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"Let me guess… he's at the highest level in the Church of Scientology." Michelle meets my eyes, giving me a knowing smile. She doesn’t think all that highly of Sherri’s choice of men.
"Nope. Not telling you."
"Hey, aren't we besties?" I say in protest, annoyed that she's unwilling to fill us in on her plans to become Harrison's girlfriend. “Don’t tell me he’s Christian Grey’s twin brother…”
“Nope. Not going to tell you. I legally can’t since I signed an NDA.” Sherri takes a sip, her grin self-satisfied.
“You signed an NDA?” I frown. “What the hell, Sherri! That sounds bad. What is he doing that he requires an NDA?”
“Of all people, you know his family history. You should understand.”
I understand only too well, but that makes it all the harder for me to accept she’s so willing to become involved with someone like Harrison. My mother escaped my own father’s Russian Mafia clutches when she moved out of the house, refusing to turn a blind eye to my father and his criminal activity. She took me with her, so I share that in common with Harrison. Both of us were taken from our gangster families, although it appears that only I fully escaped their clutches. How my parents ever got together I’ll never know. My mother was from an Irish American family of cops and lawyers. She met my father, the son of a Russian dock worker with family ties to the Russian mob, in college and the two married despite the objections of both families.
Harrison, too, initially rejected his family’s mafia ties, but now, he’s reconciled with his family. He’s not taking over, because his oldest brother is next in line to the throne, but he’s still back in their orbit.
I’ve been free of my father’s side of the family ever since I was a toddler. My mother hated my father so much that she refused to speak Russian or follow any of his family’s traditions. We’re as American as Americans can be.
My Russian father still tries to entice me back every holiday, but I made it clear that, like my mother, I renounced him and any family that remains involved in the underworld.
Luckily, my mother married an upstanding man — an FBI Special Agent who worked in the Organized Crime Division. They actually met because of my mother’s attempts to escape my biological father’s clutches, and her help providing them info on my father’s family.
“I may tell you — one of these days, once I have him firmly to heel,” Sherri says, eying the table where Harrison and his party sit.
“Girl, I doubt that anyone, woman or man, has ever brought Harrison O’Connor to heel,” I say with a laugh.
She shrugs. “Whatever. Now, I’m going introduce myself. As soon as the next song starts, he’ll be mine.”
Unlike Sherri, Michelle and I feel more comfortable behind the bar than on the dance floor. While Sherri parties every weekend, Michelle and I have been studious, worried more about grades than whether we have a date for the weekend. Not that either of us don’t want a boyfriend, but we both want to get jobs and move out into our own place as soon as we can. I live with my grandfather on my mother’s side and my stepbrother, and Michelle lives in a dorm. Sherri has been single since she broke up with the homecoming king and wants to find a man and get married.
She wants Harrison O'Connor. I swear she’s already picked out her wedding dress and has a bridal registry at Holt and Renfrew. Her degree in business is only a means to meet a rich potential husband.
I watch Mr. Harrison O’Connor from across the room, noting how his eyes skim the crowd like he’s searching for a suitable target. His male friend sits at his side, commenting, pointing out various women and each time, Mr. O'Connor shakes his head slightly, like none of us met his standard. Just watching him in his thousand-dollar suit, his hundred-dollar haircut, his maybe-tens of thousands of dollars watch catching the light infuriates me.
Like he’s so much better than all the rest of us.
The music changes and Sherri grabs her clutch and straightens her skirt. “Watch this," she says and adjusts her neckline to show more cleavage. "I'm going to go introduce myself."
"What? I thought you were joking. You're really just going to go up and barge in on him?"
"I met a friend of his.” She winks at me. "I'll drop his name, and I'm sure he'll smile and shake my hand. I'll turn on my charm and then, at least, we'll have met. We’ll dance. After that, he's mine."
"You're crazy.” I take a long sip of my spritzer, amazed at her audacity.
Sherri is precisely that — crazy. Nuts. She has more balls than most men I know. Fearless.
While Michelle and I watch, Sherri strides in her second-hand Louboutins over to where the five of them sit in the booth overlooking the dance floor where hundreds of bodies gyrate to some EDM while laser lights flash, and strobes pulse.
Sure enough, she climbs the stairs and leans in to speak with Harrison. When she does, he smiles and shakes her hand — just like she promised.
What happens next shocks me. They walk to the dance floor, and then she spends the next two dances with him, thetwo of them leaning in together, smiling, and clearly mutually interested.
After the second song, she comes back to us and smiles.
“He’s mine. I’m going to a very exclusive party with Harrison. Sorry to leave you guys alone, but I couldn’t say no, could I? What are you two going to do?”
I shake my head and glance at Michelle, who’s holding back a grin. “I have to get up early tomorrow for a shift at the hospital,” I say and shrug. “I’ll be going home soon anyway.”
“I have to shave my legs,” Michelle replies. “Besides, the landlord just painted the hallway so there’s paint to watch dry. Don’t worry about me.”
