he still holds my hand and makes an obvious attempt at showing me just how much he admires the way I look. “How old are you?” He looks down at my breasts when he asks.
“Almost eighteen.”
He licks his greasy, slobbery lips. “Hmm. Just ripe for the taking.”
I pull my hand away from his grip. “Excuse me,” I say, gritting my teeth. This man is disgusting.
“Hold on a moment. I haven’t finished with you—”
“Charles, there you are,” a woman behind him says. I see the moment his eyes look irritated by this woman’s arrival. She lovingly places her small hand on his shoulder and looks at me. “Chatting up the young ladies again, I see.” She laughs, extending her hand. “I’m Leyla, Charles’ long-suffering wife.”
“I’m Evelyn. Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand, and she nods her head at me. She then turns to Charles. “Saul was hoping to have a small word with you about tomorrow. I said I’d come and find you.”
Charles sighs. “Okay, where is he?” His tone is anything but eager, but I don’t care. All of a sudden, the room feels claustrophobic, and I’m desperate to wash my hands.
Leyla points across the room. “He’s over there.” She places her hand on his back to motion him forward and turns to me. “Nice to meet you, Evangelica.”
“It’s Evelyn,” I say, but I know it falls on death ears. They’re already moving. I take my chance then and leave the room. I quickly head to the bathroom, wash my hands, and walk outside onto the patio for some fresh air. The night is warm, but not sticky. It has a fresh, summery breeze in the air making it feel more comfortable. I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, listening for the sounds of distant crickets. As I stand by the patio doors, I look up toward the stars in the sky, and immediately, I wonder how Drake is doing.
“Do you like the stars?”
I look up to the sky and nod my head. “I do. I think they’re beautiful.”
“If I could, I would travel the stars in the sky and pick out the biggest, most beautiful star for you.”
A huge smile spreads on my face. “You would do that for me?”
I feel when his finger brushes my cheek and I like it. “I would do anything for you, Evelyn.”
I smile as I think about the memory from when I was thirteen. Drake was always so sweet and charming back then. How innocent his words of affection were when I was that age. I know differently now.
“I wondered where you had gotten to. I was hoping to finish our little conversation.”
Jumping, I turn to the source and find Charles standing way too close for my liking. He’s behind me, blowing his hot, vulgar breath on my neck.
“What is there to finish?” I try sounding as aloof as possible when in fact my heart is racing a million miles an hour. I thought things were bad when I was standing in a room packed full of people. But here, I’m alone. Alone and vulnerable.
“When your spotty little boyfriend fucks you, does he make you come? I would put money on the fact that he doesn’t. You should try a real man, sweetheart. Someone who’s been around long enough to know the game.”