Wasted Words by Staci Hart
Her eyes bugged. “Each?”
“Yup. Honestly, it’s not even that much in the way of these kinds of things.”
“That’s five million dollars raised,” she said, gaping.
“It’s a good cause, and Jack writes it off. No one’s kids are starving because we’re here, don’t worry.”
She shook her head. “That’s just crazy. I’m about to eat a five-thousand-dollar meal. I don’t even think I’ve ever had a hundred-dollar meal.”
I smiled down at her. “Don’t think of it that way. Think of it as a free dinner. With me.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” She looked nervous, her eyes shining a little in the dark cab. “Just hold my hand.”
I brushed my knuckles against her cheek. “Always.”
A little while later, we were walking up the stairs inside the hotel lobby, heading for the grand ballroom. Cam was on my arm, taking everything in as we followed a loose crowd of people in cocktail attire. When we reached the ballroom and gave the attendants our name, we headed into the opulent room, and Cam looked around, awestruck.
The space was vast, with high ceilings set with massive chandeliers that twinkled softly. A large dance floor stood at the end of the long room, and tables dotted most of the space, with two bars situated across from each other.
“Wow,” Cam said, her voice full of wonder, her arm, hooked in mine, squeezing gently. Her eyes wandered all over the room like she was soaking in a fantasy, taking it all in, her red lips parted just enough to see a sliver of white teeth behind them.
But I was only looking at her. “You can say that again.”
CRAZY HE CALLS ME
Cam
I STOOD AS STRAIGHT AS I could, hanging onto Tyler like I’d drown if I let him go. It was like something out of another world, like a ballroom in a castle. I supposed in a way that it was like modern royalty, this kind of grand luxury. It looked a little like a theater, with two floors of balconies along the walls where people milled around above us, talking and laughing, the steady hum of people under the music coming from the booth at the far end of the room. Everything was lit up, colors shifting from pinks to reds to purples to blues and around again, reflecting off the massive chandeliers hanging above us.
Tyler and I made our way to the bar to wait in line, and once I had whiskey in my hand, I felt loads better.
I took a sip, feeling the warmth of the whiskey as it moved through me.
Tyler looked like a dream, so tall and handsome, smiling brightly as we wandered through the crowd, stopping occasionally when he came across someone he knew. And he knew a lot of people — football players, baseball and basketball players, agents, sales reps, sportscasters. I did my best to remember everyone’s names, making associations. Jerry loves Derek Jeter: Jeter Jerry. Sam went to Purdue: Sucky Sam.
What? I grew up in Iowa. Football is one of the few things, besides reading and keggers, that there is to do. And Purdue sucks.
When we finally found Jack, he was standing with his wife and a group of other agents from their firm. His hair was cropped and combed neatly, his gray mustache trimmed and eyes crisp and blue. He lit up as we approached.
“Hey, you two made it.” He extended a hand, which Tyler took, pumping it once with a smile.
“Hey, Jack,” he said. “You remember Cam.”
“How could I forget,” he said, bending to kiss me on the cheek. “That mac and cheese you sent Tyler with knocked my socks off, kiddo.”
I laughed. “Happy to keep you fed, Jack.”
He turned to the woman at his side, smiling proudly. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Anne.”
Anne was beautiful, the apples of her cheeks high and cheerful, her straight hair in a tidy bob. “Nice to meet you, Cam. And it’s good to see you, Tyler. Jack said you’re heading home this weekend? Meeting with Darryl?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod. “It’ll be nice to get to a game and see my family, too. A two-for-one deal.”
“I’ll bet. You’ll have to tell your mom and dad I said hello. We’ve got to get back down there to see them soon.”
“I’m sure they’d like that. You glad to have Jack home?”
She rolled her eyes. “Usually not, but this time, you bet. I knew how much trouble that trip was going to be, and I was loath to send Jack into the trenches.”
Jack chuckled. “She loves when I’m gone. She doesn’t have to hide her shopping bags.”
“It’s a stress I don’t like to discuss,” she joked. “I’m glad Pharaoh is worked out, for the time being, at least.”
Jack huffed and lifted his glass to his lips. “It better be for good. I’m not doing that again. Next time, I’m sending Tyler.”
Tyler snickered and pulled me close, and someone came up to talk to Jack and Anne. I glanced around again, finally feeling a little settled, aided by Tyler’s arm around me, and the whiskey too.
“Oh, man. I forgot,” I said, trying to open my bag one-handed. “Here, hold this for me for one second.” I passed my drink to him and dug in my clutch for my phone. “Ah-ha! I swore to myself I’d take a selfie tonight.”
He laughed. “Here, let me take a picture for you.”
“No. There’s something even more desperate about getting someone to take a picture for you than taking a selfie. Don’t ask me why. That’s just how social media works.”
I held my phone out, trying to look inconspicuous, and snapped a picture. It was horrible. I frowned and tried again, making a kissy face, but I looked ridiculous. I took my drink from Tyler and tried one of me sipping it, but that didn’t work either — my face was flat as a pancake, and I had at least one extra chin.