Page 11 of Escape Girl

Bobby glanced over his shoulder and winced. “Your father’s giving me quite a look.”

I cocked my head down the table. My father wasn’t glaring, but there was an evaluative quality in the way he assessed Bobby. How long had he been watching us?

I smiled gently and lifted my glass to him. My father’s gaze softened, and he returned the half toast. “He’s probably just wondering what we’re talking about. He’s not used to me being so chatty at these things. I usually sit next to him and stifle yawns and sneak glances at my watch.”

Bobby didn’t look convinced. “Nah. He’s a dad, and he’s noticed the way I’m looking at you.”

Well,thud, Thud, THUDindeed. “How, exactly, are you looking at me?”

His eyes crinkled, his mouth curved, and he lowered his head toward mine. For a thrilling second, it didn’t seem like looking—or answering my question—was what was going to happen next.

But then, of course, Selma and the whole rest of the table stood, and the moment was broken. In the living room, the party of twelve formed and re-formed conversation groups as we all helped ourselves to miniature portions of key lime pie, crème brûlée, and tiramisu. Predictably, my father got an urgent phone call and began to pace the hallway, barking orders to one of the hard-working teams at his venture capital firm.

As always, I blended into the background to watch and listen.

Bobby March.March. I’d heard of his family, I realized, now that his physical presence wasn’t distracting every one of my thoughts and nerve endings. His parents had been legendary in Silicon Valley history. One of them was instrumental in the early days of Apple and one of them at Microsoft. His older brother Jamie was kind of famous right now for being a whistleblower on the dangers of social media and other online threats.

Had I ever heard anything specifically about Bobby? I didn’t think so. Based on his appearance and everyone’s reaction tonight, he was obviously quite popular and social, but I hadn’t heard anything about him professionally. He hadn’t said anything about work over dinner either. Given his parents’ history, he probably had quite a trust fund. Maybe he didn’t work.

Of course, as I watched him captivate the room, it occurred to me that tonight was probably a great deal of work for him indeed. Or at least it would have been exhausting to me; maybe this brilliant tap dance came naturally to him.

Was he even aware of it? How everyone in the room orbited him like he was a magnet full of sunshine? Selma beamed after everything he said, flushed with the success of her party. Nora enjoyed bobbing one-liners at him. She’d stand off to the side until she thought of something clever and then she’d fling it at him like a witty Ping-Pong ball. Bobby would take a moment to show how much he enjoyed her intellect and then wing something even wittier right back at her. The volley made her feel smart and seen. To the men, he effortlessly steered them between Monday Night Football and the recent activity of the stock market, making sure everyone got to say something of value.

My father popped his head into the room and waved me over. He put a hand over his phone’s mouthpiece. “Call the car, will you, Em? I’ve got to hop on a video conference.”

I nodded and texted my father’s driver to come round front. “Two minutes,” I told him.

“Say our goodbyes?” he asked. I rolled my eyes and nodded.

Selma hugged me. Dimitri waved at my father’s back. To the rest of the group, I gave a general farewell. Bobby met my eyes for a brief moment, but he was trapped against a bookcase by three of the other guests who were arguing animatedly about the latest real estate bubble.

I followed my father down the hall to the front door. I could taste the disappointment in my mouth, a tangible flavor like the bitter Campari in the negronis. How silly of me to think that this evening was different than any other.

“Unacceptable!” my father bellowed into his phone and stepped out on the front porch. It was a very cool night, not that he noticed. He just paced back and forth, barking orders. The car wasn’t there yet, so I stepped back inside the front door to wait in the warmth.

Inside the living room, a woman’s laughter. “Bobby! You’re terrible.” I wondered how long he’d keep everyone in his easy thrall and if they ever got tired of taking turns. The group was mostly behaved adults, but even in my brief surveillance I could see that they’d prefer not to share him. They were like children around a trampoline. They bounced off of him feeling exhilarated and special. No wonder they couldn’t stay away.

Did the joy go on forever, or did people eventually get hurt?

A laugh burst from my lips.

“What’s so funny?” Of course he appeared right then as I chortled to myself. He looked unsure for the first time that night. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Notatyou,” I said. “But I’ve just found a way to perfectly describe you, and it amused me.”

He furrowed his brow and his lips twitched as if he was prepared for a joke. But was there also a flash of vulnerability?

“You’re an ‘attractive nuisance,’” I informed him.

His mouth dropped open. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but that’s new.”

“In legal terms, an ‘attractive nuisance’ is something like a swimming pool for which a landowner may be liable for injuries to children…because it’s something so appealing, they can’t stay away.” I shrugged, giggling helplessly. “It’s not a perfect analogy, but I was watching everyone clamor around you—they can’t stay away—and the phrase just popped into my mind.”

Bobby didn’t seem to know what to make of that. He cocked his head to one side and examined my face.

Outside on the porch, my father rapped on the door without even looking in. “Em! Car’s here!”

I opened my mouth to say goodbye, but Bobby spoke before I could. “Are you free Wednesday? Will you spend the day with me?”

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