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Groaning, I turn off my laptop and decide to hit the gym. It’s now ten thirty, and the only chance of getting a wink of sleep is to run until I drop into an exhausted heap.
But no matter how far I run, I know Madison will always be two steps ahead.
It’s Friday night, and the majority of guests have arrived for the awards ceremony, which is to take place tomorrow evening. I have kept to myself all week, pretty much barricading myself in my room, and honestly, it’s been a nice change focusing on books instead of boobs.
But sadly, my hermit status must be put on hold as all attendees are invited to attend a pre-awards dinner party, and it would be unwise of me not to go.
It’s a formal event, so I’ve dressed smart in a pinstripe monkey suit, but I’ve slipped on a vest as the heat is atrociousand I have no desire to be sweating into my champagne. As I make my way to the elevator, I bump into Chad Turner, my friend from the Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences board, and a woman who I’m presuming is his new squeeze, as her enormous rock is blinding me with its brand new sparkle. She also happens to be his junior by about forty years.
“Dixon,” Chad happily says, extending his hand. “How lovely to see you. Did you just arrive?”
“No, I actually drove down a few days ago,” I explain, pressing the call button and ignoring the predatory eyes of the brunette by Chad’s side. “I needed to get out of the city.”
“Ah, yes, New York can be rather taxing. Have you enjoyed your stay so far?” he asks as the elevator cart stops on our floor.
As we enter, the brunette makes a point of standing rather close to me, and I make a point of subtly moving away. “Yes, it’s been wonderful, although I haven’t had much of a chance to sightsee. I’ve been working on my paper.”
“Oh? More research into neurobiology and addiction?” he asks, and I nod. “I love what you have presented thus far; your findings are rather genius. All book work? Or a bit of personal experience?” he asks with a smirk, watching the floors tick by above his head.
“A bit of both,” I reply and move back a fraction, as this bold brunette just shifted a touch closer.
“I would love to hear your theories. Are you free tomorrow for a round of golf?” he asks.
“Sure, I would love to,” I reply and practically storm out of the elevator when the doors open. “Meet you in the lobby around nine thirty?”
“Yes, that’s perfect. Rebecca loves to golf. Don’t you, honey?”
“I sure do. I can’t wait to see you on the greens,” she replies. She can’t be serious.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Chad says. “I have to show this little beauty off to my jealous colleagues.”
She giggles, throwing me a flirty wink over her shoulder as we enter the ballroom while I head straight for the bar. After that god-awful experience, I need a scotch to settle me down.
The bartender gives me a small smile as she sneakily slips me a double shot.
I take my drink and decide to work the room because I’ve already seen half a dozen people I want to talk to. This is what these functions are all about. For people to big-note themselves, for others to boast and brag about the millions of dollars they make, and for people like me to get to the top, using my brain rather than my wallet to succeed.
I’ve made a name for myself, and for that, I’m proud, but unlike the majority of fossils here, I’ve done so through hard work and keeping in touch with the newest theories and studies. Yes, I may have fallen off the wagon, but I’m back on it, and I’m determined to win that award next year.
Two hours later, I’ve worked the room and spoken to everyone I wanted to chat with. My theories were debated by almost every person, but when I explained the facts, nearly all seemed to understand my approach.
Most faces I recognized, but some I didn’t, and those were the ones I made sure I got to know. I have made some new allies this evening, and the ones I already had were singing my praises. I may be a failure in my personal life, but career-wise, I’m fucking nailing it.
Making my way over to the bar, the same bartender from earlier spots me and reaches for the scotch with a smile.
“Make that two,” a voice to the left says.
I turn and see Chad’s wife or mistress, or whatever the hell she is, standing beside me, a sinister smile marring her ruby red lips. “We weren’t formally introduced,” she says and extends her hand, her bracelets jingling with the movement. “I’m Rebecca.”
Accepting her hand, I shake it lightly. “Nice to meet you, Rebecca. I’m Dixon.” I let go of her hand as I’m afraid she’ll shove it down the front of her purple dress.
“So Dixon, you wouldn’t happen to know what they do for fun around here, would you?” she asks, her finger skirting around the rim of her glass once the bartender places our glasses on the counter.
Trying to remain cool, I smile. “You have looked around, haven’t you?” I ask, twirling my pointer. “No fun will be found in a room full of doctors.”
She grins, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “Well, how about you and I go make our own fun?” she suggests, dipping the tip of her finger into the scotch and wetting her lower lip with the liquid.
Jesus H. Christ, no foreplay with this man-eater. She’s just gone in for the kill in under sixty seconds. I’m impressed. Too bad she’s completely and utterly off-limits.
