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“Well, not fucking really. But this is as ready as I’m going to be for this,” I say.
I’m ready to get it over with, at least.
“Alright, let’s go. By the way, you look beautiful. I forgot to tell you when I walked in on your neighbor drama.” I just kind of laugh and thank him.Please, just let it gois what I’m thinking.
“So why aren’t you friends now?” he asks anyway.
“I outgrew him,” I say, without making eye contact, and leave it at that. It feels true. I only wince a little.
It isn’t surprising that the auction, at first glance, is not as intimidating as I had pictured. For some reason, I had pictured something more intimate where, immediately upon arrival, I would be bombarded by important people that Jake knew asking me a million questions that I didn’t want to answer. Instead, I find myself in an incredibly large banquet hall in a building downtown with probably 50 large tables set up for the dinner, at least as many chandeliers, and a room packed with people. I feel like I could disappear in this room if I needed to. If Jake needed to abandon me for some reason, I could blend into the scenery and it wouldn’t be that weird to anyone to see me there, alone. This gives me some reprieve. I breathe a little easier. We move through the room, taking drinks and hors d’oeuvres from catering staff carrying silver trays (now that, I had pictured) while Jake points people out to me. He hates that guy, likes this guy. A few anecdotes here and there. He’s funny, as usual, and relaxed, unlike me.
It goes like this for a while, and I’m able to get a couple of glasses of champagne down the hatch before we are approached by a couple of Jake’s friends. One of them is Eric, him I’d heard of a few times. I miss the other one’s name but nod like I didn’t. He introduces me to them as his girlfriend, and they all seem surprised. They look and talk just how I’d figured they would. They seem simple—not in a bad way, but uncomplicated, with an unwarranted sense of overconfidence. They make some comments about how I’d better get out while I can, how I’d better run, and laugh. I laugh too, like I’m supposed to, even though it’s not funny. They continue talking about other people in the room, but my mind is no longer present. I’m wondering what Jake is like when he is with these people, when I’m not around, and how this all fits with the guy that I’ve come to know. I’m also wondering how people get like this and thinking about how I could use some of their overinflated confidence, and what I’d do with such a power. It'd probably take care of my little problem of taking too much in stride. I stand up a little straighter.
“What?” I come back down to Earth when I realize one of them must have been speaking to me, and I missed it. Everyone is staring at me, as if they are waiting for my response.
“I said I like your tattoos, what do they mean?”
Ugh, are you kidding me? I hate when people do this. Don’t ask strangers what their tattoos mean, guys. Maybe they just liked the art, or maybe they have some deep and painful, or beautiful and personal meaning. Either way, it won’t mean anything to you, and they don’t want to tell you.
“Got a week?” I reply, shrugging.
“What about the one on your back? I noticed it when you walked in. It looks fresh. I’ve got some ink, too,” says Guy #2.
“Yeah, we actually need to get going. I want to say hi to my mom before this whole thing starts. Sorry guys.” I’m thankful that Jake saves me, kind of, because I think he just said he was taking me to meet his mother.
“Alright, man. See ya. Nice to meet you, Ruby,” Eric says.
As we walk off, Guy #2 says, “Yeah, nice to meet you, Ruby. Make sure you say hi to Brianna, I know she wants to meet you.” They both laugh, and Eric elbows him a little. Jake doesn’t react at all. I assume this is an ex-girlfriend that must be around here somewhere, and that was some kind of a douche move. Maybe they’re hoping I’ll ask him about it later, and it can be something that we argue about. They don’t know me, so they don’t know I’m not the type to bring it up. It’s not like I’m some person without a past. I’ve certainly got one, and when it comes to matching destructiveness and depravity, I’d be willing to go toe-to-toe with either of those guys any day of the week. I stifle a laugh at the thought.
And yes, he’s taking me straight toward his mother. So much for a save, I guess. She’s the host of this event, and on the board for the art museum. I’d seen her in photos, but in person, she’s even more beautiful. Tall, slender, and ageless, she moves effortlessly as if through water in a sequined mermaid gown with a gorgeous train. I’m completely blown away; I’m also thinking about how much that dress must have cost and how nervous I am being initspresence, let alone hers. We close in and I’m checking my hands to make sure I’m not still holding onto any food or drinks that could ruin it. I don’t think the chardonnay could do much damage, but I finish it off for good measure.
She turns and spots us as we make our way over, her smile almost blinding me on sight. She hugs her son, and he introduces me, again, as his girlfriend, Ruby. Her name is Linda, and she doesn’t seem surprised like his friends. She hugs me, too, and tells me she’s heard so much about me. I smile, and tell her I’ve heard a lot about her, too, and congratulate her on the event. I think that’s something that people do. It seems like it hit right. I briefly wonder what kind of things there are to say about me to a mom. She tells me that she’s really glad to meet me, and that Jake never brings girls around, and that I must be special. He seems embarrassed, and I find it endearing. Of all the characters in all the roles I thought I might see tonight, Jake as a boy embarrassed by his mom wasn’t one of them.
“Jake tells me you’re a writer,” she says.
Well, there it is.
“I am…an aspiring journalist. I do some freelance work. And I manage a bar in Pioneer Square.” Am I embellishing? I was offered the job, so if I want to—and I think I do want to—then I do manage the bar. I can feel Jake’s questioning gaze. I can also feel my phone going absolutely crazy in this tiny borrowed purse, as it has been for the past few minutes. What the hell is going on?
“A businesswoman too, then. Nice. I can appreciate the hustle. I was that girl once, too,” she says.
I highly doubt she was ever anything likethisgirl, but I take the compliment. Dane would be proud. Soon, lights dim and a man takes the stage, announcing that it’s time for everyone to take their seats. Linda tells us that’s her cue, and she would love to continue this conversation later. It’s a superficial thing that people just say but it feels sincere coming from her. I bet most things do, and that she’s won over a lot of people in her life exuding sincerity just like that. Maybe that’s just one of her gifts.
“Your mom doesn’t seem like the miserable person you described at all,” I tell him quietly.
“I didn’t say she was miserable on her own, I said she was miserable with my dad. Distinct difference,” he clarifies.
“Ah, I see.”
“Manager, huh?” he asks as we head to our table.
“Yeah, actually. Dane just asked me yesterday. I guess I forgot to mention it in all the chaos. I haven’t told him yes yet, but I am pretty sure I am going to take it.”
“Ruby, that’s really cool. Why wouldn’t you take it?”
“I don’t know. It feels like I’m quitting in a way, you know, on my writing. Writing has always been my passion, and I don’t want to give up on that girl, if that makes sense.”
“It’s not quitting. Don’t think of it like that. You’re still the same girl. Taking a promotion doesn’t diminish your writing in any way.”
