The Build Up

“Jamal, I need a drink, dear. Lead me to the bar,” Fiona said. Her phony accent was somewhere between Paris, France, and Paris, Texas. Just floating aimlessly and not really landing anywhere.

“Right. Good to see you guys. I’m going to go mingle and see if I can pass out some real estate cards. Houses won’t sell themselves,” said Jamal. “Remember, I handle all matters of real estate. Commercial and residential. Leasing and owning.” Without thinking, Jamal handed me another flashy gold business card to add to my growing collection. Before Jamal left, I saw him whisper something to Porter and hit him on the shoulder.

“What was that about?” I asked, curiously.

“It’s just Jamal being Jamal.”

I looked at him and tilted my head to the side. “Is that right?”

Porter smiled. “He just said ‘about damn time.’”

“About time? As in ‘about time’ we started dating?”

“I guess. Maybe he saw something between us that night at Hemingway’s.” Porter drew me close to him, putting his hand around my waist.

“And what was that?” I asked as I leaned back into him, his beard soft against my forehead.

“Kismet,” he coolly responded.

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He just stood there with this devilish smile on his face, knowing that I wasn’t in on his secret.

We made our way through the crowd and found our table. Eloise and Desmond both rose from their chairs when they saw us approach. Eloise kissed me warmly on the cheek. Desmond hugged me gently, squeezing my bare shoulders reassuringly.

“My dear, you’re simply radiant in this dress,” said Eloise.

“Indeed,” agreed Desmond. “A vision. A golden goddess, eh, PJ?”

Porter nodded. “Yes, a vision.” Porter pulled out my chair, and I sat down. I wiggled a bit, trying to catch a breath, but the double Spanx wasn’t letting up. It had a vise grip on my fupa.

“I’ll go grab us some drinks. Any requests?” Porter asked the table.

“I’ll take whatever white wine is available,” I said. Although truthfully, I wanted something stronger to calm my nerves. I’d been to plenty of fancy events. Some even with Korey. Truth be told, I’d usually agreed to go because I was there for the free booze and food. But this time, I was on the arm of someone I truly liked and cared about.

“You know me, son. A rum on the rocks,” said Desmond. Eloise shook her head, forgoing anything to drink.

She leaned over to me. “One of us must be sober and drive us home. Plus, with Todd, I’m too shaken up to drink.”

“I understand.” I smiled. I don’t think the nervousness had completely left my face because Eloise patted my hand.

“It’ll be fine. And again, thank you for taking care of PJ that night.”

“Oh please, don’t thank me. He’s my...friend.”

Eloise looked at me with a knowing smile. “Uh-huh. Friend,” she repeated.

“I hope Todd’s doing well,” I asked, eager to change the subject.

Eloise gave a small smile. “He is, dear. Physical therapy is going well. He’s taking it day by day. I think he’s going to be alright.”

I smiled. “I’m really glad.”

Our table slowly filled up with Eloise’s guests: the dean of the library and her husband. A couple of professors. One of Eloise’s college roommates. An art historian. Just like Thanksgiving, it was a very erudite table. Once everyone was seated, Eloise introduced me.

“Everyone. This is my son Porter’s colleague and girlfriend, Ari.”

Girlfriend? And here I was afraid to say “boyfriend.” Porter returned to the table with drinks in hand.

“What did I miss?” he whispered.

“Your mother introducing me as your girlfriend to her friends.”

Porter’s green eyes widened as he stammered. “Seriously? I can tell her that’s not cool. I just... But I mean...is that what you want?”

I tried my best to suppress a laugh but failed. Porter sounded like a nervous teenager, not a man in his forties.

“Porter. It’s fine. Really.”

Porter looked at me. His cheeks were flush, but his eyes danced in the soft candlelight of the room. “But you being my girlfriend does have a nice ring to it.”

I felt my hands shake and my breathing hasten. Before I could answer, I heard my name.

“Ari! I thought that was you! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming! You look fucking fabulous. Doesn’t she, Zach?”

It was Bella, who was at the table next to me with her husband, Zach, who was tugging at his bow tie uncomfortably. As a person who was on the homecoming court, Bella wore a modern off-the-shoulder ball gown in the school colors. With her hair in a tight chignon, she looked like Cinderella.

“Hi, Bella. Hi, Zach. This is Porter. My date for the evening,” I said, quickly running through introductions.

“Good to see you again, Porter,” said Bella. “Looking like you stepped off Savile Row!” She nodded her approval.

Porter blushed a bit as he nodded a quick thanks. I thought it was cute how Porter easily got embarrassed. I absolutely loved that about him.

Wait? Loved?

Zach and Porter shook hands. “So, you and Ari work together. That’s how you met, right?” I stared at Bella as she drank her glass of champagne and shrugged. So much for secrets between girlfriends.

“Yeah,” replied Porter. “We’ve grown closer these past few months.” I took a gulp of my white wine. Closer didn’t seem like the right word. It felt too small. I’d say we had grown more intimate. But you can’t just say “intimate” to your best friend and her husband without the sexual connotation. I suppose closer would have to do.

Bella interrupted. “Well, Porter, thank you for getting Ari to come to this. I’ve been trying to get her to come for years, and she just refuses. I guess you’ve given her a reason.”

“You know this isn’t my thing, Bella,” I said. “But this year, I have a good excuse to come. You know. The stadium project and all. Get the firm’s name out there.” I felt Porter’s hand move to the center of my back, where he traced what felt like hearts on my skin. I instantly felt warmth tugging at the deepest, most private center of myself.

“Cool,” said Zach. “Well, Bella dragged me to this thing. I don’t know why she insists on coming every year. It’s the same tired crowd. Old money alums berating new money ones and new money alums wishing they were old money.”

“I think it’s great networking! I can grow my event planning business and you can get new clients when you open your private practice. You know good and well half of this room needs a little nip and tuck,” chided Bella as she grabbed a glass of champagne as a waiter passed by. “Now, come on, Zach. I must find those wonderful mini crab cakes Lakitha was going on and on about. We will see you all later! I’ll text you later, girl!”

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