Like a Boss - Annabelle Costa Page 0,30
a foot.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
He gives me a crooked smile. “Don’t mind me. Just trying to clean my wheels a bit. It’s bad manners to leave a trail.”
We take the elevator up to the main level. I glance at Luke, who’s slumped in his wheelchair, looking miserable. “You okay?” I ask him.
“Oh, sure,” he says. “I just hate this shit. Mingling. Ugh.”
“Really?” I’m amused by his reaction. “I thought you loved it.”
He loosens his tie a bit. “I used to.” He doesn’t expand on that sentiment.
As if on cue, the door to the elevator opens at that moment and a middle-aged woman in a ridiculously puffy shiny royal-blue frock rushes over to greet us. She looks so ostentatious with that dress and matching blue make-up and hair bands, for a moment I wonder if she’s part of the art exhibit herself. “Luke!” she cries. “I’m so pleased you could make it, darling!”
She envelopes Luke in a hug, which he accepts with enthusiasm that I can barely tell is faked. “Hello, Patricia.”
Patricia pulls away and crinkles her brow. “How’s your father, Luke?”
“He’s enjoying his retirement,” Luke replies.
“Well, he must be,” Patricia says. “You’ve been a wizard with the company. He must be proud.”
“Yes.” Luke’s voice is tight. “Patricia, this is Eleanor.”
Patricia looks at me in surprise, as if noticing me for the first time. She spends a second looking me up and down before her face lights up. “Eleanor!” she cries with as much enthusiasm as she had for Luke. “Oh my God, darling, I am just so happy to meet you.”
“Uh, thanks,” I stammer, nowhere near as eloquent as Luke.
“She’s lovely,” Patricia says to Luke and I can’t help but feel flattered. I know she thinks Luke and I must be a couple and that’s why she’s so pleased with me. And somehow I’m not bothered by this at all.
Luke makes small talk with Patricia while I stand there looking pretty (sort of). When she finally wanders away, Luke says to me, “I’ve known her my whole life. She’s been in love with my father for like thirty years. I think they might have slept together.”
I stare at him. “How do you know that?”
“Are you kidding?” He grins. “I know everything about everyone. I’m sort of like God.”
“Modest too,” I add. “So do you know everything about me then?”
“Everything,” he replies. And you know what? I’m beginning to believe it.
This entire room reeks of Boston’s old wealth. I’m probably the only person in the room with less than a million dollars to my name. Everyone here is related to an Adams or a Quincy or a Quincy Adams. I feel very low class because none of my great-great-great-grandfathers signed the Declaration of Independence.
Luke makes me feel more comfortable though when he whispers tidbits to me about everyone we meet. I didn’t know the wealthy community had so much gossip. On Luke’s part, he knows how to schmooze. I guess he’s had a whole lifetime of learning how to do it. I mostly stand there awkwardly while he makes small talk, flirts with the old ladies, and says all the right things.
I’m impressed with how much he seems to know about art too. Or at least, he’s good at faking it. Whenever anyone asks me about a painting, I go entirely blank, but Luke spouts off for a minute or two about “the interplay of green and purple” or some bullshit like that. “This is why you take art history in college,” he says to me later, “instead of just twenty computer science classes.” Hmph, I took math too.
The good news is that everyone seems thrilled to meet me, especially the older rich folks. I’ve never seen so many people call me “lovely” in one night. One of them even tells Luke congratulations.
“They think we’re a couple,” Luke says apologetically when we get a moment alone.
“Yeah, I figured that,” I say.
He raises his eyebrows. “Does it bother you?”
“Does it bother you?” I retort.
“Absolutely not,” he replies. “This is the first time I haven’t been slipped the phone numbers of twenty single granddaughters. Everyone in this room has known me since I’m a kid and wants me to settle down. You saved me a lot of trouble. So… I appreciate you going along with the ruse.”
He shifts in his wheelchair as he says this. I wonder if Luke is interested in settling down himself. In college, I pegged him as the kind of guy who had no intention of