Then, I go over to the individual tables to make sure our clients’ place cards are in the right spots, because “thorough” is my middle name. Actually, it’s Dawn, and I’ve always hated it.
I shoot a quick text over to Luke that simply says: Seating is correct.
Once the cocktail hour is over, I walk with Bailey from the greenroom toward the ballroom. Everyone is already inside, including River, and the gala is about to start.
“Tell me River looked terrible,” she says as we walk, her heels making clicking noises on the glossy tile floor.
“Oh yeah. He looks terrible. Totally hideous,” I lie.
Thank goodness he looks substantially different in person than he does on my television screen, because, like the rest of the world, I have developed quite the crush on Kaelric.
Bailey lets out a weary breath, stopping just before the open doors of the ballroom, the sound of chatter and the clinking of silverware drifting out into the foyer.
I stop with her. “Are you okay?” I ask, lightly touching her arm.
“No,” she says, giving me a thin smile.
“You just need to eat dinner, talk to the others at your table, smile when the camera is on you, and that’s it.”
She places a hand on her stomach, steadying herself. “I haven’t been in the same room with him in weeks.”
“I know,” I say. “And tonight you just have to be in the same room. You don’t have to talk to him, look at him, or acknowledge he exists. You just have to be Bailey Lockhart, the darling of Wooster.”
She smiles. “Thanks, Claire. Simone would have just told me to suck it up.”
“Yes, she would,” I chuckle. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Two hours later, after dinner, a performance by John Legend, and an awards ceremony, I’m standing on Bailey’s side of the room, leaning up against the wall, exhausted and wishing this evening would just end already, when I get a text from Luke.
Jerkwad:Your client is fidgeting
He gives me a smirk from across the ballroom, and I look over at Bailey, who is currently trying to adjust the top part of her dress.
She’s probably ridiculously uncomfortable in that getup, having to sit there so long. We’re currently listening to Gerald Marsh, the foundation’s chair, who has been thanking everyone by name for the past twenty minutes.
I text back.
Me:I saw your client pick his nose earlier
Jerkwad:That was just a scratch!
I look up from my phone to see him smiling at me. I twist my lips, trying not to smile back.
Me:Sure
Jerkwad: If Gerald starts thanking the hotel staff, I’m starting a riot
Me:That would not bode well for your client, so you should definitely do it.
I watch him type back, his head dipped slightly, thumb moving across the screen, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Jerkwad:The headlines would say “River Rhodes’s very hot PR guy causes uproar atgala”
Me:Very hot?
I send him one of those questioning emojis. The one with the monocle.
Jerkwad:You’re right. Extremely hot.
