Page 39 of Rules in Love
Finn’s fingers spanned over the small of my back, and his grip tightened, pulling me so close my head came to rest between my hands on his chest. I closed my eyes, possibly sniffed him, and didn’t move. Neither of us spoke. We just stood there, locked in an embrace I never wanted to end. How long we stayed that way was anyone’s guess, but at some point, Jason finished speaking. He dropped the microphone onto the table, a dull thud and squeal echoed through the room, and a smattering of applause broke out. It was an unwelcome reminder to the public nature of our embrace. I jumped from Finn’s arms, took a step or two back, and watched as he used it as an opportunity to check me out.
“Red, wow. You’re… You’re…”
I popped my hip. “Wonder Woman.”
“Stunning.”
“Oh.” My blush was a deeper red than my cape. “Thanks, Finn. Or is it Superman? Or Clark?”
“Scarlett, my dear, tonight I don’t give a damn. Call me whatever the fuck you like.”
My knees buckled beneath me. It was the first time I’d swooned over a Scarlett O’Hara/Gone with the Windgag. It was also the first one to make me snort.
“We should take a seat. Dinner is ready to be served,” I said like a robotic waiter. “You’re over there.” I pointed to Finn’s table by the window.
His brow furrowed with concern as he looked at it and back to me. “Scarlett, where are you sitting?”
I pointed to the other side of the room. “At that table, over by the bar, with Teddy, Victoria, and Arthur the IT guy. I did have you with us, but someone I won’t name…Jason…made me change it.”
The brow furrowing intensified to a scowl. “Uh-uh. No way am I spending the night that far away from you.” Seizing my hand, he walked me straight up to Arthur, took out his wallet and handed him a fifty-dollar note. “Mate, I must sit here. Take this and fuck off.”
“Yes, sir.” Now, I knew how much Arthur made. He told everyone in the office several times when he last had a raise. But he genuinely looked at that fifty like he had never seen one. He choked, jumped from his seat, and left. Finn waved his hand before the empty chair, and I sat with a smile almost as big as the creepy one Teddy was sporting.
“Do people always do what you tell them?” I asked Finn as he adjusted his costume to sit.
“Do you always call Arthur, Arthur the IT guy, like it’s his full name?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“What about Gareth, and Victoria?”
“Gareth the Creep,” I started flatly. “I don’t have a name for Victoria. I don’t know enough about her, and she seems too perfect to make fun of. Teddy calls her Vicky. She hates it. I love it.”
My heart spasmed and swelled as he chuckled, “I love it too. And no, people rarely do what I say, hence the fifty. People respect money here, Red. If I tried that at home, I’d probably get my face kicked in.”
“That would be a shame. It’s so lovely.”
FUCK!
I wanted to die immediately. Teddy almost gagged on his mouthful of pina colada, and Finn lit the room with a smile brighter than any damn disco ball.
Scarlett
You know that feeling when you eat so much rich and creamy food—apparently everything from the seventies—you think food may fly right out your mouth or your stomach will explode if you move?
Try having that while being tipsy and in a Wonder Woman costume so skimpy it would possibly be illegal in Utah and parts of Texas.
Most of the evening’s dishes sounded disgusting when the chef described them to me, but they were delicious, rich—sumptuous, even. Not so good for your breath or waistline, though.
Our appetizers were the height of 70’s class and sophistication: deviled eggs, shrimp cocktail, Swedish meatballs, and fondue. There was also Finn and Teddy’s favorite—and the butt of many jokes—cheese logs. For entrees, we had a choice of Moussaka, beef bourguignon, or chicken a la king, served with Watergate or three-bean salad. With pumpkin pecan delight, trifle, and some lethal rainbow Jell-O shots rounding out the night, you can see why I, and most everyone else, was a little limp and sloppy.
Listening to the speeches right after eating didn’t aid digestion. Long-winded, rambling, and shit were three words you could use to describe them, as were tedious, dull, and mind-numbing. Each of the firm’s partners praised the old man, who sat beside them merrily nodding at how brilliant he was and guzzling a never-ending stream of Tom Collins cocktails. When it came to the man of the hour’s turn, he was off-his-face drunk, almost unintelligible, yet somehow still dull. Things only got interesting when he started swearing and cursing about his divorces. Muttering something about lawsuits, Jason was quick to snatch the mic from his hand, and that was the end of that.
A series of slow claps echoed around the room. Most everyone sat still, not quite knowing what to do and still immobile from gluttony. Superman was the exception. I’d just finished saying to Teddy that I didn’t think I could ever move again when the DJ turned up the volume and invited people to come and dance. The floor filled slowly, and Finn stood, turned to me, and held out his hand. “Scarlett, would you dance with me?”
“God, yes! Umm, I mean, yes, I’d love to, Finn. Can we wait for maybe one song? I’m struggling to move and really regretting that last Jell-O shot.”
“Absolutely—”
