Haze - By Andrea Wolfe Page 0,9

never had a Manhattan? This is one of the few places that does 'em the way I like 'em. It's dry vermouth instead of sweet. I don't like sweet drinks."

Something about a drink being dry seemed to fit Jack's personality very well—at least better than sweet. I also didn't know anything about fancy drinks, so I did my best to piece together the information. I listened as if he were giving a sermon, accepting his wisdom like gospel. "You know, I don't really like these events," he said quietly at the end, almost as if I weren’t supposed to hear it.

"Why are you here then?"

"Just maintaining appearances. Some of these guys help me manage my money, so they always extend an invitation, and I feel bad saying no."

I drank quietly and listened to his words, not really sure of what to say. "I didn't really know anything about you," I admitted sheepishly. "Sam made a huge deal out of you, but I didn't—"

"I could tell," he said.

"What?" I suddenly felt bad about what I had just said. Somebody this famous probably was appalled that I didn't know anything about him.

"You threw me off. I'm usually on top of things, but you were like a curve ball. You're not like any girl I've ever met before."

I took a big gulp of my drink, my stomach doing cartwheels again. What was going on here? I had assumed he was such a womanizer, and yet here he was, assaulting me with an authenticity that made me weak in the knees. I wasn't even sure what he meant, but I wasn't about to ask.

A lot of things were running through my mind at once, like a montage in a movie. I thought about Jesse, probably wondering what was going on between the famous guy and me. I thought about work, thought about how much the deal meant to Sam. I thought about myself and the stress that had led me here to New York City. And finally, the bizarre series of events that dumped me next to this rich, gorgeous man I knew so little about.

"You look stunning tonight, Effie," he whispered, his words tickling my ear as his breath touched that delicate skin.

I blushed again, breaking eye contact and not knowing what to say. "Thanks. Aren't you already dating some famous actress or something?" Jack's features tensed up. It actually looked as if I had offended him. "Effie, you're missing the point here. Do you really think I'd be here if that was all I cared about?”

"I don't know," I said defensively. "I don't know anything about that. I barely know anything about you!" I sipped and waited.

"For your information, I am single. I have been since the last Hollywood starlet I dated."

"Stacy Levons?" I asked abruptly.

He started laughing. "You don't know me, but of course you know Stacy."

"I like her," I admitted. "A lot." It was an understatement, but I didn't want to sound crazy.

"She's a great actor, but not great to be in a relationship with. Stacy's awesome, but she's always super busy with projects." He nursed his drink and then continued. "You probably don't believe me, but when you have access to Hollywood people, it's no longer the most exciting thing in the world. They're just like you are, flaws and everything. You stay together for the good press even when you hate the other's guts—well, for as long as you possibly can stand it. Breakups with Hollywood people are never simple."

I did my best to look and be understanding, even though these were like problems from Mars to a simple gal like me.

"What if you were around rich people like this all day and night? The supposed best of the best? Would you give a damn anymore?"

A thought experiment for me, Jack, eh?

"I guess not," I said honestly.

"You probably loved the free food when you walked in. The good drinks. The old, sleazy men that make more in a second than you make per year."

I nodded, following along with his game.

"Okay, so you get my point, then? I'm tired of this, Effie." He made a grand swoop with his arm, effectively writing off the whole party. "I love my work, really I do. But this part drives me nuts. Talented people are talented people, one way or another. Some of these guys are just rich and think that because they're rich, they can call the shots when it comes to art. It's bullshit."

I was quickly understanding his position. He