building.
The stolid, expressionless driver didn’t even blink when Gloria tumbled into the back seat, giggling and kicking up her heels to offer a paparazzi-worthy panty-flash.
“Gloria,” Sarah hissed. “Don’t forget this is a work thing for me.”
“What?” Gloria giggled and fluttered her lashes at the rearview mirror. “I just want to see if I can get a rise out of him.” She giggled again. “You know, a rise?”
Sarah had a sudden vision of herself standing in a line at the unemployment office. “Did you have a drink while you were getting ready or something?”
“Two.” Gloria stuck out her tongue. “Stop being an old schti… schti…” She giggled. “Schtick-in-the-mud.”
Sarah slumped in the seat. She hated being a stick-in-the-mud. She really did. But Gloria was like a peppy little puppy, bright-eyed and stumbling into trouble at every turn. Bringing her to a work function was a disaster in the making.
But it wasn’t like Sarah could snap a leash on her. She’d just have to do damage control as the occasion arose. And she had a feeling there were going to be a lot of occasions arising.
The driver evidently wasn’t one of them, though. His expression was unchanging as he pulled up outside the club, came around to the passenger side, and opened the door. He stayed stoic even when Gloria stumbled into him accidentally-on-purpose.
Was there any way to rescue this situation? Short of shanking Gloria with her nail file and shoving her body into the shrubbery, Sarah couldn’t think of a solution. And the place was so neatly landscaped, there really wasn’t anywhere to hide a body.
“Okay, Gloria, I just have one rule for tonight,” she said as the Town Car drove away.
Gloria smiled at her, swaying on her feet. “Jus’ one?”
“Well, there were two, but the first one was ‘no drinking before dinner.’”
“Too late!” Gloria did a little soft-shoe in the loose gravel of the parking lot, ending with a jazz-hands flourish.
“Yeah, I know,” Sarah said. “So there’s just one rule left, and you’d better follow it or I won’t let you go to dinner with my friends anymore.”
“Okay.” Gloria seemed to sober instantly and stood at attention.
Sarah stifled a smile and pointed a stern finger at her roommate, whose curls were still bouncing from her impromptu tap performance.
“Eric is off-limits, okay? He is my boss, and my paycheck depends on him. You mess around with him, I’m liable to lose my job and then you’ll lose the rent money.” She quirked a little smile to soften the negativity. “Capiche?”
Gloria made a cross over her heart. “Capiche.”
Stepping inside the club, they paused to absorb the softly lit, walnut-paneled splendor of the Petroleum Club. Even Gloria was hushed by the dignified brass sconces, the elaborate paneled woodwork, and the elegantly carved doorway. Sarah breathed in the scent of the world she’d worked so hard to earn, a sweet-smelling combination of candlelight, furniture polish, and money.
Eric was seated at a long table near the back of the restaurant along with a half-dozen other men, enveloped in the faint musical sounds of clinking china, clanking silverware, and low conversation. Levering himself out of the chair, he pulled out the one beside him while two of his friends stumbled over themselves to help Gloria.
“You look terrific,” he said as he pushed Sarah’s chair in. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I’m so glad we found a Vassar girl like you to tell us how to class things up.”
She smiled, remembering all the hot summer afternoons she’d spent on the back step of her mother’s trailer, daydreaming while she watched her little sister frolic in her plastic Walmart wading pool. She remembered feeling her polyester T-shirt sticking to her back and wishing it was silk, wishing she were rich, wishing she was anywhere but in Two Shot.
That was the one thing she’d succeeded at in Two Shot: leaving. She’d failed miserably at everything else—holding her family together, holding onto Roy’s legacy, making his life count for something. All her success was on the surface.
But she couldn’t think about that now. She needed to concentrate on making sure Gloria behaved herself.
“And you.” Eric turned to Gloria. “You look amazing.”
Gloria giggled and shook her shoulders, making her breasts bobble. She was always bobbling and bubbling, putting on a show. It seemed to be an instinctive response. Apparently, she believed in the survival of the sexiest.
She’d seated herself between two of Eric’s golf buddies. One, a youngish guy who almost rivaled Eric for good looks, was being politely