Too judgy? If so, I’m sorry. I’m sure Freddy is a great guy.
He seems nice enough, though. I’ve met him at a couple of the Jacobses’ family gatherings. The Jacobses are rich asCroesus. That’s what Pops used to call rich people. It fits. He’s rolling in it. So, this is morehiskind of party, not mine. Lauren means well—she really does. But I’m sonotthis girl. I’m a starving artist. Figuratively. Not literally. No,literally, I live off of forty-cent packages of ramen noodles and macaroni and cheese in the blue box, so, no, I’ve got lots of carb-induced meat on my bones.
Case in point. Right this minute I’m surrounded by hundreds of rich people, famous people, important people, and politicians. I think I saw the governor a few minutes ago. We’re in a huge ballroom in one of the five-star hotels in downtown Chicago. The ballroom is practically the size of a football field. Above me are the most spectacular chandeliers I’ve ever seen. They’re enormous and appear to be dripping with jewels. The way they glitter and sparkle makes the entire space feel like a scene from a fairy tale. Because I’m no princess, and this place is so beyond anything I’ve ever seen, it makes me feel self-conscious.
Everyone is dressed in tuxedos and beautiful gowns or cocktail dresses like mine. Thankfully, I don’t look completely out of place here. Waiters and waitresses dressed in penguin suits are walking around with trays of finger foods and flutes of champagne. There’s a relatively large orchestra sitting off in the far corner near the huge dance floor. Several couples are already out there cutting a rug; not the kind of dancing I’m used to. This is fancy, grown-up, ballroom dancing, not the grind-your-ass-into-the-guy-behind-you dancing that I’ve done at clubs. No matter, I won’t be dancing tonight unless I want to make a complete fool of myself.
As my eyes scan the room, I notice the long table filled with endless amounts of food and delectable-looking desserts, and my stomach rumbles.Of course, I’m hungry. In the center of the table is a giant ice sculpture of a swan. If it were sitting on the floor, it would probably stand taller than me. The swan’sneck is bent down as though it’s ready to take a bite out of all of the deliciousness below it. The main bar is nearby, while other smaller bar stations are located throughout the ballroom. Deciding a drink is in order, I cross my fingers that it’s an open bar. I brought a little money with me, but I’d rather save that in case I need a taxi home.
Walking to the bar, I look to my right and spot Lauren standing with her husband, Blake. I recognize the people they’re with as old family friends. I scan the other way in search of my “date.”Now, where did he go?I spot him standing near the bar with a group of guys. They’re in a small circle, and each man has his phone in his hands, texting.
I walk toward Frederick in the hopes that he’ll be fun tonight. He hasn’t proven to be much of a date thus far, but heisdoing me a favor, I guess. I’m sure Lauren had to coerce him into bringing me. I move to stand next to him and wait for him to notice me. Should I tap him on the shoulder so he knows I’m here? Do I stand and wait for Frederick to ask me to dance or if I’d like a drink? I decide to do my best to be a good date. I wait. And wait. And wait. Nearly ten minutes pass, and Frederick does nothing but text and talk to his buddies. None of the guys even look at me. It’s annoying. What?Am I hideous?I don’t think I’m that tragic-looking. I’ve got cool hair that’s naturally reddish-auburn and cut bluntly just past my shoulders. I’ve also got the ends tipped with blue tonight, like my middle name. It’s only temporary color, but I’m an artist; we artists need to have funky hair at special events. It’s the law. I giggle, which draws several pairs of eyes to me. Oh,nowFrederick notices me.
“You okay?” he asks. He doesn’t make eye contact with me, and before I can respond, he’s back to his phone. I hear him mutter to his buddies, “Chick is weird.” The men chuckle at that little slight, and that’s it? That’s all I get? Whatever.
“Asshole,” I grumble as I start to move around the room again. I can keepmyselfentertained. I’m used to doing things alone. That’s probably why I hate stuff like this. I’m much better on my own, in my own world, in my own head. There’s nothing wrong with being alone. It’s being lonely that sucks.
CHAPTER TWO
HAPPY F*CKING NEW YEAR
“Radio check and your twenty. Gill?”I say into my invisible communication device. I’ve got ten men and three women working tonight. Two of the guys are newbies. I need to know they’re all where they’re supposed to be and that everyone is still online.
“Roger. Comm room,” says Gill quickly.
I call each member of my security team one by one. It moves fast if everyone is on their toes, “Radio check and your twenty, Joe.”
“Roger. Northwest corner near the band.”
“Keith.”
“Roger. Southwest entrance.”
“Becky.”
“Roger. Ladies’ room.”
“Phil.”
“Roger. On the gov.”
I work through each name on my team, and in less than four minutes, I know where everyone is working. “Ten-four, let me know if you see anything out of the ordinary.” I need to keep the new guys on my radar. One screwup and shit gets real.
“Roger,” they all say in unison. I make my way around the perimeter, attempting to look like one of the partygoers. I’ve even donned my tuxedo for the night. I hate this formal shit. I’m much more comfortable in jeans and an old T-shirt, but when in Rome, I gotta dress the part. The fact is, I hate New Year’s Eve. It’s a chance for every idiot to drink themselves into oblivion and lose any common sense God gave them.
Tonight’s job is nothing new for us. My private security company, APS Security, has been hired to keep an eye on the Governor of Illinois, the Mayor of Chicago, and two US senators at this annual New Year’s Eve Ball. My job is to secure the facility and protect my VIPs and their guests. It’s a pain in the ass in a place this large. The security detail assigned to the politicians is small, so they’ve added my company into the mix as extra security.
As I weave around the room for the fifth time, I’ve become familiar with the groups huddled together, drinking and talking. All of these people wearing expensive outfits and drinking their top-shelf liquors have too much time on their hands. At least I’ve got perspective. The name of my company is proof of that. I used the initials of my two fallen brothers, Adam and Payton, and my dad, Sean, for the business name.Iknow that life’s short. I know you can’t let time pass you by just sitting around talking bullshit with assholes. You’ve got to make each day count. Not a day goes by without thinking about those guys. We served three tours in Afghanistan together. I was called home when my dad passed suddenly. While I was home, laying my father to rest, Payton and Adam were both killed out on patrol by an IED. I know I’m not to blame, but I can’t help but think if I’d been there?—
All I know for sure is that I lost three of the most important men in my life that month. Payton, Adam, and I had made plans to start and run this company from the ground up. The name was even set, but I changed that in the end. Hell, we had abusiness plan written up. Adam was a wiz at that kind of shit. Goddamn, I miss those guys.
I’m making my way around the room for the sixth time when something catches my eye. I look to the right and see a woman with fiery red hair tipped with blue on the ends wearing a short black dress. As I watch, she steps up to one of the small bars and leans in to say something to the bartender. He looks at her blankly. Shrugging, he reaches behind him and hands her a bottle of Bud. Not Bud Light—regular Bud. Next, the barkeep reaches over to grab a beer glass, and she waves him off, opting instead for just the bottle. I stare as she tilts the brown bottle back and takes a huge swig. I chuckle aloud because it’s not ordinarily what you’d see at a party like this—a beautiful woman downing a bottle of domestic beer. I chuckle again as I move away to continue my perimeter check.
On my next pass, I notice the woman again. This time, she’s examining the enormous ice sculpture. She’s reaching up to touch it; no, wait. she’s petting the head of the swan, and I swear to God, she’s saying something to the damn thing. I can’t help but smile as I watch her—she seems like an odd duck in this setting. Checking her out one more time, I see the swan looks different. It’s headless, and Red’s face matches her hair. She’s looking around, apparently checking to see if anyone saw her break the bird’s neck. She grabs a napkin, wrapping what I assume is an icy bird head inside, and peeks over her shoulder again. This time, a blond woman walks up to her and wraps an arm over her shoulders. I walk a few steps to my left so I can watch them closer. Red holds up the napkin containing the swan’s head, and then the most beautiful thing happens. Red throws her head back and releases the most amazing laugh. It’s part giggle, part tinkling sound, but it’s all sincere. I don’t remember the last time I heard someone laugh like that, from their heart and soul. It’s a giggle with experience behind it, likeshe does it all the time. Her friend covers her face and laughs too. That’s the difference between this gorgeous redhead and the rest of the women here. She’s a free spirit. She’s not afraid to laugh like nobody’s watching.
Oh, Jesus. I didnotjust think that.
It’s weird. I’m not a funny guy. In fact, people say I’m stoic; I’ve even been accused of being too serious, and that’s by the people in my family. But for some reason, watching her makes me laugh too. Not only that, I have an uncontrollable urge to see if I can make her laugh like that.
