Page 19 of The Silence of Monsters

The driver moved to open the door. Win caught my hand as I tried to exit the car. Our eyes met, and he gave me a look that conveyed his complicated feelings. “I know you’re mad for a lot of reasons, but I’m asking you to help me put forward a united front for the evening. We’re supposed to be a team, Channing.”

“I think we’re each playing a different game, Chester.” I slipped out of the car and stood next to the sidewalk, blinking against the bright lights from the flashing cameras. Win unfolded his tall frame to stand next to me. I heard someone shout his name and felt him stiffen. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and noticed that he appeared to be very uncomfortable with the attention focused directly on him. He was a real estate developer after all, not a celebrity.

He put his palm low on my back and guided me toward the entrance while offering a slight wave and smile to the waiting press. He refused to answer the questions that were lobbed at him, including the identity of his date. The back of my plain black dress was low enough that the heat from his hand touched bare skin. When I shivered, I blamed it on the chilly evening air, not my unwitting response to Win.

I tried to tune out the voices asking who I was and what my connection to the Hallidays might be. All it would take is one Google search to figure out my sister was once married to Archie Halliday and that the family blamed her for his death. It was enough to make society gossips froth at the mouth. I was acutely aware of what it was like to be weighed against the name Halliday and be found lacking. I would never have put myself in that situation again if Win hadn’t forced me.

We made it through the press gauntlet and stepped inside the elegant hotel. The place was filled from top to bottom with wealthy people who could donate millions of dollars to whatever cause was on the agenda. Everyone wore quietly luxurious designer clothes. Their jewels looked like they should be in a museum, and the conversations could make or break the stock market. This was as close to a modern-day royal gathering as one could get.

I had no business being here.

I felt like everyone was watching me walk next to Win and cataloging my faults. I heard someone ask in a comically loud whisper, “Who is she?” Which set off a ripple of unfavorable speculation throughout the crowd.

Win must’ve sensed my apprehension because his hand slid along my spine like he was trying to soothe a spooked horse.

“We aren’t staying long. Just hang in there until dinner starts. We can slip away after I give my obligatory speech.” The only reason Win agreed to appear tonight was that Halliday Inc. was the major sponsor of this event. His mother was the host, but Win’s name was on the invitation. People came to a gala like this hoping to exchange a few words with him. This event was more about making connections and making deals than about helping a cause.

Win shook a hundred hands and introduced me to a parade of well-dressed people as he tried to maneuver to the ballroom. I kept a blank expression on my face and returned the same level of interest back to the people who couldn’t care less about who I was. There was a voice in the back of my head telling me to make sure Winnie knew how to have fun in a group like this, because I couldn’t recall a gathering ever being less enjoyable. And I’d been divorced twice and forced into an unwanted marriage.

Once we were inside the lavish ballroom, Win offered to get me something to drink. He waved down one of the white-gloved servers and asked what I wanted. Before I could respond, an overweight gentleman who acted like he deserved Win’s undivided attention pulled him into a conversation that had no place for me. I wasn’t sure I could pick out Dubai on a map, let alone know about the difficulties of their real estate market. I could tell Win wasn’t happy about being trapped in the discussion. However, while the enthusiastic gentleman occupied him, I slipped away from Win’s side and found a bar on my own.

It was fairly easy to slip through the crowd once I ditched Win. No one was searching for me to talk business, and I didn’t look like someone whom the hosts would hold in high regard. Win’s face — and his wealth — were too eye-catching. Our marriage wasn’t necessarily a dirty secret, but it wasn’t something either of us advertised. It was almost as if we never uttered a word about it, we wouldn’t have to face what we’d done. Who signed up for a contract marriage in this day and age? While the curious might wonder why he brought someone with him to this gala when he usually came alone or accompanied his mother, not a soul directly inquired how I was affiliated with Win. It weirdly felt like they didn’t ask because they were afraid to hear the answer. Win was a notorious bachelor. It was common knowledge that he never brought a date anywhere publicly. He avoided being tied to anyone to prevent rumors. I was an anomaly in this world in more ways than one.

Once I reached the bar, I ordered a shot of whiskey, stole a toothpick loaded with olives because I doubted whatever was on the menu was something I could stomach, and searched for a vacant corner to wait out the drudgery of the evening.

There was a beautiful piano on a stage at the front of the room. A stunning young woman was singing a song in a foreign language. I didn’t know much about opera, but whatever she was performing for the affluent crowd sounded magical and sophisticated. I was a bit entranced as I continued to watch her while I sipped the whiskey that tasted smoother and went down easier than any alcohol should.

“Your outfit is interesting. Is it vintage?”

Breaking free from the reverie of the music, I looked at the young woman standing in front of me who’d asked the snarky question. She was probably a decade younger than me, close to Alistair’s age. She was taller and thinner than I was. Her makeup was flawless, and so was the diamond and pearl choker on her neck. She had dark hair that looked like she could shoot shampoo commercials, and her sharp features made her almost aggressively attractive. She looked like a modern-day Audrey Hepburn, but she lacked the grace that made her so memorable.

I looked down at my plain silk dress. It was the most expensive item I owned, but I bet it didn’t cost as much as anything the other woman was wearing, including the bejeweled hair pin holding her hair in a French twist. I bought the dress after Roan and I got divorced. I attempted to use retail therapy to make myself feel better when my heart was hurting. All I was left with was regret and a dress I couldn’t afford. I didn’t need a fancy little black dress; I needed to pay rent and keep the lights on. I was angry at myself for being reckless with my money and angrier when I tried to return the garment and was told it was on sale, so there would be no exchanges or credit.

“Sure. Since I’ve had this for over six years, I guess you could call it vintage.” I bit back a laugh when I saw the young woman’s expression sour at my disinterested tone.

“Who’s the designer? I don’t recognize it. I work in fashion, so I’m familiar with most houses’ collections. Even from as far back as five or six years ago.”

I lifted my shoulder and let it fall carelessly. “There is no designer. I’m sure it was assembled in a factory somewhere. I bought it off the rack at a department store. I’m sure hundreds were sold around the same time. It was a very popular style back when I purchased it.”

The woman’s retort seemed to be stuck in her throat as she blinked at me. After she coughed to clear the way, she looked me over and frowned. “Why would Win Halliday let you out of the house dressed in a department store dress if you’re his plus one? Is he attempting to humiliate you? Is he trying to make a point about sustainable fashion? I don’t understand.”

The first question was supposed to be a dig at my expense, but she sounded genuinely baffled. I chuckled and took another sip of my drink. “Maybe I’m trying to embarrass him.”

The brunette opened her mouth, then snapped it closed again like she couldn’t figure out what to say. I silently laughed as I turned to walk away from her. A flawlessly manicured hand latched onto my arm. Her fingernails dug into my skin and made me wince.

“You do know that Colette Halliday wants Win to get married, right? She plans to handpick her daughter-in-law. I don’t know who you are to Win, or why he brought you here tonight. But I know that you don’t belong with him. His mother will never allow it. You should set your sights a little lower. I’m sure there are plenty of men who don’t mind being with a woman who wears off-the-rack clothes to a black-tie event.” Her tone indicated there were exactly zero men in this circle who wouldn’t care about being seen with someone as basic as I was. She seemed particularly offended by my presence, which made her a perfect fit for what Colette wanted for Win.

I tried to walk away from both the woman and the pointless conversation, but a cultured voice interrupted the showdown and stopped me.

“Whether it’s a designer dress or not, all men care about is how easy it is to get off. And how it looks on the bedroom floor. If he cares more about a label on the garment than the woman wearing it, he’s not worth an ounce of her time.” I hadn’t noticed the opera singer had finished her set and was taking a breather when she stumbled onto this ridiculous conversation. Her eyes were bright and sharp. She looked as disgusted by the brunette’s entitlement and outdated sentiments as I felt.

If I were somewhere else, I would’ve offered the short-haired woman a high five. Instead, I could only smile at her and nod in agreement at her blunt statement.

The brunette took off in a huff after the singer firmly shut down her classism. I offered to get the singer a drink, but she turned down the offer since she wasn’t done performing for the evening. I thought she might mingle with the rest of the crowd, but she seemed content to hide in the unobtrusive corner. I introduced myself and learned her name was Beverly Taylor, and that she was a graduate student at Juilliard. She was studying to be a professional opera singer at one of the major opera houses abroad. Her level of education and sophistication was evident in every word she spoke.

“You have a beautiful voice. You’re very talented.” She really was a startlingly impressive young woman. When I was her age, my life was an absolute mess. I couldn’t imagine having such a clear career plan with a singular goal the way she did. I thought she was very impressive and less irritating than the other wealthy guests milling about. Beverly was beautiful. Her spirit shined through her big eyes, and her compassion and warmth were clear in the way she came to the rescue and stuck by my side as the vultures circled. She was noticeably fit and took care of herself. Everything about her screamed youthfulness and self-discipline. She reminded me a lot of Salome. I immediately categorized her into the “good person” box in my mind. I thought the singer was the most interesting person in the room and was glad she didn’t seem to mind lying low in the corner with me while I waited to make my escape.

It was one of those encounters where I felt like I made an instant friend, which I never imagined happening in Win’s world.

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