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“Smart.” This woman has me blushing at the slightest touch of hands.
We walk in, checking our coats at the front door, and I head right for the open bar. Everything else can wait until I have a drink. Tonight the drink of choice is a dirty Shirley temple. I can’t remember the last time I had a normal one, but I sip it and hand one to Isabella.
“This is delicious!” she gushes and sips it gingerly. For a moment I’m worried I’ll have to clean up after her if she gets drunk but after two hearty sips she lowers her glass and looks around the room.
“So where’s this boss?” she whispers, leaning in closer to me. Her perfume entraps me, it’s a mix of some kind of flowers and some fruit. As I’m trying to figure it out, I realize she’s waiting for me to answer.
I clear my throat. “Umm…” I look around the room. He was usually a little overdressed at events like this but I don’t see him.
“Who’s that?” Isabella asks with a muffled laughter. She tilts her head toward the door and I sigh.
“That would be my boss.” I frown. He is wearing a red suit and a pair of black converse. I wonder who dressed him and why they hate the man.
“Oh.” Isabella’s eyes widen, and I stifle a laugh.
“He’s a bit out there, but he controls most of the company so we have to listen to him,” I explain.
“Who put him in charge? His dad?” Isabella scoffs.
“Well, yes.” I laugh.
“Nepotism at its finest,” She laughs.
“Oh yes.” I nod. “He’s coming this way.”
“Okay, just breathe, we got this.” Isabella smiles and touches my shoulder lightly.
“Hello, Dylan, and who might this be?” Mr. Lefts comes over and looks between Isabella and I.
“This is my girlfriend, Isabella,” I say proudly. I know how beautiful she is and how impressed he’ll be by me bringing her tonight. I am ready to relish in it.
“Oh?” He looks just as surprised as I expected and I hold back a laugh.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Isabella holds out a hand and Mr. Lefts shakes it, clearly impressed.
“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m glad you finally took my advice, Dylan. Isabella is lovely.” He winks my way and I know that’s his way of giving his approval.
“Thank you, sir.” I smile politely.
“I love your outfit, did you have a designer do it?” Isabella asks.
“Actually, I chose it myself. I don’t believe in having designers making special things for me. I like to shop off the rack.” He shrugs. I wonder what rack he found that on.
“My best friend is a designer, she’d argue that some of the best pieces are handmade for one person in mind,” Isabella says with a polite smile.
“Interesting,” he muses. “Where did your friend go to school?”
“Eternal Port Valley University.” Isabella smiles.
“No shit!” he exclaims. “I went there too.”
“No way, that’s where I go,” Isabella adds.Do those two actually have something in common?
“For real, do you know the librarian? The really old one with the grey hair?”
“I do.” Isabella laughs.
“She’s my grandmother, that’s how I got in,” he explains.
