Evasive Truth
Persephone opted to take an Uber to Micaela's ceremony.
Not that she had much choice, a small car accident happened near her home as she was getting ready and unfortunately once she was set to go, the two parties were still arguing over who was at fault. A police officer finally arrived at the scene, but as luck would have it, he decided to block her driveway with the squad car, thus, a car ride with a perfect stranger it was.
Thankfully the venue was only a three-minute drive from her house so she didn't have to spend much money on the trip. She thanked the Uber driver and promptly pulled her smartphone from the copper-colored clutch she accessorized to rate and tip the driver accordingly.
Instead of buying a new dress, she opted for a dress she already had hanging in the closet. Waste not, want not, she thought. It was a rust-colored sleeveless dress that hugged all of her ample curves tightly, from her 34D chest, running seductively down the sleek slope of her 25-inch waist and across her well-cushioned, perfectly rounded backside.
To counter the expected Seattle chill, Persephone opted for a black wrap which was currently draped across her arm.
She made her way up the cement staircase leading to the venue, taking each step carefully, planting the copper-high heel of her open-toe shoes carefully before taking the next step.
She had let waves roam free on her head tonight.
As soon as she reached the top, she noticed the venue was a museum of sorts. The building had glass walls that allowed her to see many well-dressed attendees were already inside standing and mingling around statues and marble busts, feasting on hors d'oeuvres and drinking wine. A few small groups were huddled outside the museum's wide cement balcony. Servers walked around with trays of tiny food and napkins offering provisions to those that felt peckish.
Persephone stood still for a moment taking a deep breath, reminding herself not to be as socially awkward tonight as she had been at the Japanese garden. She grabbed her clutch with both hands taking a few more centering breaths with her eyes closed. On the third breath, her senses were invaded by a very familiar scent. She sensed the owner of the scent had invaded her personal space.
"Persephone," she heard the space invader speak.
She opened her eyes to see Micaela's godson standing in front of her - the handsome one with the deep-blue eyes she met at the coffee shop.
She nodded, "Chris, right?" She gave him a quick glance from head to toe.
He wore black pants with a black vest over a long-sleeve white dress shirt. Apparently, opting to forego a tie was an option, still, Persephone mused as she stared at the tan skin exposed from his neck to the very top of his chest where he neglected to fasten the top buttons - this look worked for him.
He nodded. "Aunt Micaela didn't say you were coming." He said approvingly through a smile.
She shrugged taking a few steps further from his invasion, and further from the museum's entrance. "I just got the invite yesterday," she informed him.
He walked towards her once more looking around briefly. "Are you here with anyone?"
Not realizing, she had taken a few more steps further, "No," she responded casually, turning her body towards the railing that overlooked the well-populated Friday night crowd on the street below. "I don't need a plus one." She answered confidently.
He smiled. "No?"
She turned her head towards him, shaking it slowly. "No." She confirmed.
"Don't let Aunt Micaela hear that," he warned. "Romance is her stock and trade, you know?"
She laughed. "Well, I'm not related to her, and I don't owe her anything, so I think I'll be fine." She turned her body sideways, mirroring his. "Who are you here with?" She returned the question.
He buried his hands in the pockets of his pants. "You?" He asked with a smile.
She frowned.
"I'm not here with anyone either," he offered. "Hopefully we can keep each other company tonight?" He asked.
A server holding a tray of red wine walked to them offering them a glass. Chris quickly grabbed two, holding one towards her.
She waved it away. "No, thank you."
He placed one glass back on the tray, bringing the one he held onto closer to his lips.
"Cheers," he said before taking a sip.
"Is Micaela here yet?" She asked, looking from the groups standing outside, and through the glass for any sign of her.
Pulling the glass from the thickness of his lips, he shook his head. "She likes to make an entrance," he said through that ever-present smile. "So she tells everyone the event starts right on time." He held the drink in front of his face, swirling the wine. "She's the guest of honor so it's not like the event can start without her." He brought the glass back to his lips. "She does the same thing every year at birthday and anniversary parties." He looked at her. "So, where do you work?" He asked before taking a sip.
Persephone focused on the liquid, staring with interest as the volume diminished. "Currently, nowhere." She informed him. Realizing this would open the door for more questions, she continued. "Trying my hand at investments," she told him. "It worked out in California, hoping it works out here." Her mind drifted to all the money she invested in lottery tickets before one finally paid off in a big way.
Trust fund baby?" He asked cutting through her thoughts.
She chuckled. "Hardly," she responded, thinking of her job trajectory. "Mainly... office jobs," she said, keeping it evasively true. "Last job was admin work with a major health system in L.A." She filled in.
His eyes made contact with hers. "Did you like it?"
Persephone's mind drifted to experiences with patients in the several positions she held with a medical group. "It was rewarding," she said tenderly.
"It would have to be," he stated, obviously missing the sentiment. "California is just as expensive as Seattle." He downed the last of his drink.
"Mmm," was all she said choosing to let him believe that the job paid enough to live while thinking of the second job she had to start to supplement her income. Although she was ashamed of her second job, she was grateful it wound up successful enough that she could quit the office job and be her own boss.
She turned her body around resting her weight against the protective railing. "What do you do?"
"Real estate," he answered. "Micaela's son, Daniel and I opened our own agency ten years ago and thankfully, it's thriving," he leaned against the railing just as she had. "We've recently expanded to a second location and hired ten more agents to help us with listings."
"Son of a bitch! I knew that was you!" Their attention turned toward the angry sound that came from a lean brunette to the right of them. She was dressed in a yellow crop top and loose blue jeans shooting visual daggers at Chris with eyes full of rage. She removed the lid from the drink she was holding, which looked to be a large iced coffee and splashed it on Chris's face.
Since she was in the line of fire, Persephone gasped when she got a slighter splash across her cheeks and chin. The chill of the liquid quickly seeped through her dress while something cold, slick and hard slid in through the top of her dress remaining in the valley between her breasts. The rest of the liquid that came into contact with her made it down to her hips, and her legs, and finally dripped into her heels. Not yet grasping what happened, she squirmed, shaking the dress until what turned out to be an ice cube exited from under her dress and landed next to her soiled heels.
The woman turned to Persephone pointing a finger in her face. "Trust me, you do not want to sleep with him."
"Steph," Chris tried pulling her away from Persephone.
She pulled her arm away brusquely. Her attention went back to Persephone. "You know how I can tell you haven't slept with him?"
Persephone stared at her in shock.
The woman got in her face. "Because he's still with you!" She spewed bitterly looking her up and down.
It was then that Persephone noticed a group of casually dressed women with their phones aimed at them giggling and shouting encouraging words to this psycho. All other event attendees now gave them their attention as well.
One of the casually dressed women grabbed the brunette by the arm. "You showed him, honey," she said in a high-pitched tone before turning to Chris. "Stay away from her!" She yelled.
Chris raised his hands, displaying coffee stains all over his white shirt. "Guaranteed!" He responded.
The gaggle of women yelled a few expletives at Chris before leaving.
Chris turned to Persephone. "I'm sorry-" he began, but didn't quite finish before they were interrupted again.
"Christopher Ericson! How dare you!"
It would seem Micaela Dawson was not happy at being upstaged during her grand entrance.