Page 8 of Stay Here Tonight
Maxine’s hand tightened around Lydia’s. She occasionally glanced to the side in search of the cameraman.Oh, shit, there he is.Lydia looked away before the flash went off. “It’s not a big deal,” Maxine said. “Life goes on, huh?”
“Guess so.”
A pause allowed Lydia to swallow the nerves bursting from her throat. Only now did she realize how close her torso was to Maxine’s. Did not help that Maxine was a few inches taller than her.If I look in the wrong – or right? – place, I’m staring right at her chest!Maxine’s perfume was already enough to kill Lydia where she swayed. What was that? Roses? To match the pink of her blouse and the red of her jacket? Even the lighting made her hair look a little red, but Lydia could have sworn it was dark brown.
“So you’re that receptionist at the resource center, right?”
“Yeah. I see you a couple of times a week when you come in.”
“I see. Sorry I don’t remember you well. I have a hard time with faces.”
“You recognized it enough to know you know me?”
Maxine briefly smiled, but there was nothing genuine about it.
The music came to a gradual end. Lydia was in no hurry to release Maxine’s body from hers, but as she feared, Maxine dropped hands first and respectfully nodded at her impromptu dance partner. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Oh, it was no problem! I, actually…”
No time to briefly confess an attraction or to get a sly flirt in, for Maxine stalked off to the other room. Around Lydia, couples either walked away or switched partners for the next song.
Joanie gave her two thumbs up from the side of the dance floor, but Lydia couldn’t count her lucky stars. Something didn’t sit well in her stomach. Was it butterflies? Or that strange sense of foreboding that something seriously bothered poor Maxine? Perhaps a mix of both.
Chapter 4
Why oh why had Maxine quit smoking?
Granted, it had been years since she last had a cigarette. Long enough that her physician was pleased with her overall health, let alone the state of her lungs. Still! Had there ever been a night (not countingthatnight) when Maxine wanted a cigarette more?
This party was a necessary evil. From the planning, to the getting dressed up with the help of a personal stylist who was in constant awe of Maxine’s closet, to theshowing upand listening to speeches, pleas for money, fake conversation and trash talk… ugh. Maxine had hoped this party would be a decent distraction from what happened with Penelope earlier that week. Too bad she couldn’t think about anything else.
Penelope loved these kinds of parties. She was the one who walked around, made small talk with the guests, encouraged her wife to dance with people, and even made time for a little hanky-panky in one of the locked-up offices. She wasthatinto parties.
Did not help that Angela was a huge thorn in her ass.
“You need to look happy at a fucking fundraiser! Dance with someone, please! We need to get promo shots of you for when you get back to business later this year. People don’t want to do business with a woman as standoffish as you. Sorry, but that’s how it is. Didn’t you hire me to give you the honest truth?”
Fine. Maxine could work with a lot of that. Until Angela dropped another bomb about her client’s infamous dating life ever since she split from her wife.
“If you’re not getting in a serious relationship with someone, you need to stop sleeping around. You’re getting a reputation, and it’s not a good one. It’s one thing to be promiscuous. It’s quite another to come off as bitter about it, which youare.”
No wonder Maxine was miserable at her own party. Maybe it would have been better if the venue was not her own home. Because every time Maxine opened her eyes, she saw the spots Penelope should be standing in.
Brutal.
No woman, let alone no hostess, wanted to deal with those conflicting feelings on a night like tonight. One minute she panged with loneliness, wondering where her wife was. Then she felt that dreaded jolt of fear as she recalled that gun pointed in her direction.
Who the fuck wants to be triggered at their own party?Triggered to drink and fuck was more like it.
So what if a woman had her coping mechanisms? So what if one of those mechanisms was indiscriminate sex with pretty women?
Maxine would be good. She knew most of these people, anyway. Or at least knew she would see them again, which messed up her “fuck ‘em and forget ‘em” mood.
Except for maybe that woman Angela forced her to dance with for a photo-op. That photo better come out like sunshine on roses, too, because Maxine hadn’t bothered that poor girl for nothing. Or so she hoped.
The party was mostly over by now. Thousands of dollars had been raised for the foundation and accompanying resource center, but all Maxine cared about – even after Francis came to her crying in gratitude – was stealing away to her upstairs office and drinking some scotch to take the irritable edge off.Still want that cigarette.If she weren’t afraid of becoming addicted again, she’d sneak one. Just one, of course.
Instead, she’d have to turn to other vices.
