Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
I squinted at a stunning blonde near the fountain. “Is that Billy Joel’s wife?”
“Sophie, can I take your coat?”
I turned to see another stunning blonde, who I nearly didn’t recognize. The only thing that gave her away was the gleaming silver necklace she’d borrowed from my mom.
“Penny! You look amazing!” I took her hands and held them out from her sides to examine her. The dress she wore was as nineteen-nineties as the necklace, more a sleek, form fitting tube of black velvet than a gown. Her bobbed hair was sculpted away from her face in a look that wasn’t quite slicked back, but definitely skirted that line. Her makeup was flawless, and her eyes weren’t red from crying, which was important; she and her boyfriend, Neil’s college buddy Ian, had broken up at Thanksgiving, and she was still taking it exceptionally hard. I scanned the room, looking for age-appropriate men I could hook her up with. Then again, maybe hooking her up with an age-inappropriate man before meant I wasn’t allowed to hook her up with anybody, anymore.
She reached up to self-consciously touch her hair. “You don’t think it’s a little too Sharon-Stone-in-Basic-Instinct?”
“Oh, it definitely is, but that’s not a bad thing.” In fact, it might be a look we’d want to explore in an upcoming issue. I was digging the early 90’s femme fatale vibe.
“Your phone?” Neil reminded me quietly, handing Penny his coat. As glam as she was tonight, she was on the clock.
“Right, my phone.” I reached into my purse and handed my cell to her. “Purse can get checked with the coat, I don’t care, but keep my phone on you, okay?”
“It wouldn’t have killed you to take one night off, darling,” Neil said tersely and under his breath.
I gave him a pass because he was nervous.
He was right, though. I could have just left my phone at home, because there was never a down time to check it. The bars were open, hot hors d’oeuvres were on offer, and waiters circulated with the cold ones. Everyone wanted to talk to the man they would be throwing their money at later, but Neil managed to break away from the schmoozing for a minute to take me for a turn around the floor with the other couples dancing to the accompaniment of the band.
“Sophie!”
I turned to see my best friend, Holli, dragging her wife, my business partner, Deja, across the dance floor. A standout as always, Holli wore a floor-length dress of amethyst organza, the deep neckline plunging from the halter back to the thick sequined band at her natural waist.
“So, that’s why you needed the double-sided tape,” I said, gesturing to her chest as she approached. “I hope you really battened down the hatches.”
“It’s not like a titty’s going to just flop out,” she grumbled, self-conscious as always about her flat chest. “But, yes, everything is secure. I won’t embarrass the Englishman.”
“Good. Because he’s worried enough as it is.” I glanced over to where Neil stood with two other dudes in tuxedos. They were all laughing loudly at something I would probably not find terribly funny.
I was so glad Holli and Deja were there to hang out with me.
Deja had already shown me the dress she’d planned to wear, since it had been delivered via courier just days ago. It was a black Ziad Nakad gown with a starched, structured boat-neck top that angled into points of fabric above her shoulders. The bodice was detailed with flashes of gold, and the skirt clung to her legs and ass like Catwoman’s suit before flaring out into a wide skirt from her knees. “Holy shit, you look amazing!”
“I told you I could make it work,” She said, tossing the half-bob on the side of her head she hadn’t shaved, yet.
“So, is this open bar?” Holli asked with an impatient wiggle. “Cash bar?”
“Open. This is more of a ‘thank you for your money’ party than a ‘give us your money’ party.” I frowned. “No, wait. It’s kind of both.”
“‘Thank you for your money, now give us more of it, but here’s free booze?’” Deja suggested, and I laughed.
Even though gala fundraisers weren’t exactly my choice of party, with my friends there, it wasn’t so bad. I got a little break from being the trophy wife, every now and then, and they kept me apprised of which celebrities were there. They were also awesome about stepping back and giving me space when Neil did need me on his arm, whether to introduce me to someone or to bring me into a conversation with an important donor. When those obligations were fulfilled, there were Holli and Deja, waiting to get back to partying.
While Holli and I were dancing to a big-band version of Hot Chocolate’s “You Sexy Thing”—Neil seriously needed to fire whoever had been in charge of entertainment for the evening—Deja skidded up to us and whispered, “Courtney Cox just went into the ladies’ room!”