Page 77 of Give Me a Chance
He laughs. “Hint taken, man.”
He grabs a drink while I down the rest of my champagne.
Soon, the rest of the guests start pouring in, making the task of avoiding Natalie easier. Kiara is next to me for most of the night, introducing me to everyone.
“Thomas, dear, I’d like to introduce you to my newest employee and the brains behind our wonderful theme tonight, Matt Anderson.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand firmly. The wealthy looking gentleman is the epitome of the old, white guy stereotype, and he confirms it by speaking out.
“Kiara, darling, finally decided to bring in some testosterone, huh? Good call.” He winks at her, and her smile turns from honest to barely hanging on, with a twitch in her eye.
“We’re definitely glad to have him. Don’t forget to donate.” She pulls me away.
“Sheesh, why do you put up with that?” I ask her when we’re far enough away.
A snicker escapes her. “Not all of us are privileged enough to have others care about our feelings—or the privilege of sharing those thoughts and not being ostracized. So, for one night a year, I smile through the terrible, misogynistic, xenophobic jokes, knowing their white savior complexes are the ones allowing us to use their money for something good for once.” I swallow, hit by the sincerity in her voice. She’s an amazing boss, but we never talked this openly.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I respond. She was once just like one of the kids in our care. She’s a total boss now, but I’m not dense enough to think she didn’t face obstacles along the way.
“It’s OK.” She squeezes my hand, her warm brown eyes wrinkling with a smile before leaving to grab herself a drink.
Fuck. I’m here, wallowing about Natalie, instead of putting myself a hundred percent in schmooze mode. Straightening my vest, I make my way to a group of older ladies, ready to squeeze out some money.
29
NATALIE
“We had an amazing year. We have the largest number of kids in our care to date, we expanded the reach of our programs and grew the number of volunteers.” I try to focus on my task tonight—boasting about the BYC so everyone here tonight gives us money. “We hope to have enough funds to continue the same way next year.”
“I’m sure you will, dear. We’ll do our best to help you.” The Taylors were with us from the start. The grumpy looking husband is a sweetheart to his wife, and if she decides they’ll give us an obscene amount of money, he’ll go for it.
“Thank you. You’re like our fairy godmother.” I take her hand and she chuckles.
“Oh, dear. You’re too much.” She swats my hand away but loves every moment of me sucking up to her. I know this dance well. They leave the bar area, giving me clear view of the one person I’m trying to avoid.
He looks way too good in his tux. It fits him as if it was tailored to him, his black bow tie pronouncing his jaw, his hair perfectly styled. I’m not the only one to notice.
No, the whole night he’s been accosted by numerous women. Wealthy cougars are eating him up, using every spare second to lay a touch on his arm. But what really makes my blood boil are the younger ones. Barbie-like princesses using daddy’s money to attend these kinds of events in hopes of finding their Prince Charming. By the way they never drop him out of their sights, I’d say they found him.
And he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Thanks,” I murmur to the server, grabbing another glass of champagne. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had, turning Matt’s schmoozing into a twisted drinking game. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. This stab to my belly every time he gives his attention to another woman. The stab I try to soothe with alcohol.
Every time he gives them his panty melting smirk—I drink, every casual touch they lay on him—I drink, every time they look infatuated while staring into his deep emerald eyes—I drink. When he pockets a number one of them gave him, I sway on my heels, collecting myself with another drink.
I talk to a few guests, explaining our theme, Matt’s theme, which only grates on my nerves more.
“This year we decided to go a more sustainable way,” I explain.
“And it turned out great! Sustainability is definitely trendy right now,” one of our biggest donors responds. I smile politely, thinking about Matt and the fact that sustainable isn’t a trend but a lifestyle for him.
Once again, my attention is back on him. On the way he works the room like a pro, with ease and confidence, while I drink myself stupid.
“You good?” Noah asks as I sit down next to him. Matt barely ate before getting back to socializing.
“Yup,” I respond while he eyes me curiously, pouring me a glass of water I eagerly drink. But when Matt puts his hand on the small of one girl’s back, water doesn’t cut it.
Grabbing another glass from the server is the last thing I remember.
