The podium stood shorter than I imagined and as I pulled the microphone toward me, I glanced around the room. Food was being ushered out to the tables and I knew my time was limited. So with sweaty palms I gripped the wooden sides of the stand and spoke. But before long my attention was taken elsewhere and I paused. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted her as soon as she entered the room. Her red hair flowed past her shoulders and her tight green dress seemed to hug her body in all the right places. I made a mental note that she seemed to wear green a lot. It looked good on her. I realized I’d stalled and I cleared my throat.
I glanced across the many faces in the room and found hers again immediately. Her mouth took on a scowl as she took notice of me watching her and then she quickly turned away. But it didn’t take long until I scanned the room for her again. She was pointing to a number of trays on a table and directing where she wanted them. The more I watched her, the faster my heart beat. Words spilled mindlessly from my mouth as my ears rung from the thudding echoing in them. When I shifted my gaze to follow her movement, I noticed some of the women dabbing their napkins under their eyes. I could only assume my heartfelt words had moved them. But when I saw S’belle pick up one of the black linen napkins and do the same, the thought that she’d listened to my speech for some reason rather than tuning me out—it took my breath away. I finished my speech.
My last words came out softly as the syllables caught in my throat. Applause reverberated through the grand ballroom and I closed my eyes for a few moments absorbing everything. When I opened them a grin crossed my lips. But my smile wasn’t for the strangers who surrounded me or even for my friends before me. It was for the red-headed girl in the back of the room whose gaze kept flickering over mine.
As I exited the stage holding tightly to the award in my hand, I took the steps one at a time and kept my eyes focused on her. With each step I took I couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were locked on mine . . . green to blue. In them I saw a reflection from so long ago, of a memory I’ve never forgotten. And although I wasn’t available to her the first time we met, and I wasn’t in the right mind space the second time we met, I think everything is different now. And I can honestly say . . . the future has never looked brighter.
Find out what’s next for Ben and Bell in FRAYED, available from NAL September 2014, and keep reading for a special preview!
The sign behind the bar reads:
WANTED . . .
That crystal ashtray you filched.
The monogrammed towels you toted off in your suitcase.
Those Scottish-made linen napkins you pocketed.
If you took any of these items in the last seventy-five years . . .
We would like them back.
PLEASE!
Resting my elbows on the slick surface of the bar, I gesture to the sign.
The bartender shrugs. “Don’t ask me, I only serve the drinks.”
A cute cocktail waitress slinks up beside me and slides her drink order across the bar. While she waits she crooks a finger and bends toward me at such at angle that her ample cleavage spills out. My eyes naturally fall to it, but I quickly force them away when the bartender’s voice booms over to us loudly.
“Lucy, gin or vodka in the martini?” he asks her sternly.
“Vodka.” But she doesn’t let her gaze wander and crooks her finger at me yet again.
“Rumor has it that management is looking to open a museum,” she whispers in my ear.
I straighten and lift an eyebrow. “Interesting way to go about filling it.”
“They’re even willing to give recognition to anyone who returns the items.”
I raise my glass. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I can show you what they’ve collected so far if you’re interested. I have time to take a break before dinner is served.”
Her body language and the seductive tone of her voice tell me she’s offering more than a quick glance in a closet. I admit to contemplating the offer. The devil on my shoulder reminds me what a bittersweet day today is and that getting lost for a while doesn’t sound so bad. But another, stronger, voice declares that the days of needing to get lost in women are long behind me.