Considerations (5 page)

A living area with large bay windows and a large dining
room
made up this floor.
A painting of the ocean hung over the
dining
table, and as I wa
lked
over to it, I could make out the tiny brush strokes, the texture emphasizing its authenticity. The signature at the bottom right was unmistakable, and I smiled
as I wandered over to a small pantry area.

There were some narrow stairs here, and as I walked down them, I heard someone humming under her breath. I paused, and then called, "Hello?"

A head poked
out
a
round the landing and I saw a plump woman with dense, dark curls and a friendly face. "You must be Alexis," she said, "Why don't I bring you
some
breakfast upstairs?"

Her friendliness was infectious and I smiled back, "No, I'll come down."

"These stairs are meant for servants, Miss. There's a buzzer you can press if you need anything."

But I was already downstairs, admiring the modern kitchen which was clearly her
territory
. "What's your name?"

"Eva. Are you hungry?"

I nodded, and smiled. Eva walked over to the coffee machine, and made me a cappuccino. "Would you like an omelet?"

She wasn't waiting for my answer, and started beating up some eggs and bringing out veggies and cheese. I pulled a chair up to the counter and chatted with her as she worked.

She'd been
employed by
Brad's Grandpa for the past fifteen years, and he'd been a simple and honest man. Brad took after him, he wasn't like those flighty rich kids of today, she mused, shaking her head. I pressed her for more details and Eva told me that Brad rarely brought girls home these days. "Since he took over the company, it's just been work, work, work for him," she shook her head.

The omelet was done, and I sank my teeth into it, sighing out loud in delight. "This is amazing!" Eva smiled, and started clea
r
ing up the used dishes.

"What about before he took over?" I asked

"Oh
,
before that - he worked at the company, you know, as hard as any of
the other
employees. He had some girlfriends, but they never lasted. What do you do, how did you
two
meet?"

"I work
at
a law firm - "

"Oh, I thought you looked smart!"

I laughed, pleased at the compliment, but unable to accept it. "I'm not a lawyer," I admitted, "I just work there as a receptionist."

"Ah," she smiled. "That's a sweet way to meet. But most people will look at you and believe you're a lawyer. I can tell you're intelligent."

I smiled, flattered and pleased at her compliment, but I was bored talking about myself and asked her about
her life
. She had two children, she said, both in their early teens and "quite a handful".

We chatted for some time, and I excused myself to
explore the house a bit more. I found myself in the library, flipping through the books. I remembered my MAC appointment just in time, and rushed outside to hail a cab.

Sally was a petite blonde, and she was sweet and funny. I told her that I rarely wore makeup, but I needed to dress up a bit for a gala. She nodded, and started making up my face, showing me how she applied the foundation to make my complexion look flawless, and then
blended
bronzer and blush to give me stunning cheekbones.

Once again, I was impressed at how beautiful money could make an ordinary girl look. Sally defined my eyes with natural shades of eye shadow, and attached fake lashes which felt funny at first.

When she was done, she offered to give me the foundation, blush and bronzer she'd used. "You can get some things free with a paid makeover," she said, and I agreed happily, hoping I could recreate the flawless complexion and cheekbones that she'd created.

When I got home, Dereck was already waiting for me. He brushed aside my protests, and got to work immediately.

"You must make an appointment to see me," he said disapprovingly. "You have virgin hair, you must dye it."

"Oh no," I said shocked, "I'm happy being a brunette. I don't intend to go all fake and blonde!"

He tut-tutted like I was a baby. "Did I saw anything about blonde? Ugh, you would look terrible as a blonde, it would not suit your complexion at all. No, you must refresh your hair, make it shine, let me add highlights and lowlights. That will bring out your lovely complexion, make you fashionable and beautiful."

I laughed, thinking of myself as "fashionable and beautiful". Before today, I'd never used expensive makeup or had a professional makeover. I'd contended myself with slapping on some eyeliner and lipstick; dying my hair had never seemed practical to me.

But when Dereck was done and showed me his work, I admitted I was impressed. He'd teased my hair and now it lay in loose, romantic curls. My makeup looked natural and pretty and I felt like this business of looking "fashionable and beautiful" might be fun.

Once he left, I changed into my pink dress again. The black dress seemed too stuffy, and the blue-green one was too casual. Looking in the mirror, I twirled, feeling both silly and excited.

Brad was home a few minutes before 5.30, and he rushed me into the limo, teasing me
for
wearing the pink dress again. I laughed happily, ignoring him and wondering if I needed more of these pretty dresses.

"It's good you're in high spirits," said Brad, "Try not to drink too much tonight."

I bristled, "I'm not a child, you don't have to tell me. And I'm not an alcoholic, either!"

"That's not what I meant," he smiled. It seemed impossible to ruffle his feathers. "They can be mean sometimes, but they've all got inferiority complexes. That's what happens when the only things you've got in the world are inherited money or good looks."

"I guess I was lucky then," I said drily.

He smiled. "In a way, you are."

I decided to follow his lead and stay in a good mood, so I smiled back.

When the limo pulled up, I let him
get out first
and help me step out. As we walked up the red carpet I saw light bulbs flash, and photographers yelled for us to look their way. I smiled nervously, and hoped I wouldn't trip. Thankfully, we were inside soon and I breathed again, glad I hadn't embarrassed myself.

"Come on, let's start off with some fun," Brad murmured, nodding to some people as we walked towards the centre of the room. A waiter passed by with a drinks tray, and
as
we swiped two glasses off him, I remembered Brad's warning not to drink. There were waitresses circulating with delicious-looking hors d'oeuvres but I noticed that nobody was eating.

"Edna," Brad let go of my hand and hugged a grey-haired lady in a maroon dress. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

I saw her smile as they exchanged pleasantries, and Brad finally introduced me, "Edna, this is my friend Alexis."

She embraced me in a warm hug, and I felt the empathy in her voice as she asked me whether this was my first time at a gala. I nodded shyly, and admitted, "I'm just trying not to make a fool of myself."

She laughed, and said, "Oh as long as you don't rise to the bait, the sharks won't get you."

I wondered what she meant, but it didn't seem appropriate to ask. Instead, I asked her what she did, and she told me she owned an art gallery.

"But don't ask anyone else what they do, my dear," she winked, "You might not like the answer. Most of these women are just successful gold-diggers. Oh, not you, of course!"
S
he laughed as she saw the shock on my face, and I wondered how she didn't see it. "You don't have that thin, hungry look they do."

Brad smiled, and I joined in Edna's laughter, as I said, "You mean I'm not tall and thin enough."

Edna turned to Brad and smiled, "You don't want to let her get away, Brad. Her bluntness will keep you sane."

"I don't
want
to let her get away," Brad smiled, "But I have to go and say hello to some folks."

He excused himself and walked off, as a few more people joined Edna and
I.
They said hello to her, and Edna introduced me to them, but their names and faces were a blur. They were all dressed formally and made up nicely, the women had shiny hair and they were all much taller than me.

In
Paris
, the pink dress had magically made me feel confident and beautiful, and I'd hoped that I'd get the same effect tonight. But despite the dress and my professional hair and makeup, I couldn't help feeling like I was shrinking. Beside these
tall,
slim women and muscular men, I felt like I was three feet tall and my conversation skills were flat and dull.

Edna had slipped away somehow, and I looked around but couldn't see her.

"So, Alexis," purred one of the women with coiffed golden hair, "How did you and Brad meet?"

"Oh, he met me when he came to see my boss. I work at a law firm."

I felt their
gazes appraising me. "Really?" asked another woman, arching her eyebrow. "You don't look like a lawyer to me. Aren't most of them fat women who wear glasses? You don't wear glasses."

There was laughter all around, but I ignored the jibe and smiled, wondering how I could escape the crowd. The drink in my hand was empty, and I tried to excuse myself to get another glass. But a waiter chose to pass by us right at that moment, and someone handed me another glass of champagne.

"You know," said a young blonde in a grey dress, "Once you've been with Brad, you'll have a hard time dating other men. Like, they'll all feel inferior, and you'll be like
Madonna
- nobody wants to follow
Guy Ritchie
."

"That's ok," I said, "I wouldn't mind being single and travelling the world."

"Yes," sighed a tall brunette, "But can you really be happy when you're alone."

"I'm sure
I
wouldn't mind," said a stocky man in a pinstriped suit, and the group laughed as I realized he was the brunette's husband.

"Come on," murmured someone at my right, placing my drink on a passing waiter's tray and taking my arm, "I think you need to dance."

I didn't protest as he led me to the dance floor. It was nice to get away from that fickle group, and I wondered how they could stand each other, with their veiled insults and meaningless jabber.

"You know," he murmured, turning me around to face him as he clasped my hand and placed his other
arm
on my waist, "Fiona is
completely
wrong."

I presumed Fiona was one of the catty Amazonians, but I had no idea what she was wrong about. I looked into his face curiously,
taking in
his thick salt 'n' pepper hair and stylish suit. His eyes were a dark green, and they
twinkled
with amusement.
I felt a spark fly through me, and I had to remind myself I was at the gala with Brad, not
Green Eyes
.

"You have no idea who Fiona is, do you?" he asked, and I
shook my head
while he twirled me around. "She was the one who said that you'd be alone
for the rest of your life
."

"
I don't really care either way," I shrugged, "And I'm sure things that are meant to be, will be. If I meet someone else, I'll meet someone else."

He smiled, "That's my point exactly. You'll find someone else, Brad isn't all that great. Maybe you should get out of this
meaningless
thing
with Brad
already, there are heaps of nicer guys around." He raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Guys with green eyes and nicer hair."

I laughed at his flirtatiousness, and he continued, "I've never seen you at one of these events before."

I
tilted my head, trying to act as sophisticated as everyone else there,
and flirted back
, "Yes, and clearly everyone near me can smell the fresh blood."

I saw something
glint
in his eyes, as he let go of my waist and spun me around.

When I was back in his arms, he said, "Everyone likes fresh blood. It's just a question of who the fresh blood prefers to be with."

The hand on my waist jerked me closer
, till I was squashed against him. I didn't even know his name, I thought in a panic, as I tried to move back and heard him chuckle. There were too many people around, and I didn't want to cause a scene, as he pressed me closer, sliding his hand up my back
,
pushing
my breasts against him.

"Let me go," I whispered, but he pretended not to hear.