Fade Out (The Morganville Vampires #7)(29)
I’m out the door when I receive the text from her that she’s waiting out front in the town car.
* * *
“I wish you’d have been honest with me, Ari.” Becca swirls the drink in her hand, her French manicured nails polished to a high gloss and glinting more than the crystal. A classic French twist leaves her shoulders bare, so that her long layers aren’t in competition for attention over the black Armani dress.
Simple. Elegant. What I was supposed to aspire to tonight.
Setting my sparkling water on the table, I say, “I didn’t realize—” I stop. Compose. Then, “I was a size two just a month ago,” I whisper, refraining from tugging on the pins Becca stuck in my dress to keep it from slipping. “Maybe it’s stress from school. Life changes, and all that.” I force my shoulders stiff, stopping myself from shrugging. I’m already getting reprimanded on my weight, I don’t want her to start in on my shrugging and how it’s a weak gesture.
Becca takes a sip of her red wine. Her eyes dart around the room above the rim. She’s dismissing the conversation—or rather, interrogation—completely. I failed her, so there’s no reason to hear my input on the matter. But had I showed up a size four… Oh, how the world would’ve ended.
There is no safe, middle ground.
Stepping to the side, I put some much-needed breathing room between us. The orchestra starts a piece by Bach, and I try to lose myself in the comfort of the familiar melody. Ignoring the many too-wide, stretched smiles on the seemingly happy faces in the banquet hall.
A charity event. Which in itself isn’t a bad thing; they do a lot of good. This one in particular is to raise money for a homeless housing project that’s being funded locally. But that’s not truly why we’re here, why any of them are here. This is a way for big CEOs and top lawyers and other people of wealth to spend their money lavishly while pretending it’s for a good cause.
It’s about them showing off for each other, making new, high-on-the-ladder contacts, and creating new business opportunities. I’ve been to so many of these things I can’t even attempt to put a number on it; I’ve seen it all before.
The lights dim, setting the scene on the dance floor now that the dinner portion of the evening is through. Fake candle sconces illuminate the walls and rafters of the banquet hall, filling the cool room with ambient warmth. It’s beautiful, but also a slight reminder of the fakeness of these events.
When my father finishes his first round of greetings and mingling, he walks over to us and wraps his arm around my waist. “Ari, love,” he says, turning me to face the man behind him. “You remember Lucas.”
My spine locks stiff. I feel my father’s prodding gesture against my back, and I step forward, accepting Lucas’s outstretched hand. “Hi. Yes, of course. What are you doing here?”
He chuckles, enclosing both his large hands around mine. “Our parents are conspiring again,” he says, giving my father a crooked smirk. The air vacates my lungs. Lucas must sense my unease. He clarifies, “The merger. My father is bringing new clients to Wyndemere Enterprises. They’ve been dragging me to boring meeting after boring meeting for days now.”
I laugh, pulling my hand free of his. That may be the truth, but it’s not the full disclosure. I never once thought of Lucas and me as anything…but I should’ve seen it coming. Our fathers are best friends, having attended Dartmouth together. Then they ventured into the same business. It wouldn’t be a crazy stretch to imagine my father’s intentions by inviting Lucas here. Now.
I’m only angry that he’s forcing this on me so soon. I thought I had until I graduated.
I suck in a breath, steel my nerves. “How long are you staying in town?”
My father interrupts. “You two kids go dance and talk.” He makes a shooing motion. “This event needs bodies on that dance floor.” Then he offers his hand to Becca, making a grand gesture. “May I have this dance?”
Becca’s gleaming white smile nearly glows neon amidst the mock candlelight. And I think, it didn’t used to be this way. As I watch them stroll onto the dance floor, my father’s strong arm wrapping Becca’s lean waist, a memory surfaces of the three of us: slow dancing to Christmas music in the living room, twinkling lights, a roaring fire, laughing.
I look away, breaking the memory.
My father has already said his piece to me for the time being. He commented on my weight also, hinting not too subtly about his concerns on “the speed”, but he wasn’t as harsh as Becca. He’s more preoccupied with his never-ending quest at husband matchmaking.
Between the both of them relentlessly stoking either queasy topic, it’s a wonder I eat at all.
Lucas grasps my elbow and begins leading me to the floor. “We should keep your father happy.”
I grin wide. “But of course.”
As the song wears on, I listen as Lucas enlightens me on the details of the merger. I smile and nod in all the right places, but I couldn’t be more bored. I have never feigned interest in business; that’s one thing I can say with certainty that sets me apart from the other Wyndemeres. My single, identifying ownness.
“So,” Lucas says, shifting gears. His arms enfold me to him, and my heart races. But not in a good way. “I was hoping I could see more of you while I’m here.”