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I head straight for the shower, willing the hot water to relax my body. I hate these events. My mother always brings handsome young men over to me, mentions to them how beautiful I am, and they ask for my phone number. A few of them I have had flings with, but they never hold my interest for long. I’ve just turned thirty this year, which, as my mother keeps reminding me, is too old to still be single. I should be married with a mansion of my own and two kids by now. But not one of the guys my own age has the ability to hold my interest for any length of time.
Zac was a few years older and had a successful career as a heart surgeon. I was taken by him the first time I saw him and fell head over heels in love very quickly. When he started distancing himself from me, I thought nothing of it. We were in love and the sex was pretty good too. Then I went to his office one day to surprise him for lunch and instead found him occupied, eating his assistant’s pussy.
Ever since, I haven’t been looking for something serious, never wanting to get hurt like that again. So as soon as the men I’m sleeping with show any interest in taking things to the next level, I get the hell out of dodge.
My cell rings in the distance, bringing me back to the here and now. I exit the shower and dry myself, as I walk into my bedroom. I lift my phone to see a missed call from my best friend, Kelly. I tap to reply the call and put it on loudspeaker as I sit at my dressing table and pull out my makeup, laying out the many products I will need to transform me from fresh faced to camera ready.
“Girl, what’s happening?” Her bubbly voice comes through the phone.
“Getting ready for one of Mom and Dad’s events tonight. Please tell me you’re coming. You know I can’t possibly go through with another one of these on my own.”
“Sorry, babe, you know how much I love wearing your beautiful gowns but I’m not feeling the best, so I’m going to surround myself with junk food and watch some reruns on TV.” I can picture her sitting on her couch, surrounded with delicious goodies like ice cream and chocolate. And I want nothing more than to hop in my car and drive straight over to join her. But I know I can’t do that.
“Wish I was there with you,” I throw back at her as I apply some mascara to my lashes.
“Bag a hot guy tonight for me, won’t you?” I can almost imagine her wiggling her eyebrows in that way she does whenever hot guys are mentioned.
I laugh. “Sure thing, babe, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. We are due for another catch up and a few glasses of wine. Love you, girl.”
“Love you too, Becca. Enjoy tonight,” she says before hanging up.
Once I lock my phone and leave it on my make up table beside my brushes I select the bloodred lipstick from my range of lippies and swipe it across my lips. I pull my hair into a chignon and curl a couple of free pieces around my face before grabbing the dress out of its wrapping and slipping into it. I wander into my closet and assess my reflection. The heavy smoky eyes and bloodred lips in combination with the black ball gown shows a different side to me. And let me just say, I look incredible.
I wander down the stairs after putting on my black stilettos and meet up with Mom and Dad. “Oh, honey, isn’t Rebecca stunning?” My mother turns around at my father’s insistence. Her baby blue dress clings to her slim body and shows that even though she may be approaching her mid-fifties she still has a body to be marveled at.
“All the men will be staring at you tonight,” she says, as she rushes over to me and places her hands on my shoulders. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to be late for our own party.”
We head out and slip into the limousine waiting by our front door. The ride over to the event is quiet. Mom and I sip champagne as Father savors a glass of his favorite whiskey. As the car comes to a stop and the driver opens our door, I see the camera flashes from the awaiting paparazzi taking photos of the guests who have already begun to walk the red carpet. As soon as we exit the car, though, no one else out there will matter. You may think I am self-centered, but that’s not it at all. It’s because my mother makes sure I am front and center, just like always. That’s the benefit of having a beautiful young daughter, she tells me, and it also doesn’t hurt to get my photo out there, so the eligible bachelors of the world sit up and take notice. The cameras stop flashing for a moment, waiting for us to make our appearance.
“Smile, Rebecca,” my mother reminds me as she slips out.
I take a fortifying breath and plaster a smile across my features. I swing my legs out of the limousine, then place one hand on the seat and the other on the door, and lift myself to a standing position. “Rebecca, look this way,” one of the camera-wielding paparazzi calls out. I turn and give them a small wave, while smiling at them. I move to the stretch of carpet and strike my usual pose—left hand on my hip, head thrown back slightly, with a megawatt smile plastered across my face. I let them take their photos before making my way along the red carpet, stopping several times, before finally escaping into the building. As soon as the walls wrap around me, I let my smile fall. These events never get easier. “You looked incredible out there, Rebecca. I bet your phone will be ringing off the hook tomorrow with men asking you out.”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m sure it will.” I glance around the room and see many people I’ve met on previous occasions. With a final kiss on the cheek, my parents walk away; it’s time for them to work the room.
I wander over to one of the tuxedo-clad servers making their way around the room with champagne flutes, and collect a glass. As I raise it to my lips, I look across the vacant dance floor and lock eyes with a tall, incredibly handsome stranger. My glass falters for a moment, not quite tipped up enough to get any of the bubbly liquid into my mouth. The eye contact is broken when someone taps on his shoulder, and he looks to the side to shake the hand of the man who wants his attention. I lift my champagne flute the rest of the way and drink it as quickly as possible. Once finished, I peer back over to the man who has captured my attention and see my parents are now speaking with him.
His eyes keep flicking in my direction and my mother follows his gaze. A small smile forms on her lips when she finds me before she returns to the conversation with the mystery man and my father. I imagine she is trying to find a way to set us up on a date as soon as possible, and on this occasion, I might actually agree to it.
As much as I want to stay in place and keep my eyes on this tall drink of water, to try and read his lips to ascertain the conversation going on between him and my parents, I am interrupted by Dr Charles, a long-time close friend of the family.
“Good evening, Rebecca. You look beautiful tonight, just like you always do.” I take hold of his offered hand and lean in, air kissing both his cheeks.
“Raymond, you’re looking splendid yourself.” He is dressed in the same tuxedo he always wears to these events. Not that many people would notice these sorts of things. But I do.
“Oh, you always know what to say to make an old man feel good about himself,” he chuckles.
I smile at him. “Do you happen to know who Mother and Father are talking to? I’ve never seen him before.”
Raymond follows my line of sight and finds who I am asking about. “Let me see. Hmmm. No, I don’t recognize him either. A handsome fella, though, isn’t he?”
“I didn’t notice. I just try to know everyone in the room. Especially those who I should be trying to impress.” The lie falls easily from my lips. I sure have noticed just how good looking he is.
“Darling Rebecca. You don’t need to try and impress anyone. Just be yourself, you’re perfect just the way you are. I told your parents that when I delivered you.” I smile at the wonderful man in front of me and squeeze his hands. He has known our family for so many years and me for my entire life.
“Thank you, Raymond.” I kiss his cheek for real this time.
“Speaking of your mother and father, they are heading this way.” I turn and see them walking toward us. The mysterious gentleman is a couple of steps behind. My mother’s face is clouded with emotions she is trying to hide with a smile.
