It was the first time in my life I remember feeling jealous. Truly and utterly jealous. Not of him, but of everyone in the room he looked at and touched as if it were nothing.
I didn’t want to acknowledge these shallow feelings, but I was only human, imperfect in more ways than I’d ever understood. And I’d been burying my emotions, lying to myself for so long that it felt normal. Only now, being there in that room made me realize how tainted I was on the inside.
So what are you going to do about it?
It was a question I put out of my head for another day, because when the lights dimmed and the loud, pounding techno music started, my mind transported to another world. Gorgeous, tall women with long slender bodies floated past me in twenty-thousand-dollar, hand-beaded dresses worthy of the Oscars, Cannes, or any other glamourous event. Before I blinked, it was over.
Like I said, ice cream. Sweet. Delicious. Never enough.
After the models concluded their sassy struts, Maxwell Cole joined Babs on the stage. The crowd roared, cheered, and clapped. A million bulbs flashed, lighting up the room in a constant stream of lightning bolts.
Maxwell Cole put his arm around Babs, a middle-aged woman with a kind face, but no glamor queen herself, especially standing next to the enigmatic Mr. Cole. He then looked down at me and winked.
I had a fan-girl moment, remembering the first time I’d seen a picture of him in a magazine. It had made my heart race with gnawing need, like how a girl feels the first time she goes to a rock concert and sees her idol on stage. It’s a sort of all-consuming, magical attraction at a very primal level.
The show ended, and while I waited for Mr. Cole by the limo, I got to chat with Keri’s boyfriend—a very handsome black guy with a super cute smile who’d actually gotten the job through Mr. Cole. I wondered how he and Keri made it work since he was based out of New York. I guess when people are in love, they just make it work. I wondered what that felt like: “making it work no matter what.” Would I ever get to love someone that much?
Finally, Mr. Cole said his goodbyes to a few more people standing around outside, and I got into the backseat ahead of him.
“Wow,” I said. “That was fun. Thank you for taking me to this.”
He glanced at me. “You’re welcome,” he said, sounding shocked by my gratitude. Had I really been acting like such an ungrateful turd that a thank you was a rare thing? I’d need to try harder.
“Well, now I know why you were smiling earlier. You looked like you really enjoyed it.”
“I do. I especially enjoy knowing that we’ll be getting great publicity from this event, which costs me almost nothing, but will help us sell a billion dollars of makeup next quarter.” He glanced at me. “But that wasn’t why I was smiling earlier.”
Hmmm… “Okay. Don’t keep me in suspense, Mr. Cole.”
“I think it’s best that I do. I wouldn’t want to sour your evening.”
Of course, that only got my wheels turning faster. “You’re evil.”
“I prefer shrewd and calculating.” His voice hinted at humor, but I wasn’t sure. “Speaking of, you’ll be meeting two very important customers tonight. One is Franco Morrano, the other is Krissy Walters, the head of purchasing for Libby Loo.”
Wow. Okay, so Libby Loo was this really fantastic retail chain for older teens and twenty-somethings, sort of like an H&M, but less messy. Franco Morrano was the CEO of makeitless.com the biggest online makeup website in the world. I knew because I bought stuff there all the time for their discounts.
“Oh no,” I said. “I didn’t have time to prepare anything.”
“There’s nothing to prepare. You smile, shake hands, pay a few compliments, and then tell them you’ll call next week to book time on their calendars in one month.”
Okay. That sounded easy. “Sure. No problem.” And it would give me something to do at this party, where I’d surely feel a little awkward.
“And word of warning, Miss Snow?” The limo pulled up to some hotel I didn’t know. The red carpet swarmed with photographers.
“Yes?” I asked as the door opened and he got out, bending down to quietly warn me.
“Franco gets a little free with his hands when he drinks. Steer clear of him later on.”
“Is he cute?” I said, completely joking. Mr. Cole’s eyes told me he did not find that funny.
Okay… I exited the limo as gracefully as I could, hanging back a little as the press had their fill of Maxwell Cole from behind the ropes.
Our limo pulled away and another pulled up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blonde in a bright red dress step out.
Holy sacred fashion cow. It was Adeline Taylor. Supermodel turned actress. The moment she hit the carpet, the photographers started splitting up, going after her. Then she walked right toward me. I was a little starstruck and didn’t know what to do.
“Excuse me?” she said with a snotty tone.
Oh. I was standing in her way? No. I wasn’t. But the woman could move one foot and go around me.
I gave her a look but didn’t move. She rolled her eyes and then glared as she went around, pasting on a fake-as-hell smile the moment she laid eyes on Mr. Cole.
“Max, baby!” she squealed, which got his attention. He turned and seemed extremely happy to see her, taking her hand immediately and placing a kiss on the top. Meanwhile, the photographers moved their attention to the next celebrity, an Italian actor, I think. Honestly, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Mr. Cole as he leaned in, saying something to the woman that made her burst out laughing. They then walked on ahead, leaving me trailing behind like an invisible pet.
Wow. Well, at least I knew where I stood with him, right?
I put on my work hat and lifted my chin. I wasn’t pretty, but I had self-esteem. And healthy eating habits. So there.
Once inside the packed, dimly lit ballroom buzzing with lights and loud music, I searched for Mr. Cole, but couldn’t see him.
Great. Thanks for leaving me all aloneat the most intimidating party in the world. I made my way to the bar and grabbed a glass of champagne. Sipping slowly, standing on the edge of the crowded room and feeling like a duck out of water, I watched the people flowing in. Some were dressed a bit more casual than others, but everyone looked fabulous. And so uptight. Weren’t they here to have fun? Or was this really all just an excuse to get some publicity? There were photographers everywhere, like ants at a picnic.
“Lily?” I heard a strange man’s voice.
I turned and found a short older gentleman, handsome with black hair and a lopsided smile, staring at me.
“Yes?”
He extended his hand. “I’m Franco Morrano. Max said I’d find you over here. He said, ‘She’s the blonde in the sexy black dress with the tight body.’”
My eyes flared, and I nearly spit out my bubbly. “Sorry?” No way would my boss say something like that. Would he? I looked over my shoulder and then the other. I still didn’t see Mr. Cole anywhere.
Franco snorted. “He wasn’t lying. You look…pretty nice. Let’s go dance.”
“Um…” Shit. From the subtle happiness and slur in his voice, I could tell he’d already been drinking. I wondered how much time I had before his magic hands would make an appearance and I’d have to go hide in the bathroom.
“Well, I think I need another drink first. I’m not much of a dancer.”
“I gotcha!” He snagged two glasses as a waiter just happened to float by with a tray. For the next forty minutes, I watched Franco pound down the champagne while he talked to me about online consumer trends and shopping habits. He mentioned that he’d been fighting with Mr. Cole about the fact that they never had enough product to sell at a discount. I tried to keep the convo light and casual since I wasn’t up to speed on any of the issues. I only knew that Franco’s company moved a few million dollars of product for C.C. each year.