Page 7 of The Guest

This is my kind of party. Just her and me. Screw everyone else.

“Were you serious about what you said yesterday?” she asks, adding a custard tart to the plate.

“Which one?”

“The business.”

“Of course. I wasn’t pulling your leg. It has potential.” Doubt crosses her features, and I put the fork down. “What is it?”

“I haven’t worked out everything yet. What I told you, that was all. I don’t have plans for the marketing and designs, but I know what I want—the vision, the branding, even the name.”

“That’s good enough. Besides, you’re still in college, right?”

“I will graduate next year.”

“So you still have time.”

“But I still don’t know a lot of things, Kevin. I was confident last night because I wanted to piss off my dad.” She goes quiet, her eyebrows drawing together.

“Kara, you don’t need to know everything. That’s why you hire brilliant people. You delegate. You have a vision, and you know how to get there. That’s enough for now. You’ll learn as you go. If you’re not good with marketing, hire someone who can help your brand take off. The same thing goes for the logistics and other technical aspects.”

“God, I wish I could be like you.”

“No, you don’t. I wasn’t given a choice with my future. It was a given that I would take over one day, so I just did my best to learn all I could.”

“You don’t like it?”

I think for a moment and shake my head once. “I do. I learned to like it eventually. All I’m saying is, take it easy. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

She gives me a lopsided grin. “You know, your hot meter goes up ten times when you go all-businesslike.”

“Then maybe we can?—”

“Kara, baby. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh my God,” Kara groans and rolls her eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

A young man staggers through the crowd. His black suit jacket hangs open, one side slipping off his shoulder, and his black bowtie dangles loosely around his neck.

“Hey, Kara.” His speech is slurred, his voice louder than necessary. He points a glass to Kara, splashing a few drops on the grass. “There’s my girl!”

I step in front of Kara, shielding her from him. She holds my arm and hisses at the other guy, “Why are you already drunk?”

“I may have discovered your wine cellar. Your dad is there right now, showing us his collection. I took the taste testing too seriously.” His words are slow, and each syllable is stretched. “Did you miss me?”

Before Kara can answer, I square my shoulders and pin him with a look. “Go sober up. This is not that kind of party.”

He stumbles closer, and I gently push Kara behind me. “Who are you? Why are you with Kara?” He doesn’t wait for me to respondand instead whines, “Baby, who is this? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“God, Kent. I don’t want to talk to you, and stop calling me baby.”

“Why? You don’t like me anymore?”

“I have never liked you. Now leave me alone.”

He steps to me, his breath reeking of whiskey. His bloodshot eyes flick to her. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Her future husband.”

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