Eye Candy

“What about a prince and princess theme?” Gwendolyn suggests.

“Oh! That’s a great idea!” Amie claps her hands excitedly.

I try to hold back my snort of disbelief. One that indicates I do not agree with her enthusiastic response to this horrible idea. I don’t for a second believe that Amie wants to dress up like a princess for Halloween. Why don’t I buy her reaction? Because during our first year of college we managed to score fake IDs proclaiming we were of legal age to drink.

There was a Halloween party at a bar downtown and Amie, also having Daddy’s credit card in her back pocket, decided we needed to dress up. And dress up we did. She went as a dominatrix, which really means she just went out and bought very expensive, very leathery lingerie. And a whip. I went as a zombie bride, before zombies were all the rage. Guess who got all the phone numbers that night. Not me.

Guess who also had to explain the thousand-dollar credit card bill from a fetish store. Again, not me.

The following year she went as an angel. In lingerie. The year after that she went as a wood nymph. In lingerie. There’s clearly a trend here. So while Amie pretends to be excited about dressing up in layers of tulle and satin, she’s really thinking about what kind of garters she can pair with her newest corset. I have to wonder if Armstrong has ever experienced Amie in her garter glory and whether he’s capable of appreciating it.

I try to wear lingerie with Bane, but he gets overzealous and often destroys it in the process of its removal. The other night when I was dressed as an evil fairy is a case in point. That costume is now in need of a few repairs. But God that sex was hot. I would like to have more of that. Preferably soon.

I tune back in to the conversation in time to hear Mimi suggest princesses throughout history. I have no desire to drown in a dress. I raise my hand, as if we’re in school, then realize I don’t need to be addressed before I speak. “That might be a little narrow. What if we made it famous couples throughout history.”

Gwendolyn makes a face. “That’s actually a very good idea.” She sounds rather surprised that I could have one of those.

“That way we’re not confined to royalty. We can choose any famous couple.” Like Bonnie and Clyde. The more notorious the better. “They could even be fictional.”

“Like Romeo and Juliet!” Mimi proclaims.

“Exactly.” I think Romeo is a wishy-washy douche and Juliet ends up dying for nothing, but I love that Mimi is referencing Shakespeare when we’re planning a Halloween party.

“This is just going to be so much fun!” Mimi gives me a side hug. “I’m so glad Amalie introduced you to my son. If you have any other girlfriends with enough spunk to tame Lexington, I would love to meet them.”

I laugh. Amie smiles as she watches us, but I can see the strain in her eyes. It makes me sad that her soon-to-be mother-in-law is such a cold fish.

Mimi’s excitement is contagious, despite Gwendolyn’s nearly constant poo-poo attitude toward almost every aspect of the soirée. It appears they’ve decided to inject themselves fully into planning the event. Which, in reality, isn’t terrible. Both Amie and I have full-time jobs, and party planning has been theirs for years. Eventually we move to the dining room when we’re called in for dinner, but the conversation continues to revolve around the Halloween party. It becomes more and more grand as the discussion continues.

I have no idea how they expect to pull this off in only three weeks, but it seems like it’s spiraling out of control in terms of size and grandeur. I wonder if this is what planning the wedding has been like for Amie. If so, I can definitely understand why she’s not more excited. And her excessive need for yoga. And her lack of orgasms. It makes me sad.

Lex, who’s seated on the opposite side of the table, has been relatively quiet. Other than our bartending extravaganza in the kitchen, he made himself scarce until we sat for dinner. Although, I’ve been busy with the soirée planning, so maybe he’s been around the entire time and I just didn’t notice.

Since we’ve sat down, Lex and Armstrong seem to be having a stare-down contest. Armstrong’s arm has been slung across the back of Amie’s chair possessively, like he feels the need to protect her. From what, I have no idea.

Meanwhile, Bancroft has been trying to get his hand up my skirt. It’s distracting, but enjoyable.

Mimi is three glasses of wine in, and her voice grows louder with each sip. “I have another idea!” She waits until she has everyone’s attention. “I think we should have a bachelor auction.”

That gets a round of groans from her sons.

“What?” Mimi waves her hand around, giant diamonds flashing in the chandelier lighting. “It’s a wonderful idea. We raised almost a quarter of a million dollars for charity last time.”

“It was excellent publicity,” Fredrick, Armstrong’s father, agrees.

“Who’s going to be up for auction? There’s no one eligible at this table,” Bancroft squeezes my thigh, his pinkie sliding under the hem of my dress for the five-millionth time. My vagina is going to explode before we get home.

“Except for Lexington,” Armstrong adds with a smirk. “How much did your date pay at the last one? Was it twenty or thirty thousand?”

Lex taps on the table. “It was fifty. What was it you got? Fifteen?”

That wipes the smirk off Armstrong’s face and puts one on mine.

“It was twenty-five,” he says irritably. “Who did you take out again? Wasn’t it the Firestone girl? I hope she got her money’s worth.”

Lex’s grin spreads slow across his face. “I believe she did. I think she called me, hmm, what was it again?” He taps his lip. “Very charitable. She said I was worth every last penny.”

“Lexington!” Mimi chastises.

His expression morphs into wide-eyed innocence. “What? If a woman is going to donate fifty thousand dollars to charity on my behalf, I’m going to be an exceptionally attentive date.”

“Especially if she’s hot,” Bane mutters, but not quietly enough. I elbow him in the side.

“Bancroft!” Mimi purses her lips and gives him a hard look.

I clasp my hands together and rest my chin on my knuckles. “If I wasn’t already dating Bane I’d donate fifty thousand to charity for a date with you, Lex.”

That dimpled grin makes another appearance. All the Mills boys have killer smiles. “Thanks, Ruby.”

Bancroft’s fingers tighten around my thigh. He leans in close and whispers in my ear. “Don’t stroke his ego.”

“It’s too bad you can’t be auctioned this year, Bane. You always fetch a pretty penny.” Gwendolyn sighs and then turns a strangely disdainful grimace on Lex. “At least we have you. We’ll just have to find a few more gentlemen to participate. What about that Williamson boy, he did well last year, didn’t he—nothing like your boys, Mimi, but well enough.”