One Look At You (22 page)

“Guys, I’m sorry. I just can’t,” I say apologetically to them as I surrender the gown to the sales person.

They’re both grinning, and I raise an eyebrow questioningly.

“Happy birthday!” they say in unison.

My hands go to my mouth in shock. “You didn’t!”

“We did,” Mel says firmly.

“My birthday isn’t until two months from now. Guys, this is too much.”

“We’d rather get you a present we already know you like than have to worry about what to get you. Besides, Mark’s getting a third of the bill,” Mel says like she’s so sure this makes sense.

Both Jen and I look at one another, but say nothing. I go to hug both of them.

Jen says, “I have this three-layer necklace that will be perfect for that dress.”

I want to cry at their generosity, but I know Mel’s just going to give me a withering look.

“Anybody up for tea and pastries? My treat since I’ve lots of cash to spare,” I say.

“Sweet Medley?” Jen asks. Sweet Medley is a coffee shop we frequent in Toluca Lake.

“Anywhere you like.”

The server smiles shyly at me as he brings our order. Melanie has caprese, Jen has the Cajun shrimp on ciabatta, and I’m having a truffle chicken sandwich. For dessert, we’re having a plate of coffee macaroons.

“I think our server has a crush on you,” Mel teases.

“Don’t be silly,” I say.

“Besides, she has eyes only for Tony Avery,” Jen adds. I give her a warning look.

“What did I miss?” Mel asks.

“You do know it’s been weeks since we last got together,” Jen tells her.

“Livie’s always at work,” Mel says in her own defense.

“What about you and Mark?” Jen says.

“What about me and Mark?” Mel says, looking warily at both of us.

“What are you up to these days?” Jen asks, her eyes intently examining Mel’s face.

“I’m busy, too, and Mark’s probably off somewhere.”

“Right,” Jen says flatly, her tone one of disappointment.

“Anyway, are you and Tony going out now?” Mel turns the attention back to me.

I may as well fess up. They’ll eventually get it out of me. “I’ll give you an update only if you promise you won’t ask any questions.”

“Done,” Mel immediately says.

“But what if I have questions?” Jen asks.

“No, Jen. This is not Q-and-A time.”

Jen pouts but nods for me to go ahead.

“Tony and I…” There really is no delicate way of putting this. “We had sex.” Melanie gasps and Jen gives her a smug ‘I-already-knew-that’ look.

“We went away two weekends ago – his father’s house at Carmel by the sea. We came back. The next day, I went back to work and I thought I dreamt it all.”

Their eyes are alight with a million questions.

“He was curt. His wife showed up. I found out from HR that he was greenlighting the interviews for my replacement. That same afternoon, he flew to Brazil and he’s been away since.” As I tell the facts, I realize it sounds so bad for me.

“Wait! You can’t not let us ask questions,” Mel demands.

“Story time’s over. Now, it’s your turn,” I say.

“What do you mean it’s my turn?” Mel looks momentarily confused.

“Are you and Mark an item now?” Trust Jen to just blurt out the big question.

Mel reddens, looks at both of us, and then gives a sigh of surrender. “How did you find out? We’ve been so careful.”

“Remember when I went to your place to return the curling iron?”

“But you couldn’t have seen him,” Mel says.

“I didn’t see him. I saw his car,” Jen says with satisfaction.

“Two years ago, Mark and I slept together after we got drunk at a party.”

Now Jen and I both gasp.

“We vowed never to say anything to you guys because it was a mistake. Nothing more.” Mel’s eyes soften as she tells the rest of the story. “After the infamous Alicia episode, though, we sort of started texting and calling each other. One night he came to the apartment with a bottle of wine and take-out food. It was a pleasant dinner until we just started talking about stuff from the past. I don’t know what came over me, but I just leaned over and kissed him.” Mel’s cheeks are pink and she looks like a woman in love.

“Are you in love with him?” Jen asks softly.

She shrugs her shoulders, but it’s clear from her expression that she feels something more than friendship.

“Do you know how Mark feels?” I ask gently.

“Sometimes I think we’re just friends with benefits but, once in a while, I catch him looking at me in an odd way. See, this is why we didn’t want to say anything! Obviously, we’ve ruined the chemistry of the group.” She looks so sorry that I reach out for her hand.

“Mel, you can’t help what you feel. Jen and I will be very happy for both of you if you decide to be in a relationship. But we certainly won’t judge if nothing comes of this.”

“Thanks, Livie. And I do hope you sort things out with Tony.”

“Never mind that. Isn’t it obvious to you yet that I’ve been dismissed from his life?” I ask, my mouth twisted wryly.

Nobody says anything for a few seconds. “Macaroon?” Jen asks as she lifts the plate in our direction.

We all laugh at her attempt to inject humor in what is surely a depressing conversation.

It’s the day of the Masquerade Ball and I’m about ready to pass out from all the nervous tension of the past few days. Truth be told, I’m feeling proud of the way I’ve managed to address all the last-minute issues. I stood up to some of the managers (and their underlings) who were trying to bully me. Even the chef and interior designers for the affair have given me their grudging respect. Tony sent a brief email last Tuesday, saying his mother is better but that he’s choosing to stay by her side till she’s fully recovered. So, I faced the wolves alone. Mom was right. I’m stronger than I think I am.

“Are you almost done?” Jen is shouting through the closed door. I was losing patience with her nagging so I banished her from my room while I prepared for the ball. She’s my driver for the evening, so she’s anxious about getting me there before everyone starts to arrive.

“Get off my back, Jen!” I holler back. I had my hair and make-up done at the local salon so I know I don’t have to worry about that. My hair falls in soft curls and my make-up is understated. I’m wearing the gown now and teetering in Mel’s four-inch designer sandals. As a finishing touch, I put on Jen’s necklace and then pirouetted for a final look at the full-length mirror. When I see my daringly exposed back now, though, I’m panic-stricken, thinking I won’t be able to pull it off.

“Ready?” I say as I open the door.

Jen stares at me open-mouthed.

“Do I look okay?” I ask her anxiously.

“Livie… you’re so beautiful.”

I smile in relief. “You don’t think the bare back is too much?” I ask.

“Don’t say that. You’re perfect. You don’t even understand how gorgeous you are tonight.” She says it with such earnestness that I give her a grateful peck on the cheek.

“I’m gonna take a snapshot of you and send it to Mel and Mark.”

“Do you have to?”

“Yes. If Tony sees you tonight…”

“Jen, let’s not do that. Besides, he’s still in Brazil. I’m doing this for me. I want to feel good about myself after the battering I’ve received.”

She aims her phone and takes a picture, then attaches it to a text message and sends it to both Mel and Mark. “Where’s your purse?”

“I almost forgot.” I quickly grab the little gray minaudiere clutch from the bed.

“What about your mask?” she asks again.

“What would I do without you?” I go to my dresser and get the classic black Venetian masquerade mask with pink rhinestones.

Jen takes my hand and leads me to the car inside the garage. She carefully lifts the hem of my gown and arranges it as I get in.

“Don’t drink tonight,” she warns me like I’m a child.

“You think I haven’t learned that lesson?” I ask jokingly.

“I wish I were going to be with you to make sure you’ll be okay,” she says.

“I’m not a child, Jen. Nice try, though. You know I still don’t have the clout to let you in without a ticket.”

She giggles and gets in to drive to the venue.

“M’lady, have fun tonight. Remember, you don’t have to run back home when the clock strikes twelve.”

I give her a withering glance.

“A little Cinderella humor. Will you relax? You’re too wound up.”

“Thanks for everything, Jen.” I turn sideways to give her a tight hug.

As I alight from the car with my purse, she says, “Don’t forget to put on your mask.” I do as she says and wave goodbye to her as she goes. I slowly climb up the steps, still a little wobbly in my high, high heels. The welcome table outside the ballroom is still empty since the staff are only starting to trickle in.

The ballroom is decorated in elegant splendor. Breathtaking mural paintings adorn the walls, much like in the tradition of a Viennese castle. The tables are covered with white tablecloths. A massive floral arrangement is in the middle of each table, with plates, cutlery, and wine glasses reproduced in the pattern of the 18
^th
century. The interior designers have certainly outdone themselves. Now it is up to Chef Keller to deliver a gastronomic feast fit for all the very demanding celebrities who are coming.

I go to my station at the welcome table and find myself immediately surrounded by my co-workers.

“Livie, you’re stunning!”

‘Thanks,” I say dryly, feeling like Cinderella now.

I start to distribute some the badges and final instructions, feeling conscious about the admiring looks and whispers behind my back. I am flattered by their remarks, but all the extra attention is making it more difficult for me to focus on my task.

At half past seven, the guests start to arrive. I busy myself handing out badges to those who are already in line.

“Liv,” I hear Liz calling my name as she nudges my elbow. I briefly look at her to find out what she needs.

“Don’t look now,” she says, “but Ross Rickman has been watching you like a hawk since he arrived.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! He’s probably looking at some of the other celebrities,” I whisper back to her. Ross Rickman is one of the five most highly-paid actors in Hollywood. He is also the top choice for most romance pictures because of his boyish good looks and charming personality.

I steal a glance in his direction and it does seem like he’s staring at me. I shake my head. Liz has gotten into my head and my suddenly-inflated ego.

The lines move slowly, but I notice Ross Rickman switching to the line I’m in charge of. When it’s his turn, I greet him with a smile, “Good evening, Mr. Rickman. Here’s your badge, sir.”

“Thank you, and it’s Ross,” he says in his distinctive voice. “Perhaps you’ll reserve a dance for me tonight, Ms. Harris.”

I’m taken aback by his statement, but I carefully screen my expression. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Duty calls. I’ll be at this table for the duration of the festivities. And, it’s Olivia,” I add cheekily.

With a slight bow, he leaves to join the rest of the attendees.

“Hot!” Liz says as she jokingly fans herself with her hand.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Liz. When the clock strikes twelve and I turn into a pumpkin, he won’t even deign to speak to me.”

“That’s harsh, Livie. I really think he finds you attractive. He was eating you up with his eyes.” I laugh at her description and we both continue registering the guests.

An hour passes and the high-ranking executives of Gallo’s have entered the ballroom. Mr. Gallo was gracious enough to pass by our table and express his gratitude to the staff. The biggest celebrities are now seated at their tables inside. Through the speakers, we can hear the emcee start the ceremony. I’m near the ballroom door talking to the security personnel who have just informed me that a teenage couple tried to crash into the party. Suddenly, there’s complete silence from the welcome table, as someone seems to have made an entrance. A warm hand touches my bare back and I smell the familiar bergamot and cedar scent. I turn around and his warm lips touch my cheek. I can feel everyone’s eyes upon us.

“You’re back,” I say rather lamely.

“My mother’s settled back home and I didn’t want to miss this.” He looks around and says, “Tio Maximo has already called me to say that you’ve done a fine job with this year’s ball. Apparently, you single-handedly micro-managed every detail,” he says with a smile.

“I wouldn’t say that. Everyone pitched in.”

I examine his face openly and see that the past few weeks have changed him. There are age lines about his mouth and eyes, and his cheeks are hollow from the weight he’s lost. His profile is still strong and rigid, though, and he looks devastatingly handsome in his custom-made tuxedo.

He gazes at me with such sensual intent. I try not to react, but I can feel the hunger in his look, all the way to my core. His beautiful gray eyes darken as he stares at the neckline of my gown and the outline of my breasts.
Why is he doing this? We’re over. Does he want to draw blood, because there’s nothing more I can give.

“Excuse me, I have to go now,” I say in a neutral voice.

“Livie, we have to talk,” he whispers pleadingly.

“No, Tony, we don’t. You probably should be joining your table now. I have other things to attend to,” I say coolly.

I turn around to go back to the welcome table and he goes inside the ballroom. My knees buckle and I sit down, holding onto the edge of the table for support.

“Are you alright, Liv?” Liz asks solicitously.

“Yeah. Just a bit tired.”

At nine o’clock, I ask all the staff to join the ball. Liz, Kent, Cassie, and I are left at the table because, as past experience has shown, ticket holders still continue to arrive long after the ball has begun.

One of the security men approaches me to say that I’m wanted inside the ballroom. When I ask him why, he just shrugs and escorts me inside. Ross Rickman walks towards me and extends a flute of champagne in my direction.

“Olivia, you look like you could use a drink.”