Eileen may be a beta, butfuckit’s impossible to say ‘no’ to her.
I heave a sigh of defeat, and her eyes shine with glee.
“Okay, okay. I’ll go.”
Chapter 49
JAMIE
It’s the night of the party, and I almost throw up in the rideshare on the way over. I want to say it’s from the car’s combination of stale cigarette smoke and too-strong air freshener, but it’s probably also nerves.
The driver lets me out at a tasteful new building right across from the city’s biggest park, and I tentatively step up to the door. There’s a prominently placed keypad, so I punch in the code from the invitation.
The door lets out aclickas it unlocks, so I push inside to a hall lined with more doors, each with a number. The invitation said to go to door ten, so I punch in another code to enter that door. Through a small hallway is something between a lobby and a living room, complete with rich green walls, black antique leather sofas, and vintage bronze lighting.
This room has no windows, and on the other side is a set of brass doors. Should I… keep going?
I stand there awkwardly, wishing I’d had the luck of walking in with some other guests. But maybe it’s for the best—I’m too anxious for small talk right now.
The brass doors rattle and slide open, revealing an elevator car—and Eileen.
“There you are!” She scurries over and gives me a hug.
“Sorry I’m late—traffic.”
“No problem at all.”
“Is this… a private elevator? And a dedicated waiting room?”
“Yep,” Eileen says with a conspiratorial grin.
“What kind of venueisthis?”
“Oh, this is Morgan’s apartment.”
“Wait,what?”
“Yeah, you’ve got to see this.” She grabs my hand and pulls me into the elevator.
It’s clearly a custom job, with quilted leather panels on the walls and the floor tiled with green and black marble.
The doors open again, and we step out into a wood-paneled entryway that leads into a sweeping penthouse apartment.
I feel like I just stepped into a movie: slim-fitting dresses with daring cutouts, workwear-inspired high-fashion, and though I do see one person wearing a sweater, it’s emblazoned with a designer logo.
Eileen at leastlookslike she fits in with her pink tweed Chanel pantsuit. And I suppose I do too, thanks to her.
I absolutely refuse to think about the last time I wore this suit.
We step out of the entryway and walk past a sitting room packed with chattering guests, continuing to the dining room. Over a grand dining table of rich live-edged hardwood hangs a chandelier resembling an abstract rendering of little golden fish swimming in a river of light. A mixologist whirls behind the built-in bar just beyond the dining room, lighting a sprig of rosemary on fire before placing it in a smoking cloche to infuse acocktail.
Nearby, a magician pulls a whole deck of cards out from behind a guest’s ear, and behind him is an arrangement of golden cages of different sizes, each housing a live parrot.
Eileen leads me to the bar, where I get a fruity cocktail that comes bubbling with dry ice, and she gets a smoked whiskey sour from the cloche.
“How bad does it sound to say… I didn’t think Morgan would have this many friends?” I whisper to Eileen as she leads me out into a massive open-concept space. On the far side is a wall of windows with an incredible view of the nighttime city glittering below. On the near side, a live string quartet plays pop covers.
“Oh, she doesn’t,” Eileen says once we get past the quartet. “That’s why I needed backup. These are mostly acquaintances. But there are a few…” She scans the room, then points to a group near the window. “There. Those are actually Morgan’s friends.”
