A Winter Dream

Chapter


Twenty


The spider has spun her web.

Joseph Jacobson’s Diary





The company Christmas party was held at a 10,000-square-foot mansion in the Kenilworth suburb of Chicago—the home of Leo Burnett Chicago’s CEO, Mr. Grant. As we drove through the massive iron gates and up the cobblestone driveway, the lane looked like the sales lot of a luxury car dealership. It was filled with shiny Lamborghinis, Bentleys, Aston-Martins, Porsches, BMWs, Mercedeses, and Cadillacs. Parked near the front door was Mr. Grant’s bright orange Maserati.

“Nice place,” the driver said.

“Yeah.” I handed him two twenties.

“Call me if you need a ride back,” he said, handing me his card.

I walked up to the giant carved-oak doors, which were decorated with oversized Christmas wreaths adorned with gold and ivory ribbons and baubles.

One of the knickered valets opened the door for me as I approached. “Welcome,” he said. “Have a good evening.”

I mumbled, “Thank you.”

My senses were flooded by the home’s ambience. The home was gaily lit, and the powerful fragrance of cinnamon, peppermint and clove filled the foyer. Christmas trees lined the entryway walls like a forest, and the stair railing was wrapped in fresh garland twinkling with gold Christmas lights. In a small, open room off the foyer, a string quartet accompanied by a pianist on an electric piano played Pachelbel’s Canon in D. I listened to them for a moment, then panned the rest of the room for the bar. I desperately needed a drink.

I spotted Timothy standing near a buffet table. I started to make my way to him but was stopped by Peter, who was wearing his signature black silk tee beneath an all-silver suit, iridescent as fish scales. Brandi was holding on to his arm. She was even more stunning than usual, wearing a sheer, low-cut gown, tight at the waist with a slit in front exposing her long, slender legs. Both of them were carrying stemmed glasses half-full of white wine. From Peter’s inebriated glow I could tell he’d started drinking long before my arrival.

“Hey, J.J.J,” Peter said. “Where’s your date?”

“She’s not here,” I said.

“We can see that,” Peter said.

“She couldn’t make it.”

Brandi cocked her head. “Aww, that’s sad.”

I ignored her molesting eyes. “How’s the party?”

“Good booze,” Peter said, eyeing two women as they walked past us. “See you.”

Brandi smiled at me as he pulled her away. “Ciao.”

A butler walked up to me. “May I take your coat, sir?”

“Sure.” I took it off and handed it to him. He ascended the circular staircase with my coat draped over his arm. Timothy had disappeared, but I saw Kim standing next to the buffet table in the dining room.

The long, rectangular table was crowded with the most decadent spread I had ever seen: shrimp and crab bowls, sushi, pâté de foie gras, little cream pastries, hand-dipped chocolates, meringues, cherry-topped macaroons and at least six different tarts. In the center of the table was an ice sculpture of our agency’s initials, set between two thick red candles.

“Hi, Kim,” I said.

She looked relieved to see me. “Joseph. When did you get here?”

“Just now.”

“Where’s April?”

“She couldn’t make it,” I said, trying to hide the emotion in my voice. “Something came up.”

“She’s missing out,” Kim said. “Grab a plate. The food’s fantastic.”

Even though I wasn’t hungry, I took a plate and began filling it with food.

“Are you okay?” Kim asked.

“My father holds a Christmas party this same night,” I said. “This is the first time in sixteen years I won’t be attending.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

Just then a man I didn’t know walked up to her and she turned to talk to him. I drifted to another room with a Strass crystal chandelier and ivory carpets and a grand piano. Sade and Chloe were seated near the doorway, drinking and laughing. Kate was standing next to her boyfriend, who was playing a Billy Joel song on the piano.

“J.J.!” Chloe said. “Come visit us.” She sounded a little tipsy.

“Hey, J.J.,” Kate said.

“Hi, Kate.”

“This is my boyfriend, Clark.” He nodded a little, in time with the music.

“Look,” Sade said, holding a sprig of parsley from the buffet table. “Mistletoe.”

“What are you drinking?” I asked.

“Eggnog.”

“Very strong eggnog,” Chloe said.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” Sade said.

“Sure.” I gave her a quick peck.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Kate asked.

“She bailed on me,” I said.

She looked at me sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll be your girlfriend tonight,” Chloe said.

“Chloe,” Sade said sharply. “Stop it. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” she said. “And you’re the one who got a kiss.”

“I think it’s time for me to go,” I said.

Kate nodded in agreement, shaking her head at Chloe.

“Oh, don’t go,” Chloe said.

I kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry.” I said to Clark, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Merry Christmas,” I said to everyone, then walked out of the room. I left my plate of untouched food on a small end table. I found the taxi driver’s card in my pocket and called. The taxi was only ten minutes out, so I started looking around for the coat man. When I couldn’t find him, I walked upstairs to retrieve my coat myself.

The coats were laid out on the carpeted floor of a massive bedroom at the top of the stairway, with a dozen or so furs layered on top of each other across the bed. There were at least a hundred coats and finding mine wasn’t as simple as I thought it would be.

As I foraged through a pile of coats, Brandi walked into the room.

“Hi, J.J.,” she said. She carried two glasses of wine. “Would you like a drink?” She sounded a little drunk, which didn’t surprise me.

“No thank you.”

“Oh, come on. I brought it for you.”

I looked past her to the door. “Where’s Peter?”

“Who cares?” she said. She shut the door with her hip. “Have your drink.”

I looked at her warily. “I was just looking for my coat. I’ve got to go. My cab’s on its way.”

“And leave me here all by my lonesome?” She took a few more steps toward me. “I don’t want to be alone. C’mon, Joseph. Just drink with me. It’s Christmas.”

“I can’t,” I said.

“Can’t or won’t.”

“Both,” I said. “You’re engaged to Peter.”

“We’re not doing anything wrong.” She took a sip of her wine and smiled. “At least not yet. You can feel guilty later.”

“Peter’s my friend. He trusts me.”

“Peter’s not your friend. And why do you keep bringing him up? I don’t see him in here.” She took another step closer and set her glass on the nightstand. She dipped her finger in the other wineglass and held it up to my lips. “Try it. It’s delicious.”

“Brandi, don’t.”

She sucked the wine off her own finger. “Do you know how many men want me?”

“Millions.”

“But not you? Are you one in a million, Mr. Joseph Jacobson? You don’t want me?”

“I want Mr. Grant’s Maserati, but I’m not going to steal it.”

“You don’t have to steal it,” she said. “You can just take it for a ride.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “And you just compared me to a car.” She smiled seductively. “Are you objectifying me, Mr. J.J.?”

“I’m just saying that I don’t take what’s not mine.”

“You are objectifying me. You see me as someone’s possession.” A broad smile crossed her face. “Don’t worry, I like being objectified.” She set the second glass down on the nightstand. “I may be an object, but I’m not anyone’s possession. I am free to give myself to whomever I choose.” She pointed at me. “And, right now, I choose you.”

“Brandi, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. If I were drunk, I would have done something really crazy, like ripped open my dress. Like this.” She grabbed the top of her dress and pulled it open, exposing her brassiere. “Then I would have just thrown myself at you. Like this.” She pulled me on top of her over a padding of fur coats. “We should do it on mink.”

“We’re not doing anything,” I said, pushing away from her.

“Yes we are.”

At that moment the door opened. “Brandi?” Peter stood in the doorway staring at us, trying to figure out what he was seeing. “What are you doing?” His words were slurred.

Brandi immediately started pushing me away. “Stop it! Get off of me!” As I stood, she looked over at Peter. “Your employee attacked me.” She pointed to her breast. “Look, he ripped my dress.”

“That’s not what happened,” I said.

Peter charged up to me, his face red with fury. “You son of a—” His fist crashed against my jaw, knocking me back.

“Peter, stop it,” I said. “She came after me.”

“Liar!” Brandi shouted. “He tried to rape me.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Don’t talk to my woman like that,” Peter shouted, swinging wildly. I didn’t fight back. Instead, I just put my arms up to protect myself. Still, he knocked me to the ground.

“Peter. I didn’t do anything.”

“You stay there,” he shouted, pointing at me with a trembling finger. “You stay there, you lying . . .” He stopped as if unable to find a suitable word to describe me.

I just looked up at him from the floor.

Brandi stood behind him, grabbing his arms and staring hatefully at me. “Thank goodness you came when you did.”

“Peter, it wasn’t me,” I said. “You know it.”

“Shut up,” Peter said. “Just shut up.”

Then I saw him wipe his eyes. He knew I was telling the truth. He had to know I was telling the truth.

The two of them walked out. I still couldn’t find my coat, so I left without it. I grabbed a handful of snow outside and held it to my jaw as I got into the cab.

“You okay?” the driver asked.

“Best night of my life,” I said.