Page 3 of The Blowout

Beelining for that area, I jump when I hear my sister’s name being called out in greeting. It takes me a second to clue in that I need to respond.

I am Gillian tonight. I am Gillian.

Oh man, I was already exhausted with this game of pretend. I wave back, not stopping to chat. I need to make my way to the stage, check in with Jenna—whoever that was—leave a drink at my place setting to show that I was there and then get the heck out of here.

“Oh my God! Gillian! Thank goodness you’re here.” A beautiful woman with strawberry-blond hair and a midnight-blue dress that clings to all her curves jumps out at me as soon as I hit the stage area. “Shit. Your hair looks amazing tonight! Damn, girl.”

For a second, I expect the woman to give me another once-over and know instantly I’m not Gillian. But she doesn’t. She’s beaming at me like we’re longtime friends. Maybe we are. Gillian and I didn’t go over who she hung out with at work and who she didn’t.

My free hand goes up to my hair, giving it another small fluff and gathering it to one side. “Thank you. Your dress though…” I give her a chef’s kiss in the air.

“You’re too sweet.” She waves her hands around, shutting her eyes for a moment. “But you have perfect timing. We have a problem.”

No, we didn’t. No, we couldn’t have a problem. I was assured everything would run like clockwork.What happened to easy peasy!

“Jenna! I need you here,” someone calls from the curtained area and the woman I’m speaking to gestures for a moment more with her hand to the caller. Oh, so this is Jenna. Okay.

“No, Jenna. We can’t have a problem. Everything was double-checked, triple-checked today.” Gillian had promised. She told me everything was set. My voice is growing louder with each word I say. Panic is starting to bubble and build in my stomach, making me queasy.

“I know.” She brings her intertwined hands up to her mouth. “But one of the girls didn’t show due to a stomach bug.”

Girls? Girls! What kind of auction was this? I can feel all the color drain from my face. Wasn’t this a charity event? I was led to believe this was a silent auction. Oh crap. Oh hell.

“What do we do?” I ask her, my voice shaking. Jenna looks at me with complete befuddlement. Crap balls,Iwas supposed to have the answers. I’m going to kill my sister when I get home.

My brain is working overtime, trying to think up something, even though I have no idea what the real situation is, when Jenna walks over to a small podium and grabs a clipboard.

“How about you go up? That was always the absolute worst-case scenario plan, right?”

“It was!” I cry out, startling Jenna. “I mean, yes. It is the absolute worst-case scenario. So…” I draw out the word. “I guess I am subbing in…”

Jenna does a dance of celebration while I try not to throw up. I stiffly raise my hands and do a little shake, trying to mimic her excitement. I need to find a corner to have a panic attack in. This is madness.

“Okay, so you’ll be going out third. You know the drill once you’re on stage.” She giggles at this, making me feel even sicker. “Why don’t you go put your stuff down in the back room and then we’ll go over the cues one more time.”

I nod, not sure what I’m agreeing to, but if it gets me a moment alone to panic and hyperventilate, I’m all for it.

Forcing a smile—which has apparently become my new thing tonight—I walk on shaky legs toward the curtain, batting it away to pass through. Pressing my lips together to keep the scream of frustration in my throat, I move farther down the dim backstage.

“Oh thank goodness,” I whisper to myself when I see a food table at the other end. I definitely need a donut to calm my nerves—this dress be damned. Carbs are my savior tonight.

I’m midbite, my free hand reaching for another donut, when a deep voice calls my sister’s name and has me freezing in place. My gaze darts all around, trying to find an escape route. If I’m not allowed to eat these donuts, there should be a sign or something. Since I’ve already taken a bite out of two, they’re mine now. No turning back at this point. My mouth is full of frosted goodness as I slowly turn around.

And holy mother of smoulder, I come face-to-face with a gorgeous thundercloud. He’s wearing a flattering mix of grays and blacks, his suit finely pressed and buttoned perfectly. I’ve never seen eyes so dark before. A dark brown with tiny flecks of gold. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was Lucifer himself popping up to add to my torture tonight.

Swallowing, I brush the crumbs from around my lips. Bringing a fist to cover my mouth, I clear my throat before smiling at the man. At least, I think I’m smiling. I can’t be sure because he’s completely shocked me.

“Hi, Charles,” Jenna calls hesitantly from behind me. The man nods and I hear her walk away again.

I wrack my brain for a Charles. Has Gill mentioned this man before? Then it hits me. Oh, Charles equals Charlie. Duh me. Gill has talked about him before. If I recall right, he works down in marketing. Though looking at the handsome man before me, there’s no way he’s in his twenties. Isn’t he teased for always being carded when their group goes out for drinks after work? Strange.

I could do this though. Gillian may not have told me how to handle talking to work friends, but it should be easy. I could probably mimic their relationship dynamic—which I’m hoping was respectful but chill.

Facing him fully, I give him a bright smile. His eyes assess me, squinting just the tiniest bit. I have a moment of fear that he knows I’m not Gillian, but the thought disappears as fast as I can think it. There’s no way.

“Good evening, Charlie.”

His jaw ticks, giving me the impulse to step forward and touch the area. Thank God I don’t do that. How embarrassing would that be? Also, it would absolutely give me away.

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