Page 95 of Intoxicated
And love.
We reach the venue twenty minutes later. You know Portland has changed in my lifetime when we step out of our limo and meet an empty city street. Not entirely empty, I suppose. There are valets and security present, but the only through traffic are the buses. The sidewalk is closed to pedestrians and scooters, something your average man couldn’t score without greasing some serious wheels at city hall. For all I know, the mayor is here tonight. We are certainly serenaded by the voices of those put out because they have to cross the street to get around the building. But the hearts of the people attending this party tonight are too “soft” to put up with what Portland really looks like on a daily basis. It honestly doesn’t feel the same without someone screaming at me to give them money or simply screaming at themselves. At least we still get that faint whiff of pee.
Nothing makes a man feel fancier.
“Stay close, dear.” My father wraps his arm around my mother’s and escorts her fragile soul into the building. I stay a bit behind to chat up the doorman, mostly because he looks familiar. Turns out he used to hang out with a buddy of mine and we’ve met at a party before.
My parents know I can take care of myself, so they go ahead. This party’s fancy, but it doesn’t require us to be announced together. I’ll saunter in once I’m done saying hello to everyone who looks half-familiar. By the time I enter the ballroom, I’ve had my fill of heady perfume and overpowering cologne. One of my father’s golfing buddies runs up to shake my hand. Did I say golfing buddies? Actually, I know him best as a former client of mine. Seems he has a new squeeze in his life, or else I’m misremembering the lovely young lady clinging to his arm. This guy is in trouble. How do I know? Because she looks like the same woman I humiliated for him a year ago.Notthe same, though. He simply has a type, and that type will be his downfall one day.
Many of these men are with women who will probably clean them out, either in a divorce or when the men aren’t looking. I don’t only mean the younger ones who are clearly hanging on for the money, either. I mean the First Wives Club, some of whom are currently none the wiser about their husbands’ wanderings. Or he’ll come home one day with a brand-new Porsche and she’ll realize he’s cleared out the retirement fund to fuel his mid-life crisis.
Sometimes the women are at fault, of course, but after you’ve seen a number of these breakups, you notice that the most common denominator is the clueless guy who doesn’t realize he needs to change himself before he finds lasting love. Why do that when his money always ensures the next hottie is around the corner?
Here’s my first ethical quandary about my new business. Should I attempt to get my future clients to understand their own relationship failings? Am I selling a lasting relationship? Or do I merely give them what they want atthismoment? Which is almost always going to be young, nubile pussy…
Tonight would be an excellent chance to test those theories. There are many single men here, as well as those that seem happy in their long-term relationships (for now, anyway.) Even some of the ones who are with their young sweethearts continue to look at them with hearts in their eyes. Some of those young women look at them with the same hearts. Almost makes me believe in love, you know?
Fuck. Of course I believe in love. I’ve felt it, haven’t I?
I don’t get a chance to test any hypotheses. I’ve barely bumped into my father over by the open bar when he quickly grabs me by the arm and turns me to the man he’s been talking to since I wandered away.
“Drew! Let me introduce you to my new friend, Brian Samuels. Been playing a bit of golf with him. He has a handicap of negative six down at the country club! Can you believe it?”
I flash a smile at the man who can’t be that much older than me. Brown hair and a brand-new tux clings to his body as if he’s wearing it for the first time. Outside of somebody’s wedding a few weeks ago, it probably is. You can always tell who is used to wearing a tuxedo and who is pretending to be used to them. How often they tug their jacket down is the number one indicator.
“Pleasure to meet you, Brian. I’m Drew.” I withdraw my hand after our firm shake. No, I have no idea who this guy is. Should I? I can’t be assed to remember every single acquaintance my father introduces me to. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast sometime. Unless I liked you at some other party or you’re one of my former clients, I’m probably not going to remember your face or name. You know, unless you’re a woman. “Don’t listen to whatever my father tells you about his handicap. I know for a fact that his golf game is much better than his story-telling skills.”
My father claps me on the back before wagging a finger in my face. “How can you know when you’re never down at the links anymore? Do you know how long it’s been since he last went golfing with his old man?” he asks Brian. “Three damn years! We’re lucky he ever comes down from Seattle these days.”
I chuckle. “Never was much into the game, if you can believe it.”
Brian’s smile is as fake as his laughter. What a kiss-ass. Like I can’t tell what’s going on here. Before I know it, my father will tell me that Brian is in software development. Everyone knows that Benton Basics is one of the biggest software creation and deployment firms in Portland, and that’s with a smaller crew than some of the others around here. My father was always a believer in spending extra money for the right talent.“You buy Italian loafers that will last you ten years, don’t you?”he once explained to me.“Why wouldn’t you entice the best in their field to come work with you, even if you spend a little more on their salary and benefits? They’ll make you back double what someone cheaper ever could.”Sound advice, Dad. Now, hire more people to ensure that great, bright talent you’ve hired doesn’t die of exhaustion before they retire with your generous 401k.
For all I know, that’s what he’s doing with Brian here.
“I’m not as good as he says I am, anyway,” Brian says. “I’m always getting distracted on the course.”
“Damn straight he is!” My father claps Brian on the shoulder like he’s the golden son. Fine by me. I can only get beaten up my dad so many times before my doctor questions the clap-marks on my own shoulder. “Last time we met, he couldn’t shut the hell up about this girl.”
Blushing, Brian replies, “Are you complaining, sir? Gives you an edge.”
“No edge is worth it if not honorably earned. Then again, from the way you tell it, you’ve got an edge over all of us in the romance department! Drew recently broke up with a girl.”
I shrug. “Not all of us can be so lucky in love.”
“Ah! Here comes the lovely young lady.” My dad flags down someone. I don’t bother turning my head, although the splash of color in my peripheral vision piques my interest. “Why don’t you introduce your lovely girlfriend to my son. Careful, though, he might steal her.”
My father jams his elbow into Brian’s side. Brian, who is still all laughter as he coddles his bruised rib looks at me as if it might be true. I’m compelled to wink at him. “I am a bit of a ladies’ man,” I say. “I make no promises.”
Brian’s face falls. My father roars in laughter.
“That would certainly match everything I’ve heard about you, Mr. Benton.”
Such a familiar voice was expected tonight, but not now. Not like this, on the arm of a guy who barely looks like he’s out of college and making his own way in the world.
Yet there she is. The radiant queen who has graced us with our presence. A woman so above us with her lofty ambitions that she makes my father’s businesses look positively quaint.
I’m statue-still as Cher places a gentle arm on Brian’s arm. He turns to her with that knowing look of lust in his eyes. Right here, in front of God and me, he kisses Cher on the cheek and turns to me in a dare for me to steal her.
I just might.
