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“Oh, good, there you two are. Willow, dear, I have a few people eagerly waiting to meet you,” Alice spouts with malice in her eyes. She pulls my fiancée from my grasp, “I’ll take care of her, dear. You have your rounds to make.”
I hesitate,but Willow looks back at me and nods confidently, with clear intent in her eyes. She’s strong; she’s got this. If anyone could hold her own in a room with Alice Alexander, it’s Willow. I’ve always known she’s the perfect woman for the job, but as she disappears from my sight again, I realize how much I don’t want her to go. She’s so much better than these people, and if I cared about her, I wouldn’t make her pretend to be anyone but herself. The realization is a hard pill to swallow.
A bartender hands me a scotch, and I think of the best plan of action. The mission, if I choose to accept it, is to make Willow mine. Claim her in absolutely every way possible.
Men in suits with egos bigger than their trophy wives’ fake tits come and go. I run on autopilot, mentally making a checklist of everything I need to do to set it up. Two hours later, I’ve fulfilled my quota and go looking for my date.
Through a large set of double doors, I make my way to a joined convention room where several people are dancing, and off to my left, a large bar lines the wall. Laughter cackles through the slow music and, to my utter shock, it’s my mother's voice. Sitting beside my target is Alice, taking a shot with her black dress sleeve falling off her shoulder. I walk faster to reach them and get answers to my mounting questions.
“Oh Archer, hi. Here, have a seat,” my mother laughs.
I watch my drunk mother fall off the stool and knock into Willow, who is laughing so hard there are tears in her eyes.
“What the actual fuck is going on here?” My tone leaves no room for argument, and both ladies stop laughing and turn their attention to me.
“Get your things; we’re leaving. Now.”
“But we were having so much fun,” Alice says, then hiccups.
“And now we’re leaving. Where is Dad?”
“Oh, somewhere, talking to someone else, so he doesn’t have to talk to me,” she says with a big sigh that seems to dampen her earlier mood. I notice she looks at Willow with a sad smile, and my fake fiancée winks, like the two of them share some secret I’m not aware of.
They both seem to sober, and I offer my arm for balance, which they happily take as I earn the first genuine smile of the night from Willow. We make our way quietly through the crowd to my waiting limo. The silence continues as we drive to my apartment building, and I send a message off to my father, letting him know Mom is staying at my place for the night. I can’t remember the last time I saw Alice drunk. She’s always poised and presentable. She sometimes poured juice in her wineglass at parties when I was a child, telling me it was to keep her head straight in the sea of vultures. Tonight, she drank too much with a woman she clearly doesn’t approve of. My confusion only grows when we reach my apartment, and the two get ready for bed together, putting me out on the couch. A little discomfort is worth it when it earns me a goodnight kiss from my would-be fiancée. Even if it's only on the cheek, I’ll take it. Her anger from earlier seems to have melted away during the time she’s spent with Alice. Not knowing the conversation they had drives me mad and has me tossing on the couch until the sun comes up. It feels like I just closed my eyes when I hear banging in the kitchen.
“Does he still like chocolate chip pancakes?”
“I can hear you,” I groan.
“Oh, I’m sorry, son. Do you want breakfast? I was thinking I could make you chocolate chip pancakes?”
“How are you so cheery right now?” Willow asks my mother, who looks like she feels a lot better than the two of us. She’s curled up on the armchair beside the couch I’m lying on and is only wearing one of my old t-shirts. The way she’s sitting with her knees up over the arm gives me the perfect view of her black panties, and I swallow hard and almost choke. I cough uncontrollably for a moment, which calls the attention of both women who come over to my side. My mother pounds on my back.
“I’m fine,” I say in a scratchy voice.
“I’ll get you some water, honey. Coffee too, it’s almost ready.”
“Thanks.”
Willow is now on the couch beside me, looking at me with concern etched on her face. Needing to fix the mood I created yesterday, I nudge her with my shoulder and grin. She looks relieved, and we both sit back and relax as Alice rushes around my kitchen, making us breakfast. She talks a mile a minute and apologizes several times for her lapse in judgment, but I still see the bond last night created between the two women. Part of me is freaked out that Willow got to her so quickly, but I’m starting to suspect that’s just Willow. The girl with the power to win over virtually anyone.
