“It was a really long time ago. I’m happy and well-fed now.” I pat my stomach, trying to distract him. My lame attempt at a joke doesn’t work. He doesn’t even smile.Dammit.
“How many of these have you been to?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
I nudge his arm when he doesn’t answer me and thankfully, that snaps him out of whatever was going through his brain. “Uh, hundreds. I had to do them even as a child.”
“Really? I can see why they’re boring to you now, then.”
“Yeah. Some aren’t so bad. They are for a good cause.”
We’re pulling up to a building now, an enormously huge glass convention center. There are the usual swarms of people outside, flashes brightening the dark areas of the carpet, and my heart sinks to my stomach.
If my uncle ever saw these pictures, he’d know where I am.
He’d be able to find me, have me arrested for what I did…
***
Benjamin leads me through the swarms of press and photographers. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop to speak with anyone.
A gentleman hands us little packets of paper as we head into the room. I read it, noticing it’s the names of all the people on the board and committee.
“You sponsored this night?” I gasp.
“Yes,” he says absently, scanning the room for our seats. They’re among the members of the board. I’m going to have a panic attack!
I’m a bartender! I’m not accomplished!
“What’s wrong?” Benjamin whispers, pulling out my chair. We’re the first to sit.
“I think I’m a little out of place here.”
“Why?” he asks.
Does he really not get it?
“I’m a bartender, Benjamin.”
“You are not a bartender, Darcy. That’s just your job,” he counters sternly, sitting down next to me. He puts his hand on the back of my chair and leans close. “You’re extremely bright. Don’t think less of yourself just because they’ve got more years on you.”
“And more education? More money? More employees?” I glance around at the successful people around me.
“I would never bring you here if I didn’t think you could handle it, Darcy. These people are very nice.”
“You’ve brought other women to these,” I state.
“I have brought women to functions, yes.”
“I thought you told me you don’t date smart women. Could they handle this?”
“How did you know I’ve brought people before?” he asks suspiciously.
“I Googled you,” I reply with no shame.
“Ah, good ol’ Google. Look, Darcy, I have brought women to events. I never cared whether I danced with them or if they even had a good time. I think I’ve proven that you are not one of those women.”
“Right, we’re friends,” I say, not knowing whether I’m telling him or myself that.
“Yes, we are.” He beckons a woman carrying a tray over to us, then takes two glasses of champagne, handing one to me. “Now listen to me, I have more money myself than everyone in this room doescombined,Darcy. I’m successful, and I think you are smart. I think you’re interesting and they will too. Believe me.”
