EFFIN’ BEAUTY
Phoenix
What was wrong with him? How had Orchid wormed her way into his brain?Phoenix did not need another mentee, or a protégée. Dad requested this favor, he reminded himself.
Then, she showed up. Snaked her way through the four-story-high hall thronged with guests and servers. It was as if the columns, arches and myriad fabrics were a backdrop for her graceful entry. The purple and blue lighting chosen to match her dyed locks.
He noticed her glancing at the number woven into the table’s centerpiece, then checking the card in her hand.
Phoenix stood. When she spotted him, she flashed white teeth like sunshine after an eclipse. A metallic minidress shimmered over her slender frame.
“You’re a living Effie statue,” he said, feeling his face split over the lightness in his chest. Even compared to the oversized gold, silver and bronze statues decorating the space, nothing shone as bright as Orchid’s elegance.
“And you’re an Oscar?” she asked, eying his suit.
He looked down at himself. “You do know that Oscar statuettes are naked knights holding swords, right?”
Her laugh tinkled like the golden hoops around her wrist. “Oops.”
“Let me introduce you.” Phoenix waved a hand towards the people seated at his table.
His business partner had already popped out of his seat. “Dex,” said the burly guy, shaking Orchid’s hand. His girth was busting out of a tan vest, matching bowtie and khaki pants. “You’ve met the suit,” he said, directing his bushy eyebrows towards Phoenix, “I’m the creative. And this is my wife, Fiona.” He cupped a brunette’s elbow.
“Finally,” Fiona said, which caused a confused expression to flit across Orchid’s face.
Before Orchid could follow up on Fiona’s proclamation, the rest of the guests stood or gestured hello. “Good to meet you,” she said to each person, waving at those across the linen expanse.
Like a Hollywood gala, the peal of music trumpeted the start of the program. An emcee began to announce the first category.
Phoenix pulled out the chair beside his. “Sorry if I’m late. I got caught up at work.” Orchid slid into her seat. He’d saved her the best view.
“Your timing is perfect,” Phoenix reassured her. “Would you like white or red?” he asked, indicating the curved bottles in front of them.
“White, please. I haven’t had lunch, so wine will be a good appetizer.”
“Haven’t had lunch?” He poured for her, then fetched a basket of warm bread. Why did concern about her day suddenly wash over him?
“You’re the best.” She scooped a mini loaf onto her plate and broke off a piece with slender fingers. “Manna from heaven,” she declared.
“What’s with skipping meals?” he admonished.
Orchid polished off the roll and washed it down with the remaining wine. “What a day.”
“Anything I can do?”
“More vino?”
Phoenix refilled her glass as she speared a pile of greens onto her salad plate.
“You’re as hungry as a baby bird.”
Orchid’s fork paused mid-air. When she began to speak, Phoenix drew closer to hear her over the din of the show.
“My mom used to call mehungry bird,” she said.
Used to.
Questions swirled around his head like a thousand moths aloft in a moonlit field. “That sounds like a sweet endearment,” he said. “Do you like being called that?” He was testing the water, which seemed like a deep ocean dive.
