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“We turn now and wave, then head inside.” He practically has to yell for me to hear him over the shouts and questions that we’re apparently not answering.
And a moment later the din is shut outside. “Wow. I would hate to be famous if that’s what life is always like. You can never have a bad hair day, can you?”
Jackson laughs and gives my hand a squeeze. “You can, but everyone and their best friend will know about it. You did great.”
We’re greeted by the staff and escorted to the ballroom by two bodyguards. I spend the next hour being introduced to one influential person after another.
It doesn’t matter that I employ all the tricks I’ve learned over the years on how to remember people’s names, there are just so many new faces, and time and time again, he introduces me as his girlfriend. It’s all a bit overwhelming. And I worry that people are going to make assumptions about why I’m with him or think that I’m using him for his connections and wealth.
Just before we sit down for dinner, Jackson is approached by a couple who look to be in their early to mid-sixties. The woman gives me an assessing glance, one I’ve been on the receiving end of a few times this evening, although it’s usually from women closer to my age.
“Jackson, darling, it’s been too long. You haven’t been by for dinner in ages.” She air-kisses him on both cheeks.
“It’s been a busy last few months,” he replies.
“We need a round of golf soon, son. Martina is right, it’s been far too long. Are you traveling next week? We could arrange a brunch.”
“I’ve been spending a lot of time in Colorado lately. I’ll have to look at my schedule.”
“And who might your friend be?” The man nods in my direction.
“Excuse my poor manners. London, this is Frank and Martina Angelis. Frank and Martina, this is my girlfriend, London Spark.”
“Girlfriend? I didn’t realize you were dating.” Martina gives me a practiced, stiff smile and extends her hand, gracing me with one of those limp-noodle handshakes.
“We’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of months. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Martina.”
“Ah. I see. Well, it’s a pleasure, I’m sure. Enjoy your evening. We’ll be in touch, Jackson.” Martina turns to her husband and slips her arm through his. “Come, Frank, let’s find our table.”
“We should do the same.” Jackson settles his palm on my lower back and guides me in the opposite direction.
I don’t have a chance to ask him about Frank and Martina, or who they are and whether I’m being overly sensitive about their reaction to me, because the moment we take a seat, Jackson and I are pulled into a conversation with our table mates. I’m very pleased to find that we’re seated with the Mills brothers and their wives. After a round of introductions, Cosy takes the seat next to mine, and Amalie and Ruby force their husbands to sit next to each other so we can sit together. “They’re going to talk business the entire night, and you’ll be stuck in the middle, having to pretend you care about stock markets and hedge funds.” Ruby rolls her eyes.
“Also, Amalie and Lex aren’t allowed to sit beside each other at these events because they’re horrible about public displays of affection,” Cosy tells me.
Amalie, who is sandwiched between Cosy and Ruby, shrugs. “It’s not untrue.”
The women are incredibly easy to talk to. As we chat, I notice a woman across the room in a red dress looking in our direction. It takes me a moment to figure out why she looks so familiar. And then I realize it’s Selene. She’s stunning, poised and polished, and she’s talking with the couple Jackson and I met just before we sat down for dinner.
It’s then that I put together the fact that there’s a family resemblance. She’s clearly their daughter. And now I wonder if I wasn’t all that off base in thinking I received a cool reception from Martina and Frank, and that limp handshake was purposeful.
I want to ask Jackson about it, but it’s clear I’ll have to wait until later. I excuse myself to the bathroom after dinner, and Jackson heads to the bar to grab us drinks.
“I’ll meet you in the auction room?” I ask.
“Perfect. I shouldn’t be too long.” He kisses me on the cheek, and I head for the bathroom at the other end of the room.
I take a minute to collect myself. I know at some point I’m going to have to talk to Selene, and the thought makes my stomach churn. That uneasy feeling is only amplified when I overhear a group of women talking in the lounge on the other side of the bathroom. There’s a wall between us, and I’m hidden by the vanity, but there’s an echo in the room, making their conversation less than private.
