I hold my arm out and Allie runs hers through it, as shewalks in small steps with her legs close together. Her panties must be drenched by now. She was so wet when I was playing with her in the limo; I could feel the dampness seeping through the material. As we walk up the stone steps and make our way to the entrance of the Poplar estate, we are greeted by a server who offers us champagne. It’s the same song and dance at every one of these events. The Brookline charity was created by Henry and Marlena Poplar, one of the wealthiest couples in the county. They never had children of their own, but fostered several kids before creating a foundation that aids children who have had trouble getting permanent placements. I believe in the cause, which is why it didn’t take too much arm-twisting from Declan to get me to attend. But there is a small part of me that wishes I could just write a check and not have to talk to all these people.
Allie declines the champagne, and I do the same. I think we both could use a weekend off from mind-altering substances. I plan on altering her mind in other ways later, anyway.
As we migrate further into the house, I spot Declan chatting with the Poplars, and he waves me over. I place my hand on the small of Allie’s back as we walk toward them.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Declan crows.
“You're the cat who dragged me here,” I say in his ear as I shake his hand and clap his back, making sure the Poplars don’t hear.
He smirks. “Better than being the mouse.”
I greet Henry and Marlena, introducing them to Allie whose eyes widen as she takes them in. “You’re…you,” she stutters. “I mean you’re Marlena Poplar,” she tries again. “You have three Michelin stars. I mean, you’re also an amazing chef, obviously. But you know that. You’re like one of my idols. I’m so sorry. I’m usually much cooler than this.”
Marlena lets out a hearty laugh. She’s an elegant woman who looks much younger than her sixty or so years. Her dark hair is done up in a French-style twist, and her cranberry-stained lipsstand out against her deep brown skin. She’s wearing a long shimmery blush gown that flows down to her ankles.
“I’m flattered you know who I am,” she says. “It’s been a while since I’ve had my chef’s hat on.”
“You don’t cook at all anymore?” Allie inquires.
“Oh, I do,” she playfully slaps her husband’s abdomen. “This one will barely eat anyone else’s cooking. But I no longer own any restaurants.”
Allie’s eyes light up. “Does that mean you catered tonight’s dinner yourself?”
“I wish,” Marlena replies. “I did oversee most of it, though.”
Allie smiles. Her genuine smile. I had no idea Marlena was a chef. Most of what I know about them involves their charity and philanthropic work.
Marlena looks both ways and turns to Allie. “Hey, do you want to see my kitchen?”
“Um? Fuck yes!” Allie cheers, completely forgetting where she is and who she’s with. I hold back a laugh, bringing my fist up to my mouth to hide it. She blushes slightly as if she just realized what she did. “I mean, that would be wonderful. Thank you,” she corrects herself and then does a little half-bow, curtsy thing.
“She’s not the queen of England,” I say discreetly under my breath, which earns me an elbow to the ribs.
Marlena smiles warmly and holds her arm out for Allie. As they turn to leave, arm in arm, Marlena whispers in my ear, “I wouldn’t let this one go if I were you.”
The restof the cocktail hour goes by pretty uneventfully. I trudge through the monotony of having the same conversation over and over again.How is Tyler Hotel Corp? I no longer work there…Cue shock and horror. Declan gives me shitabout bringing Allie knowing there’s no way I’m going to dangle her in front of his father. I tell him to grow a set and face him.Hypocrite much?I never ended up calling my own father back, which prompted my sister to stage an intervention in my own home this past week. Not only did it fuck up my chance to see Allie that night, but she sat there while I called him to make sure I didn’t back out of it again. That was a fun conversation. He’s disappointed. He doesn’t understand why I would leave a lucrative position to “write silly stories.”
Why can’t you be more like Trent? Cassie stepped up when she needed to. Your mother is beside herself. She’s been drinking herself into a stupor since you left us.
I’m not sure he could have packed more guilt and manipulation into a five-minute phone call if he tried. Cassie overheard everything and was livid. I’ve tried to shield her from their true nature over the years. I never wanted her to know what my parents really thought of me. When her anger subsided, I could see the hurt in her eyes. Like the sacrifices she made were all in vain. I wish I could have protected her better. Maybe that’s why I feel the need to protect Allie from getting hurt. I wasn’t able to save my sister, but I can still save her.
Before she left, Cassie told me she understood why I quit the company and that she would support me no matter what. At least I have one family member in my corner.
Thankfully, my parents are in Aspen trying to get one last ski trip in before the end of the season, so they are not in attendance tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if I had to face my father so soon after that disaster of a conversation.
I’m almost ready to hunt Allie down when she finally returns from her kitchen tour. She’s giddy. I can see her beaming from behind the guy in front of me talking about capital gains and profit margins. I excuse myself and slide up next to her. Leaning in, I whisper in her ear, “Want to go somewhere quieter?”
She gives me that incredulous look she gives when she’strying to pretend she’s offended. “Are you going to give me what I want?” she asks, hands planted firmly on her hips as her teeth sink into her plush lower lip.
“No,” I answer honestly. “But it’s your choice.”
I shove my hands in my pockets as I head toward the back patio and through the wide-open doors. A quick glance back tells me she’s following me. I walk past the crystal pool and large entertaining area to the free-standing building at the edge of the property.
“A pool house again, really?” Allie comes up behind me.
“We need new memories,” I explain.
She huffs but continues to follow me as I walk up to the door. I jiggle the handle. It’s locked. I look around until my eyes land on her hair. There are a few pieces pushed back on one side. Perfect. I reach up, and she immediately backs away.
