Page 39 of Brooklynaire
“That’s the truth, officer,” I say. “Now come closer so I can do this right.” I hold up thetie.
Nate hesitates for just a second, and I wonder if the man doubts my bow-tie abilities. But then he steps closer and lifts hischin.
I raise the collar on his shirt and slip the silk around it. Up close, Nate’s scent is familiar—clean laundry and shaving soap. I take a deep breath and feel energized. “So, about this thing tonight,” I say, fussing with the tie. I’m a little short for this job so Nate stoops down a little to help me reach. “Am I your buffer for the whole evening? Or just the beginningpart?”
“Just for drinks,” he says in a rough voice. “Alex can’t buttonhole me all evening. She’ll have to work the room for her charitablecause.”
“Awesome!” I tie it carefully, then tug the two sides of the bow into place, and then adjust them. I’ve done good work here. “I want to dance with basketball players. They’re probably quick on theirfeet.”
Nate frowns. “It’s almost time to meet Alexdownstairs.”
“I know, slave driver. Let me grab my clutch.” I step over to my manicure toolbox and snap it shut. “Can I leave my things here for now?” I tuck the case under a luggagerack.
“Of course,” Lauren says quickly. “Havefun.”
I grab my clutch—a sequined little thing I found at a flea market—and slip into my red pumps—only two-inch heels, because a girl with balance issues needs to play it safe. With a wave to the girls, I follow Nate out the door. “Cheer up, boss,” I chatter as Nate hits the elevator button. “We’re at a beach, and my handbag sparkles. It’s going to be a goodnight.”
His face softens. “Fine. I’ll try to have a good time. I haven’t seen Alex in a couple months,anyway.”
“Whynot?”
“Busy.” He shrugs. “Her office is twenty blocks from mine. But we haven’t made thetime.”
As the elevator descends toward the lobby, I realize something important about my own life—something I don’t usually appreciate. It’s scary sometimes to worry about money and making ends meet. But I have freedoms Nate doesn’t enjoy. When I clock out of work, it’s over. I’m free to see friends and think about anything that strikes myfancy.
I give my boss a sideways glance, studying his serious expression. Nate is never off the clock. No matter what the hour, he’s always the last stop on the decision train for a company of several thousand people and a gazillionshareholders.
Being ordinary has its perks. Strange buttrue.
The elevator doors part on the spacious lobby. I fail, however, to make a grand entrance. The motion of the elevator has disoriented me, so that I have to grab the wall for a moment before I dare step out in myheels.
Flats would have been the way to go, Isuppose.
“Everything okay?” Nate asksquietly.
I glance up into his face; I see worry there. “Totally fine. This is just a temporary setback.” When I smile at him, it’s easy. I’m not faking my optimism this time. I’m going to crush this vestibular problem and make itcry.
Just as soon as I get out of thiselevator.
Nate offers me his arm, and I take it without complaint. He feels sturdy, and I appreciate him more right this second than maybe everbefore.
Also, he smellsnice.
We make our way across the grand lobby spaces at a leisurely pace. The benefit has commandeered the back patio of the hotel. A sign is already warning hotel guests away from the private event. (Ticketholders only beyond this point!) There are enormous white curtains hanging from two stories up and velvet ropes dividing the black-tie partygoers from the mere mortals. At a thousand dollars a head, I suppose the attendees ought to feelspecial.
A tux-wearing bouncer unhooks a velvet rope to let us pass. “Good evening, sir. The event manager is just inside if you needanything.”
“Thank you,” Nate says as wepass.
On the other side of the curtains, the hotel lobby just…stops. Giant glass doors have been pushed apart to reveal a swimming pool with an “infinite edge,” its water lapping at the travertine tiles that surround it. Around the pool is a lawn, which gives way to thebeach.
In the distance, the beach has been roped off, and there are already two security guards posted down there as sentries. No ruffians shall invade theparty.
The guests aren’t here yet, though. I see only staff, and one woman alone in an asymmetrical designer dress.Alex.
She’s waiting at the far end of the lawn, on a barstool, alone. Alex is beautiful in that effortless way that rich women are. There’s probably a whole team of specialists who maintain her honeyed hair color and her wardrobe. As we approach, she regards us with cool, intelligent eyes. “Hey stranger,” she says when we’re within a conversational distance. She slides off the stool and steps forward to give Nate ahug.
“Hey!” He gives her a squeeze. “You rememberRebecca?”
