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CHAPTER 8
Miranda
Two cosmopolitan martinislater and I’m on the dance floor shaking what my mother blessed me with. I’m lighthearted, carefree and unbothered. I’m never going to be a dance superstar, but I can definitely move to the sound of the music. Who gives a damn about a guy I lusted over for two years and honestly, how crazy is it to fantasize over a Powerball who might have already forgotten all about me? I’m having the time of my life and the night is young. Who knows? Maybe I’ll break out of my shell and I’ll meet someone new. I’m flying so high now on the buzz from my drinks and the vibes of the music, I feel invincible. Determined to force all thoughts of my disastrous past dating life out of my head, I bounce to the underground soulful beats, swaying my hips side to side. Suddenly, someone taps my shoulder.
I turn around and a very tall, buff, bald guy leans into me. “You’re way too hot to be dancing alone. Mind if I join you?” he shouts over the music.
I open my mouth to refuse, but then a song I absolutely love kicks in and a surge of temerity bubbles up inside me. I grab his hand, tugging him toward the center of the dance floor, and I let loose. I dance like it’s nobody’s business and for the first time in my life I truly feel like I own this moment. Glancing back, I see the brave soul who accosted me smile as he holds his own. He’s a pretty good dancer. When the DJ switches to a mashup mix that’s been topping the charts on YouTube for weeks now, I throw my hands up in the air and twist my body, dancing with my back to his front, wiggling my ass as I slide my dress up along my thigh in a provocative way. I’m inches away from his groin and I’m loving the way his hands skim over my hips. The attention he’s showering me with makes me feel sexy and daring. I doubt I would’ve ever had the guts to go this far with a stranger, but tonight everything is different. The lust I read in his eyes takes me by surprise. Too bad I’m not into him.
My rugged dance partner and I keep up our pace through a series of hot mixes and popular Top Forty Billboard singles until the heat in the room becomes too overwhelming to bear. The intimacy of our dancing for the past half hour only boosts my confidence. I smile at him and gesture to let him know that I’ve had enough and that I’m leaving.
He frowns. I shrug apologetically. He takes a step forward, slides his arm around my waist and leans in until his lips nearly touch my ear. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Thanks so much, but I think I’m okay.”
I had a blast dancing with him, but I know very well that things won’t go much further than this. What’s the point of leading him on?
* * *
Why is it that women’s bathrooms are always so packed?The line to the stall is so long I’m surprised I’m able to hold it in until it’s my turn. Martinis are a beautiful thing, but man, they do quite the number on your bladder.
Once I’m done, I fight my way to the sink to wash my hands and find a little spot in the mirror so I can assess the damage. It’s not easy being this short when you’re surrounded by women who are five-ten or taller and who are all wearing skyscraper heels. Just when I start to curse my petite stature and I think I’m out of luck, three stick-figure silicon Barbie dolls with inflatable boobs the size of small watermelons leave. Buh-bye. Finally, I’m able to move to my right so that I can take a better look at myself.
I primp, blot and touch up the perfect makeup job Jessica did on my face. I recoat my lashes with mascara, tease my hair to add extra volume and reapply my lipstick. Jess used Candice Swanepoel as her muse for my makeup. She gave me the same shimmery nude eyes and the same bold lips as the South African Victoria’s Secret model. I never bring much attention to my mouth, but I have to hand it to Jess, she knows her craft well. Not bad. Not bad at all. Once I’m happy with my appearance, I head back out.
This is crazy.There are people everywhere, but luckily I manage to spot my best friend. Jess is chatting with a well-known actress near the back. She notices me and winks at me. I smile back warmly. Unwilling to butt in and fueled by her earlier advice, I venture off alone. Instead of going back to the dance floor, I make a bee-line to the bar. I’m dying of thirst.
I’ve barely taken a step forward when my phone vibrates inside the clutch hanging from the chain looped around my shoulder. I pull it out to see who’s texting me and I immediately smile. Jess.
Jess: Remember, you’re a sexy temptress capable of getting any man she wants. Go for it.
Miranda: I love you so much right now.
Jess: Ditto. Now go hook up with a guy and make me proud.
Miranda: Yes, ma’am.
I slide my phone back into my clutch and resume my mission. Time for another drink. I zigzag my way to the bar, since there are so many people standing around chatting with a glass in their hands. I often notice this same phenomenon at events and galas I’ve worked at the past. Although there’s a dance floor and there are empty adjacent rooms, most guests tend to congregate around the bar area. It seems that’s where all the action happens. This party is no different other than the fact that usually people seek me to order a drink. Tonight the tables are turned. I’m no longer a waitress. I’m a bona fide guest.
I’m standing in front of the bar doing my best to catch someone’s attention when another heat wave takes over me. Lifting my hair off my neck in an attempt to cool down, I fan myself with my hand, but there are too many bodies crammed in this room. It seems like a futile exercise. Holy crap, it’s hotter than hell.
“Your hair is freaking insane.”
When I reopen my eyes I’m face to face with a smiling bartender. “Thanks. Right now I’m cursing this heavy, thick and long mane,” I lament.
“I have a few solutions to alleviate your problem, but I won’t tell you what’s going through my head.” He grins suggestively. My cheeks instantly burn and I know it has nothing to do with the temperature in the room. “My name is Charlie.”
“Pleased to meet you, Charlie.” I shake his hand.
“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”
I’m nobody’s fool.“I’m pretty certain you’ve already asked the same question to every single girl who stood right where I am now.”
“Nah, only to the really sexy ones.” He winks.
“Smooth,” I say awkwardly.
“I won’t embarrass you any further. What’s your vice, sweetheart?”
