Page 20 of Little Gray Dress

Morgan and I follow Greta halfway around the room and film her asking a few people some questions that she doesn’t slur through. She’s obviously got experience keeping her cool on camera when wasted. I’m sure she’d make any reality TV station a fortune. The tabloids would eat her up.

“Oh!” she yells and turns towards me. “I found a co-shtar.” She points towards the table where Jack is setting plates. “He ish…delishish.”

There are a few too many shs in her words for me to deny the fact that she’s completely lit. And now she’s after my boyfriend.

“What? No, he’s my fiancé. He doesn’t want to be in the commercial.”

“That’sh your fianshé? No way?!” Her emphasis on your makes my skin crawl. Why would she be so surprised that Jack is with me?

“Come on.” She prances across the room, hardly even wobbling on her platform heels. Her drunken strut is nowhere near as clumsy as mine would be.

Morgan and I follow her across the room, which seems to be at the speed of a moderate jog. I motion to Morgan to stop filming and he wastes no time setting down the camera and grabbing the plate of food Jack got for him.

“Hey, Ems.”

“You. Are. Beautiful.” Greta pulls Jack against her and breathes into his ear.

“I, uh—” he looks over at me, eyes widened, a stunned look on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Jack, this is Aron’s daughter, Greta. She’s supposed to be my host for the commercial we’re trying to shoot.”

“Oh.” He kindly reaches back and removes her hand from his ass before putting both his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away from him. “Nice to meet you, Greta.”

I bite my bottom lip hard to keep from completely losing it at his disgusted face. From the looks of it you’d think Greta has some kind of infectious disease that Jack is trying to keep away from. I’m sure there’s an STD or three floating around areas I’d rather not picture.

“Yhou are perfffect, we ssshould do thish together.” Her drunkenness is really starting to show now. The extra sounds within her words are becoming more and more exaggerated.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice Aron is heading in our direction. Shit.

“Greta, your dad is coming.” Why can’t he mingle instead of choosing now to check on how his star of a daughter is coming along in her performance?

She immediately straightens up and loops her arm through Jack’s, holding onto his elbow as if he was walking her down the aisle. Or maybe she’s just using him as a stabilizer in case she loses her balance. “Daddy, have you met my date?”

“I haven’t.” He ignores me and heads straight to Jack, hand extended. “It’s great to meet you, son, what do you do for a living?” Trust Aron to immediately quiz a potential suitor of his daughter’s on what he does for a living.

“Um… I’m a lawyer at Morgan, Steller & Cabot?” Jack says it like he’s not even sure, and glances at me for assistance.

“A lawyer—”

I cut Aron off. “Actually, Aron, this is my fiancé, Jack.” I get a confused look from both Greta and Aron. ‘You actually met him last summer at the company picnic?’ I stare at his shaking head and scrunched face. He obviously doesn’t remember.

“He belongsh wifth me.” Greta glares down at me. “Daddy, telll himm.”

“Greta is a fine young woman. But if he belongs to Emi, I respect that.” It’s as if we’re talking about an object, which I can tell by looking at Jack is not something he’s very impressed with.

“WHHAT?!” Greta yells, gaining the attention of the people near us. “No. Look at him? He’sh gorgeoush, he’sh well off and shhe is jusht… ugh!” The disgusted noise coming from her makes me want to crawl into a hole and die. If only she would hiccup randomly through her sentences she’d be the description of an obnoxious drunk. “Shhe should be wifth hims.” She points to Morgan, who has a steak halfway to his mouth without using a fork. “He’sh like, ew and she’sh like, ew. Jusht trusht me… I’ll take goood care of hiiimm.” She pats Jack’s ass again with her free hand and tries to plant a kiss on his lips, but stumbles over her own step, tightening her grip on Jack’s arm that is outstretched to keep her away.

“I don’t think so.” Jack somehow manages to escape her grip, causing her to fall over and slump down into a nearby chair. “I’m with Emi and I’m perfectly happy with that.” He wraps an arm around me, pulling me as close to him as possible before clearing his throat and loosening his tie with his free hand. “But I’ve no doubt, any man would be lucky to have you.” He politely smiles at Aron but avoids direct eye contact with crazy Greta. Likely for fear that she’ll take it as some kind of marriage proposal.

My Jack. Always the gentleman, in even the strangest of situations.

Greta suddenly starts wailing some kind of snorting cry or distress signal, and Aron kneels down by her chair. A few sniffs into the air and I’ve no doubt he’s discovered she’s had more than just one drink. “What did you do to her?” Aron asks me, pointing at a now slurring, sobbing, slumped-over Greta.

“Nothing. We were trying to prep her on the commercial—”

“SHHOW!” Greta yells the word at me.

“And she was only interested in the bar so we uh—”

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