Page 6 of Xavier

"Wanna swap? I got Mrs. Rumsford."

"Hell, no. Anyway, it's not what's in my pants that's going to get that big fat check from her.” She laughs as I curse under my breath. "Go. Do good." She pats me on the arm just as someone calls her name; she turns and disappears in a cloud of orange blossoms and chiffon.

"First stop. The bar," I tell myself. I'm going to need a drink to get through the night.

"Xavier! Xavier, darling!" I hear my name called. Fuck. Mrs. Rumsford.

"Yes? I am Xavier, how can I help you?" I say, plastering a blank look on my face and holding out my hand to the older woman approaching me.

"Oh, silly Xavier. It's me, Charlotte,” she says.

"Oh. No, I know Charlotte Rumsford, you can't possibly be her. You must be her gorgeous daughter who I've heard so much about."

"Oh, shush," she chuckles, hitting me on the arm, but clearly happy to accept the blatant flattery. "But speaking of my daughter," she says, turning to the striking blonde standing next to her. "Xavier, this is Miranda. She's just made partner at Hellen and Gunn. And she's single."

"Oh, nice to meet you Miranda. Your mother's told me a lot about you," I say holding out my hand. "Are you having a good night so far?"

If there is such a thing as permanent bitch face, this woman has it. She takes my hand, gives it a limp shake, before sighing and brushing the hair off her shoulder.

She's stunning. I'll give her that. But what's the point if she knows it.

"I'll leave you two to chat," her mother tells us, her eyebrows doing a similar dance to Jade's just minutes before. "Come find me after, Xavier. For my donation," she says pointedly, as if the size of that donation is contingent on the success of my conversation with her bitch-faced daughter.

"So, can I get you a drink?"

"Champagne," Miranda tells me, with a voice that sounds as bored as I am with her.

I tip my chin to a passing waiter and pull two champagne flutes off his tray.

"You don't seem too happy to be here," I say, handing the glass to her.

The side of her mouth lifts into a sneer, making the whole illusion of her beauty turn ugly.

"Why should I be? I'm just here to make sure my mother doesn't sign off my inheritance to the first boy toy to tell her something like... how she looks so young, they thought she was her daughter."

Touché.

"It's actually for the ASH Foundation, to build some youth centers,” I say, though I don’t know why. Something tells me she hates charity even more than boy toys.

"Well, yeah, because everyone knows my mother likes them young."

It takes everything I have to not outwardly roll my eyes. As much as I wasn't looking forward to having to deal with the elder Rumsford woman, I'd have taken a whole night of her over this sour puss any day. I take a breath. For the kids, Xave, for the kids.

"So, how do you like them, then?" I ask, with every last ounce of charm I can muster.

"I don't. I'm single,” she says like a warning. She needn’t have bothered.

"So, I've heard."

"By choice."

"I don't doubt it for a second. Because that'd be my choice. Steering well fucking clear of you, Miss Rumsford. Have a good night." I raise my glass to her, enjoying the sight of her jaw dropped wide open, and leave.

The next hour or so isn't as bad as the first encounter, and I'm finding I'm starting to enjoy myself. Or maybe it’s that the champagne is working. By the time I make my way around the room and the bell dings for everyone to take their seats at their dinner tables, I'm finding the schmoozing is becoming easier, and the checks in my pocket are getting bigger.

"Table 3," Jade whispers to me as she rushes past me on her way to the stage. What a surprise, I think to myself, scanning my tablemates. A gay couple, three divorcées and a widow.

I'm going to need more champagne.