It almost feels like the singles table at a wedding. Good enough to be there, but not good enough for someone to want you.
And with the way people have been staring at me all night, it’s like I have the words ‘cursed forever’ written across my forehead in big, bold letters. “Another drink?” The same bartender from earlier asks me, noting my empty glass. I nod madly at him as if to say ‘please save me,’ but, instead, he chuckles.
Handing me the ready-made drink on the tray that he holds close to his body, he winks before walking away.
“So, Jennifer.” The older lady beside me, Dorothy, has been talking my ear off all night. She’s in her seventies atleast, and she doesn’t try to hide it. Her white hair is in what I assume are her natural waves, her green eyes tired. Her lips are pink and barely visible when she talks.
“Mmm?” I say, peeling my eyes off the back of the bartender’s head, forcing my attention to my new friend.
“You said you’re working with Cole Green and Mara Scott on their next film?” she asks, her shaky hand rising to her mouth as she takes a slow sip from her champagne flute. Placing the glass back down, she fixes the napkin over her mustard dress, carefully flattening out any creases.
“Yes, that’s right. In a small town about four hours from here. Filming starts in three weeks,” I tell her with a soft smile. She’s probably been the only person tonight who isn’t insufferable to be around.
Well, her, the bartender, and the love of my life, but I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off at my table.
He’s probably already forgotten about my existence.
“You lucky thing. Cole Green is a handsome boy,” she replies, using her hands to fan her face. The room is cool, but she still has tiny beads of sweat on her upper lip.
“So I’ve heard.” Nodding, I take a sip of my watered-down vodka, scrunching my nose up at the burn as it slides down the back of my throat.
“Oh, good! It’s about to start. I bet Mara wins best lead actor for her work inHeavy Hearts.” She claps her hands together, turning her attention to the stage, and suddenly forgetting all about my existence.
We watch as announcers come out, reading the names of the nominees off the cards they hold in their fingertips, and the winners come to collect their statue. Every person on that stagedressed with impeccable taste, or stylists that should’ve been fired a long time ago.
There’s no in between.
“Here’s her category,” I tell Dorothy, who averts her attention from the stage to the big screen in front of us. She heard me, but she doesn’t acknowledge me while her knee bounces against mine.
“And the winner for best lead actress is… Mara Scott!” The crowd all rises to their feet with applause, every set of eyes on her as she makes her way to the stage. Her number one fan beside me cheers her heart out.
“Wow, what an honor,” Mara says breathlessly, with a widespread smile across her face. She thanks the entire cast and crew for the parts they played inHeavy Hearts, and the audience hangs on to her every word. “Lastly, I just want to thank my leading man, Derrick Chaplin. What an incredible experience it was to play a badass woman by your side.” She raises her metallic blue man into the air for everyone to see, and heads to the back of the stage.
“What a talent,” Dorothy says after her applause slowly ends and we each sit back down in our seats. I shake my now numb hands, finally free of her grip. “I hear she has a little fling with most of her on screen lovers.” She wiggles her brows at me, and I chuckle.
We spend the next two hours watching people give and receive awards. The host tells bad jokes about women and how they don’t belong on a man’s stage, which receives a mix of applause and boos. The announcer calls last drinks from the bar, sending a flock of people rushing to get their fix.
I remain seated as I watch people desperately trying to refill their glass, while I take my phone out to alert the driver that I’m ready to be picked up.
“Are you ready to get out of here?”
I hear his voice before I see his face. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, my body stiffening as the warmth from his body radiates into my back.
I slide my phone back into my clutch.
Did he actually mean what he said earlier?
Goosebumps dance over every single inch of my skin, putting on the performance of a lifetime, while Dorothy elbows my ribs with a wide grin slapped on her face.
“Seriously?” I ask, turning to face the tall, sexy as hell, mysterious stranger, shocked that he actually came back to find me.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He extends his hand for me to take. His fingers wiggle their invitation for mine, with the other tucked behind his back as if to say, ‘I’m a gentleman, asking his lady to dance.’
“Well…no, I guess not.” I feel my lips tug up at the sides in amusement. Turning back to face my table, I hesitate briefly before the words ‘fuck it’float freely through my head, and I collect my clutch.
Opening it one last time, I triple-check to make sure my belongings are where they’ve been all night, then sling the chain strap over my shoulder and turn around to take his hand, which is still waiting for me. “Where too, Mr…?” I ask, hoping he gives me some sort of name. Anything at all, but he chuckles and shakes his head instead.
“No names tonight.” He intertwines our fingers, leading the way toward the foyer and elevators where ques are slowly forming.
