Shattered: (48 page)
Authors: Janet Nissenson
Stan’s dainty, exquisitely feminine wife Felicity apparently adored lavish parties and dressing up, and thus formal attire had been specified on the invitation for tonight. And since Angela had been so pressed for time these past few weeks, she hadn’t had the opportunity to shop for something new. Instead, she’d reluctantly selected one of the beautiful designer gowns that Nick had bought for her to wear this evening. The formal dresses she owned had been pushed to the very back of her closet, but she’d known even before unzipping the garment bag which one she’d choose.
The only other time she’d worn this particular dress had been to a party Nick had brought her to – a party given by a former teammate of his and one where he’d felt assured of their privacy. She’d felt like both a princess and a siren in the gown, and the way Nick had looked at her – well, that had made her feel like the most ravishing woman on earth.
And ravish her he had that night – during the limo ride to the party; in a bedroom of the sprawling mansion set high in the hills above Palo Alto that they’d snuck off to midway through the party; and then for hours and hours upon their return to her apartment. She’d been sore and wrung out for days afterwards, walking with a definite hitch in her step, but glowing each time she recalled their wild night of passion.
Julia had helped her get dressed tonight, as well as doing her hair and makeup, while Lauren had lounged back on Angela’s bed instead, drinking a beer while making little critiques here and there. At one point, blusher brush in hand, Julia had turned on her sister in exasperation.
“And how exactly would you know that I’m not applying the blush to the right part of her cheekbone?” she asked in annoyance. “Frankly, I wasn’t sure you’d even know what kind of brush to use, given how seldom you wear makeup.”
Lauren shrugged and took a swig of her Stella Artois. “Come on, Jules. How many times did I watch you put on makeup while we were growing up? I think you started glopping the stuff on when you were eleven.”
Julia’s cheeks flushed with natural color. “I was
not
that young,” she protested weakly. “I mean, sure, I experimented with makeup then. But Mom would never let me leave the house with it on so that doesn’t count.”
not
that young,” she protested weakly. “I mean, sure, I experimented with makeup then. But Mom would never let me leave the house with it on so that doesn’t count.”
“The point I was trying to make is that I pay attention,” drawled Lauren. “I listen, even when you think I’m not. So believe me when I tell you that you’re putting the blush too high up on the cheekbones. You’re going to make Angie look like a clown.”
“Impossible,” declared Julia as she whisked one final bit of sparkly blusher on Angela’s right cheek. “Because Angie looks drop dead gorgeous tonight. And more like her old self than she has in years. Stand up, now, and let us give you one more lookover, hmm?”
As Angela stood and obediently made a slow 360° turn, Julia sighed in envy.
“God, I wish you weren’t eight inches taller,” she bemoaned. “Otherwise I would
so
be borrowing that gown. It’s stunning, Angie. And you’re stunning.”
so
be borrowing that gown. It’s stunning, Angie. And you’re stunning.”
Lauren gave a very unladylike belch, belatedly covering her mouth. “Oops. Sorry, chugged that last bit down too fast. But Julia’s right, girl. You look hot.”
The Marchesa gown was simple and elegant, but also incredibly alluring, the teal silk shade a perfect foil for Angela’s olive skin and dark hair and eyes. The gown was Grecian in style, leaving one shoulder bare, while the pleated bodice and long, draped skirt flattered the tall, slender lines of her body. With it she wore towering silver metallic evening sandals, her only jewelry a dangling pair of diamond and aquamarine earrings.
Julia had arranged the heavy mass of her hair into a low, thick chignon and her makeup was dramatic – eyes shadowed and lined in smoky gray; her complexion glowing with the shimmery, gold-flecked blusher; her mouth looking sinfully lush with its application of dark mocha gloss.
As she inspected herself in the full length mirror hanging on the back of her closet door, Angela thought wryly that most of the attendees at the party tonight wouldn’t recognize her. The gorgeous silk gown and stiletto heels were a far cry from her boring pant suits and nondescript shoes, while she rarely wore either makeup or jewelry to the office.
But more than that, she realized, was that tonight she looked and felt like
Angela.
Not Angie, the name her family and friends had always called her – Angie, who’d been the somewhat awkward, often rebellious girl she’d been growing up. And certainly not Angel, the impressionable young woman whom Nick had plucked out of a crowd and molded into his ideal of the perfect lover. No, tonight she was finally Angela – a confident, successful woman capable of making her own decisions and taking charge of her life. A woman who no longer needed her family’s approval or attention in order to be happy, who had resisted the temptation of falling back under her former lover’s control, and for whom the future was finally beginning to look bright.
Angela.
Not Angie, the name her family and friends had always called her – Angie, who’d been the somewhat awkward, often rebellious girl she’d been growing up. And certainly not Angel, the impressionable young woman whom Nick had plucked out of a crowd and molded into his ideal of the perfect lover. No, tonight she was finally Angela – a confident, successful woman capable of making her own decisions and taking charge of her life. A woman who no longer needed her family’s approval or attention in order to be happy, who had resisted the temptation of falling back under her former lover’s control, and for whom the future was finally beginning to look bright.
“I still wish you’d have let Nathan fix you up with his friend Jonathan,” lamented Julia. “I mean, the guy’s kind of a tool and it would have definitely been a one-time deal for you. But at least he’s tall and good looking, and he can even be kind of charming if he works at it hard enough.”
Angela gave her friend a pat on the shoulder. “Gee, thanks. He sounds like a real prize. But I’ve got no problem going alone, honest. I probably won’t even stay that long. I mean, the guy who’s retiring is close to eighty years old so I doubt this is going to turn into some wild party.”
“See, you should have held on to Dwayne a little longer,” chided Lauren. “I mean – I can’t believe I’m actually saying that but at least he could have been your date tonight.”
Angela shook her head. “Don’t forget he’s been in Europe for almost a month now, and he’ll be there another couple of weeks at least. Besides, based on the last email he sent a few days ago it sounds like he and that runner he likes have been hanging out more and more.”
Julia gave her a little hug. “You did the right thing by being honest with him,” she insisted. “Dwayne’s a nice guy but I could tell things were never going to get serious between the two of you. And you’ll meet the right guy one of these days. Watch – it’ll happen when you least expect it.”
Lauren smirked. “Meanwhile, us single girls can still hang out and have some fun. I figured you won’t want to go out drinking tomorrow night since you’ve got your big race the next morning, but maybe on Sunday we can get into some trouble.”
Angela grimaced. “I’ve got a feeling after running more than sixty miles on Sunday morning the only thing I’m getting into that night is a hot bath.”
“You’re a little nuts, you realize that, right?” asked Lauren calmly. “And coming from me – the girl who’s rocked climbed in Portugal, bungee jumped in New Zealand, and swam with sharks in Ecuador – that’s saying a lot. Exactly how long is it supposed to take you to finish this race anyway?”
“If all goes according to plan, around eleven hours,” replied Angela. “So with a five a.m. start that would have me finishing around five thirty p.m.”
Lauren brightened. “Well, then. Plenty of time for you to take a shower, catch a quick nap, and then hit a few bars. Or,” she conceded grudgingly when she glimpsed the scowl on Angela’s face, “I could get some Chinese takeout and chill a couple of bottles of wine.”
“Even better,” piped up Julia, “I’ll cook. You’ll need to replenish about ten thousand calories after a run like that, so I’ll have tons of carbs – lasagna, garlic bread, salad. And definitely something yummy for dessert!”
Angela smiled gratefully. “I don’t want you going to any trouble, Jules. Chinese would be fine.”
Julia waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s no trouble at all. Besides, I don’t have to cook tonight since the three of us are headed to the Giants game in a bit. And Nathan’s brother got us club level seats, which means the food will be a bit more upscale.”
Julia’s new brother-in-law Jared was a professional baseball player for the Colorado Rockies, who were in town to play the San Francisco Giants. Angela had been more than a little speechless to learn her friend – who was far more interested in shopping, the theatre and yoga – was actually attending a sporting event.
Angela gave a dubious glance at Julia’s floral print, multi-tiered sundress and cork heeled wedge sandals. “Are you, ah, wearing that to the game?”
Lauren hooted. “You should know by now, Angie, that this is Jules’ idea of dressing down. Did you think she’d be wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead?”
Angela was saved from further comment by the honking of a horn outside, signaling the arrival of her taxi. She gave each of the twins a hug. “Gotta run. Well, not in these shoes, maybe, more like walking very, very carefully. Thanks, you guys, for getting me all girly.”
Julia straightened the single shoulder strap of Angela’s gown. “You know how much I love doing stuff like that. I had fun. And it was so worth it to see how gorgeous you look right now. I just wish you had a hot date so that all of this gorgeousness could be better appreciated.”
Angela picked up her silver clutch and pale gray pashmina. “Forget about it, okay? It’s just an office event, after all, and probably going to be boring as hell. I’d much rather be wearing jeans and flats right now and going to the baseball game with you guys instead. But I’d better dash now. Love you guys!”
Knowing that the twins would lock up after her – and that Julia at least would do some tidying up – Angela made her way carefully down the stairs and into the waiting taxi. She hadn’t been fibbing just now when she’d told the twins that she would much rather be going to the baseball game instead of this party. Because she’d always been such a loner at the office, there were very few people she knew well enough to actually socialize with. Cara, of course, hadn’t been invited – it was likely that just the older brokers and a few of the more successful younger ones plus management would be attending tonight. Angela just hoped that Felicity hadn’t stuck her at a table with that jackass Jay Corcoran. There was
no
way she could sit through an entire meal having to listen to the sales manager spouting out company propaganda.
no
way she could sit through an entire meal having to listen to the sales manager spouting out company propaganda.
And thank God she wouldn’t have to worry about running into Nick tonight. Not only did he hate these sort of office functions worse than she did, but he scarcely knew Stan Wagner, having only worked at the office for three months or so. And the only thing worse than seeing Nick tonight would be having to see him with a date clinging to his side. She shuddered as she exited the taxi, the smartly uniformed doorman ushering her inside the lobby of the luxuriously appointed Gregson hotel, as the image of Nick with a glamorous blonde or redhead came to mind. She might not be willing to concede to his terms again, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still horribly jealous of all the women he must have fucked over the past four years. And she most certainly wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him up close and personal with one.
Once inside the banquet room, she accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, her gaze swiftly taking in the other guests already assembled. She was relieved not to see the annoying Jay among them, at least not yet, and made her way over to greet the guest of honor and his wife.
Stan, a slim, dapper man in his late seventies, gave her a flirty grin as he pecked her on the cheek. “I almost didn’t recognize you, my dear,” he told her. “Quite a change from those very businesslike suits you wear to the office. You look exquisite, young lady, absolutely exquisite.”
Smiling, Angela bent to press her cheek against Felicity’s, the older woman more than a foot shorter than she was. “Your lovely wife is the one who’s exquisite,” teased Angela. “Thank you both for inviting me tonight. It’s truly an honor.”
Felicity, her frosted blonde hair arranged in an elaborate twist, and her dainty, petite figure clothed in a long cream chiffon skirt and sequined hot pink jacket, beamed up at Angela. “Ah, but Stanley is quite right. You’re stunning, dear, just stunning. I’m surprised your young man has let you out of his sight for this long.”
Angela was puzzled at her hostess’ words. “What young man? I’m here alone this evening.”
Felicity looked confused. “Your date didn’t make it? Why, he just called me a few days ago to apologize and beg my forgiveness for RSVP’ing so late. He said he hadn’t been able to confirm his plans before then and that you were too peeved at him to call me yourself. I must say, Angela, he’s quite a charmer. And I’m dying to meet him. Stanley says he’s caused quite a stir around the office.”
Angela shook her head, bemused. “Honestly, Felicity, I don’t know what’s going on but -”
“Sorry I’m late, Angel. One more sin you’ll have to forgive me for. Ah, and this beautiful lady must be Mrs. Wagner. I have to thank you once again for accepting my inexcusably late RSVP.”
Angela stared in horror as Nick took Felicity’s tiny hand and brought it to his lips. He was wearing a beautifully cut black tuxedo that had most certainly been custom made for him, and Felicity was staring up at him in stunned disbelief, yet another gullible victim of his charm.
Angela was still shell shocked as Nick shook hands with Stan, congratulating him on his retirement and thanking him profusely for inviting him to the party. And then, before she could utter a word of protest, he was grasping her by the arm and steering her away, grabbing two champagne flutes as he did so.
“Here, you look like you could use this. Not,” he added with a chuckle, “to throw in my face, though. Drink up, Angel, and don’t even think about making a scene. We both have to face most of these people on Monday morning, you know.”
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