Page 3 of Crossing the Line
The Party Must Go On
Paisley Grove
“Here you are,” the model-like woman croons in a high-pitched, sultry voice that sounds practiced.
She’s definitely a sight for sore eyes—I’ll admit that. I’ll also admit that her presence makes me feel inadequate. I grace her with a welcoming smile. She doesn’t smile back though. Her eyes merely pass over me as though I’m of no concern to her. She’s not friendly I see. It’s sort of disappointing that Hercules would choose such an ice queen. Maybe I don’t know him as well as I thought I did. The version of Hercules that I had desired for far longer than I should've is way too discerning to be with a stuck-up person like Lauren.
“Then youarePaisley Grove, Max Grove’s sister?” Mason asks again.
When I look at Mason, it’s as if I’m seeing right through him. I’m very not present for this moment. I feel as if I’m being rude. Or maybe it’s he who is being rude. I can’t make that determination at the moment. I’m too out of sorts.
“Yes, I am,” I say.
Mason tosses a stunned look at Lake and then at Hercules. I’m sure he knows all about our family feud since he’s Hercules’s best friend. It seems like he’s not happy to meet me or see me at his party. My insides cringe. I haven’t felt this uncomfortable since stepping onto the grounds of Lord country back in high school.
“You have a great turnout for a Thursday night,” Hercules’s date says to Lake, who passes a glance around the room as she agrees.
I turn to locate the hallway that leads to the elevators. I should leave soon.
“Oh, by the way, Lauren,” Lake says, gripping my forearm as if she can sense that I want to escape her party. “This is myfriendPaisley.” Lake raises her eyebrows at Mason as if she’s warning him to be nice to me.
Lauren presses her overly red lips together and grunts dismissively as she clings tighter to Hercules. That is her not-so-subtle way of letting me know that she’s not going to shake hands.
Hercules folds his arms over his broad chest, effortlessly freeing himself from Lauren’s straitjacket-like hold. “So, how did the two of you become friends?” he says as his amused gaze bounces between Lake and me.
Lake recounts the moment that we became fast besties. She was my last interview of the day. I was hiring an artist to design all the signage and branding for our company’s annual Endow the World with Technology benefit. All morning, Max, my older brother and CEO of GIT—Grove Industrial Technologies—a title he shares with my uncle, Leo Grove, had been riding me for one reason or another. He hates that I’m working in PR and not product development. That’s why he consistently makes my job hard, always sending me emails about what I’ve done wrong, what I missed, and what—as the public relations director—I should know. It was because of his badgering that I could hardly focus during Lake’s interview.
Then she abruptly stood and said, “I’ve got a feeling you need to get the hell out of this office. Am I right?”
I looked at her, shocked that she had done something that was so unusual. I thought she was bold. My default reply would’ve been to say that I was fine. But I wasn’t fine. The walls of my office felt as though they had been caving in on me all morning. So, instead of smiling politely and then getting on with the interview, I nodded.
“Okay, then,” she said, pointing her head toward the way out. “Let’s make a break for it.”
We walked and talked and shopped. Lake led me into stores that I never knew existed. I bought trinkets. We perused galleries for artwork, where she showed me some of her pieces. I even bought two oil paintings of hers, abstracts that I found emotionally moving. One is hanging in my office. Max was enthralled by the other painting, so I gave it to him. The time we spent together went by so fast. When we parted, I told her she had the job, and we exchanged phone numbers. Since then, every day that we’re not working together, we’re on the phone talking to each other.
“Our conversations are endless, don’t you think?” she asks me.
My smile is large and happy. “I think so.”
The way Hercules grins at me makes me blush. It’s as if Lake and my strong connection moves him.
“I even know her favorite color,” Lake says.
I chuckle because Lake’s on a roll, being her charming self. “And I know yours.”
She says “Black” at the same time that I say “Yellow.”
Hercules’s appraising eyes dip down and rise back up my body. “I would’ve guessed red,” he whispers.
I quickly look down at my cousin Treasure’s formfitting and fairly sexy red cocktail dress that I’m wearing.Should I admit that it doesn’t belong to me?
Hercules’s lips part as if he’s about to say something else, but a bossy voice comes over the loudspeaker, demanding that the happy couple come to the front immediately,right now.
“That’s my cousin, Amy,” Lake says in my ear and rolls her eyes. “I’ve been forced to make her my maid of honor.”
Lake raises her eyebrows at Mason, and they walk off together, heading toward the big windows where a microphone stand is set up. As they split the crowd, people clap.
I’m hiding my panic, realizing Lake and Mason have left me alone with Hercules and Lauren. I close my eyes for a few seconds, bracing myself, before turning to face them. And right on cue, Lauren wraps herself around Hercules’s arm yet again, showing me that he belongs to her.
