Haze Read online

  I wasn't new to the dating game at all. I dated in high school, and I had two primary boyfriends in college. Well, and a brief depressed party girl phase where I was a little more “open” than I probably should have been. It was really amazing what drunken frat boys could get super drunk sorority girls to do with each other just by asking.

  Thankfully, that had ended almost as quick as it had started, and the damage control had been adequate.

  I still had moments where I thought about him—him being my last ex, Timothy—but they were starting to fade away entirely. The decision to break up had been somewhat unexpected, the product of my desire to pursue this job in NYC.

  I met him between my sophomore and junior years of college, and everything had been great. He was an engineering major—a lucrative field, I must say; I was very jealous of the sheer number of job offers he received upon graduating—but his ties to his family were weirdly strong.

  So, when he got a job offer in a small town near his hometown, he insisted that he take it and that I move there with him. Honestly, my future had looked pretty bleak at that time, so I initially said a resoundingly weak yes. But then uncertainty burrowed deeply in my mind like the pest that it was. I felt painfully restrained and restricted by the idea of perpetual small-town life. And something told me Timothy wasn't going to budge for anything.

  When I found out about the job offer at MCI Music Group, I hid it initially. I didn't tell Timothy, even when I flew out for the interview. I knew it would crush him, but suddenly it had become him versus me, even though we were in a relationship together. So I lied—I hated lying, but in that moment, what other option did I have?—and said I was visiting my grandmother to cause fewer problems up front.

  He freaked out when I told him I was going to take the job; thankfully he didn't break anything. Timothy totally had the option of moving with me since he’d gotten numerous job offers in both NYC and New Jersey, but he would make zero compromises in the close to home category. And when he gave me an ultimatum—come with me, or we're over—I knew what I had to do for myself and my future.

  As much as he wanted to drag me through the mud, I knew I wasn't actually being selfish. My parents applauded my decision, their happiness a combination of their approval of my ambition as well as their mild dislike for Timothy.

  Even though I was never comfortable doing anything to hurt him, my mind was made up. He knew where he wanted to be, and I couldn't change that. Timothy went his way, and I had gone mine almost two months ago. To make matters even worse, Timothy and I shared a number of mutual friends—and they had taken his side.

  So yeah, I was definitely interested in starting over again in a new place. Part of me didn't like that I was dismissing Timothy so easily, but then again, our negotiations had come to an abrupt stop—his choice, or we were over. It was downright selfish on his end, and it hurt. I let it go, deciding there was no need to get hung up on the total inflexibility of someone else, especially when it was entirely at the expense of my well being.

  I also didn't want to let go of those friends, but for now, I'd just have to leave it alone. Timothy was probably feeding them a steady diet of lies and deceit, and I was too far away to do anything serious about it.

  The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Sam remained stressed out about the offer, so I tried to comfort him by drawing attention to the fact that Jack had actually claimed to be interested in MCI. He legitimately had said he was interested—it wasn't just wishful thinking or a dumb platitude. Those promising words were the only positive weapon I had.

  However, we still didn't hear anything from Jack for the next two days, which left us with the weekend. Sam was bent out of shape, but what the hell could we do anyway? It was Jack's decision, and that was that. Sam would just have to survive a couple more days, I was sure of that.

  Oh, weekend...

  ***

  My Craigslist searches had led me to the lovely neighborhood of Astoria. I found a spare room in a two-bedroom apartment with a guy named Jesse, a finance major at NYU whose long-term goal was investment banking. He was interning with a major banking firm and gone a lot of the time for work-related stuff. As a result, I usually had the apartment to myself, an added perk. Jesse had a girlfriend too, Laura, but she lived in New Jersey and had her own stuff going on during much of the week.

  Jesse was usually absent when I got home, but Friday night, he was there, dressed in a fancy, tailored suit. "Hey, Effie!" he shouted as I walked in. I was shocked to see him, even though he lived here.

  "Jesse! Wow, don't you look nice!" He usually dressed nice for work, but this was a couple steps above that. "Are you going out with Laura tonight? Something fancy? Ballroom gala?"

  A big, mischievous smile broke out across his face. "No, just a dumb investor meeting at the New York Palace." He paused for a second. "Wanna come?"

  "You want me to come to the New York Palace with you?" I asked. I was definitely confused.

  "The party is at the Madison Room. Free drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Laura can't make it, and I get one guest. I wouldn't want this great opportunity to go to waste." He looked a little desperate, but then again, this was a huge offer.

  "Jesse, that's kind of crazy. You want me to hang out with a bunch of bankers at one of the fanciest hotels in the world?" It was a stupid, surreal question to have to ask.

  "Yes, actually," he said matter-of-factly. "That's exactly it. You'll have fun. Some of these guys are kind of amusing, even though bankers sound as if they'd be boring. No pressure, though, if you want to skip out."

  I stood there for a moment and thought about my plans for the evening, which included nothing. It would be nice to relax, but who knew if I'd ever be invited to another party at the New York Palace? "I don't know if I have anything nice enough to wear."

  "Okay, I'll tell you what," he said. "Go take a look in your closet and tell me your decision in fifteen minutes. We'll leave in twenty."

  "Twenty?" I said, my voicing oozing exasperation. "That's a little soon!"

  Jesse smiled. "If you want to go, you should really hurry up." He turned and walked his well-dressed self back into his room.

  My internal debate was intense, but I quickly decided that I should take advantage of his offer. I hadn't really been out much in the city yet—I also knew a night out at the Madison Room would likely spoil me—but a chance like this didn't come around every day.

  I had one really nice dress that I had worn to a friend's wedding, a black and blue strapless that I had wanted to wear again but had never found the opportunity. I threw it on a fast as I could, struggling with the zipper in the back. I was relieved to learn that it still fit just as well as it had the day I bought it. Oh, and the coordinating heels I had worn with it happened to be at the front of my closet as well. Convenience!

  Somehow I managed to do my eye makeup and apply lip liner and a gentle lipstick in the very few minutes I had. It certainly wasn't perfect, but I looked pretty good. And I had forgotten how good this dress made my cleavage look. Unfortunately—or fortunately, perhaps—guys would probably notice that before they noticed my haphazard, spur-of-the-moment makeup job.

  "It's a shame you're not really my date," Jesse said with feigned humility. He burst out laughing after seeing my phony disgusted look. Although I had only lived with him for about a month, he felt like a close friend already.

  "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Maybe I'll hook up with your boss in your bed after the event," I said sarcastically. "Us single gals can get crazy."

  "Eh, how about you don't do that. Monday would be pretty awkward. Well, tomorrow morning, too. And tonight."

  I continued tidying up my hair. "I'm not really into assholes though. So you probably don't have anything to worry about."

  Jesse smiled again and then looked at his cell phone. "All right, can we please be on our way, huh? We can keep talking about your very particular tastes on the trip."

  I grabbed his half-finished glass of wine from the counte
r and downed it all at once. "To loosen my nerves," I said meekly. He shrugged as he opened the door and motioned me into the hall and down the stairs.

  The city air was warm and inviting. My dress was actually pretty appropriate for the summer weather. There was a cab waiting for us downstairs; a nice surprise, although it would have been amusing to ride the subway dressed as nicely as we were.

  After a short trip, we were at 455 Madison Avenue, in front of the historic New York Palace, a hotel I never could have afforded in my wildest dreams. Even this morning, if you had told me I'd be showing up at this place tonight, I would have told you that you were crazy. Yet here I was with my roommate, whom I had randomly found on Craigslist. Quite the lovely coincidence.

  Jesse paid the cab driver and then led me inside, checking in with a very unhappy looking man holding a list before we got into the restaurant. The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior, and I felt wildly out of place no matter how hard I tried to conform. Still, I could feign some confidence, and here would be the place to do it.

  We walked into the restaurant together, immediately greeted by a waiter with champagne. I snatched up a glass and smiled as I took a sip. Oh yeah, this was the good stuff. The bubbles tickled my throat on their way down. Jesse politely declined, probably assuming that he could get better drinks somewhere else. His loss, I guess—or maybe mine.

  They had booked the whole restaurant for their party. Some folks were at tables while others stood in social clumps. No reservations available tonight, folks.

  There were tons of rich, old men in the room of all shapes and sizes, but it wasn't as bad as I expected. Light piano jazz hummed behind the chorus of voices, the whole ordeal pretty much exactly what I would have expected given the situation. I thought we were some of the youngest people in the room until I noticed the group that Jesse was leading us to. They appeared to be in their mid to late twenties, presumably Jesse's fellow interns.

  He introduced me to everyone in sight—explaining that I wasn't his girlfriend Laura grew tiresome fast; the alcohol and free food definitely helped me remain patient—and then he led me to another area, claiming that he needed to say hi to his boss. On the journey, I scored a puff pastry and some smoked salmon and I scarfed them both down before we stopped walking. I couldn't believe how delicious everything was. I made a mental note of the guy with the salmon so I could try to find him when we came back.

  By that point, the champagne was kicking in and I was feeling pretty good. "Effie, I want you to meet Tom Benmore. Tom, this is my roommate, Effie."

  Tom reached his hand out to me and I awkwardly shook it, trying to do my best to appear professional. He was handsome, probably in his early fifties. Tall, but not gargantuan. "So you're the one that moved in with Jesse, huh? How can you deal with such a slob?"

  Jesse immediately piped in, interrupting my possibly awkward response. "My apartment is a lot cleaner than my office, Tom! Jesus, I didn't know you thought so little of me."

  They both broke into a hearty laughter, and I just smiled to complement their jovial moment. "So what do you do, Effie?" Tom asked.

  "Uh, I'm working in accounts at MCI Music Group."

  "MCI? Really?" he asked. "That's a big deal for a gal like you, I'm sure. Living here for such a short time, and you're already at MCI. Great, really great." His enthusiasm seemed genuine, even though I assumed he made more in a second than I did in a week.

  "I guess so," I said. "I like it there, at least."

  "Sure, that's a lot more than Jesse here can say about our office."

  Jesse cocked an eyebrow. "Someday I'm taking over the company, Tom. You watch your back!" I was glad to see that the two of them got along so well. It was fun to listen to their verbal jabs.

  "Listen, MCI, you said, right?" Tom had a twinkle in his eyes; something very good or very bad was coming soon, I could tell.

  "Yeah." I gulped down more champagne.

  "I've got a friend you should meet. One sec." Tom turned around and disappeared into the crowd that so eagerly swallowed him.

  "I'm going to try to get a drink from the bar, okay?" Jesse patted me on the shoulder and then walked toward the bar. It was close, so I could still see him as he did his best to catch the attention of one of the bartenders.

  Standing there alone, my mind started to wander. The combination of the booze and the commotion brought me back to the same headspace as the subway. Parties were like huge living things themselves, far greater than the sum of the smaller living things that made them up. It was so easy for me to get distracted in huge, loud moments like these.

  No matter how anonymous people felt in that crowd, almost everyone longed to be someone at a party, to be the star running the show. Here, it was tough to say who was really in charge since everyone was so well off. It was a surreal realization, but one I was okay with.

  And then, like a dream, he was coming toward me. I was tumbling toward the earth, my reverie swept away like a sandcastle during high tide. Jack Teller was walking with Tom, laughing and chatting—and he looked hot as hell, almost too hot. I suddenly felt very sick and turned away as quick as I could, as if that gesture would somehow protect me, shield me from the upcoming interaction. It failed. Miserably. There was an enthusiastic tap on my shoulder.

  "Effie! This is Jack Teller, a dear friend of mine. Real famous guy. You owe me for this one!"

  "Well, hello, madam," Jack said. "A real pleasure to meet you. Tom says you work for MCI." He took my hand and kissed it. His gesture was almost lethal, like a venomous snakebite. I felt weak under the silent scrutiny of his eyes.

  I was stuck. Had he already forgotten me entirely, only a couple days since our first meeting? It hurt, but then I realized we had only been around each other for a short while.

  And why did this matter to me anyway? Jack was just some big shot and I was a nobody. There was no reason for him to give a damn. I was nobody special, so he forgot me. Typical famous guy.

  Or maybe he was playing a game. I decided to play along for kicks—it was certainly more fun than being miserable—even if I was the only one playing.

  "Hi, Jack! So nice to meet you!" My non-champagne-holding hand started trembling so wildly that I had to hide it behind my back. Had I ever spoken to a man before? I thought I knew the answer was yes, but maybe somehow, I was wrong. The butterflies in my stomach definitely sent mixed signals.

  "I noticed you from the other corner of the room and knew immediately that I had to find out who the lucky guy was who got to bring you here! Is she your date, Tom? Brought me over to make me jealous?" His posture was impeccable. He gleamed with confidence and it stung.

  Tom laughed, his weight shifting from one foot to the other as the joyful sounds escaped him. "Ha, I wish! One of my interns brought her, but I think she's single, Jack!" Tom nudged Jack playfully. My response: Intense blushing. "Wait, do you two already know each other or something? Effie, are you hiding something?"

  I couldn't tell if that was real curiosity or pure sarcasm. And why did he suspect only me of hiding something? Rich guys kept no secrets?

  This trainwreck kept getting worse and worse. I was so confused already, but I needed to take control as much as I could before there was any more damage. "I'm just... star struck," I mumbled quietly. "He's so great." I sounded as convincing as an excited robot.

  "Aww, don't be shy," Jack said. "It would be an honor if you'd come get a drink with me." He glanced at my almost empty glass and smiled. "Another drink, I mean."

  "What?" I blurted out. I turned to look at Tom and noticed that Jesse was back and the two of them were already conversing about something intense on their own. I hadn't even noticed Jesse returning, and it had been what, seconds?

  He was just talking to me now. The party had suddenly become very small, so small that it felt suffocating. Had more time just passed than I realized? I felt as if I were trapped in a glass jar, the bug that some kid had caught in the backyard. And like those poor insects, I wanted to
be set free.

  Jack leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. "You're a good actor, you know? C'mon." He wrapped his arm around my back and I went with him, unable to do anything but that. It wasn't that my body froze—it moved on its own. I managed to make awkward eye contact with Jesse as Jack Teller almost literally swept me away to some other part of the room.

  A relentless stream of hellos came from every person we passed, all of them apparently good friends of Jack—or maybe just people who wanted to be his friend. While it didn't surprise me at all, it did make me feel very self-conscious. This guy usually courted Hollywood starlets from what I knew, the total opposite of me. My heart pounded uncontrollably in my chest. All I could do was desperately hope that Jack couldn't sense my tension—and I wasn't optimistic.

  He took me around a corner to two open stools and motioned for me to sit down. I did. "What would you like?" he asked. His voice was gentle, yet loud enough to be audible over the chatter of the room.

  "I don't know, Jack," I said.

  "Okay, how about something appropriate then?" He flagged down the bartender. "Two dry Manhattans, please."

  I let out an awkward chuckle. It was a silly, stupid joke. Jack smiled at my response, and it made my heart flutter. At least I could hide that. I sat there silently for a moment, my hands placed neatly in my lap.

  "It's so nice to see you again, Effie," Jack said. "I wouldn't have expected this at all."

  "Why, because I'm not as rich as you are?" I asked, my tone acidic. "Why the facade in front of Tom?"

  He looked off into the room, his expression distant and a little cold. "For fun, I guess. You also have quite the effect on me. I don't know what I'm doing sometimes." No eye contact, unless the bar itself had eyes.

  "That was nearly humiliating!" I complained.

  "Shush. It went fine. That was a great save on your part. Excellent improvisation." He smiled again, and it almost hurt to look at him. The way the light danced against his skin made him even more handsome, his face something of true beauty. A knot formed in my stomach as I tried to digest what was going on. "I'm glad we got to be on stage together."