"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.