The Dream - Whitney Dineen Page 0,38
If it did, then I’d be light years beyond all of these fools, got it?”
I knew Buck had done well for himself, but if his boast is to be believed, then he’s far exceeded what I thought he’d accomplished. He reads my expression and explains, “I own a fair amount of stock in the publishing company that puts out Elegant Travels. We recently went public, and I made a fortune.”
“Well, then, dinner is on you when we eat out, and I don’t want to go to the Shake n’ Burger.”
“You don’t want to go to the Shake n’ Burger?” he asks incredulously. I used to have a real thing for their onion rings. Okay, I still do.
“Fine, I still want to go there but I want to try other places, too.”
“The lady has developed caviar tastes, has she?” my friend teases.
“My beer budget hasn’t allowed for that, but I wouldn’t mind seeing what I’ve been missing.”
With his arm around my shoulder, Buck says, “Buckle up, buttercup; we start tonight!”
We’re greeted by a small contingent of club ladies when we walk through the front door. They’re sitting at a table by the entryway with a clipboard and a seating chart.
“Can we help you?” their spokesperson asks. I’d know that pinched, disapproving face anywhere. It’s Jessica Holt’s mother.
“Alexander Freeport and guest,” Buck intones in such a way royalty might use when speaking to the kitchen staff.
I want to burst out laughing but that would destroy our upper hand, so I dig my fingernails deep into my palm to distract myself from the fabulousness of this moment.
“Welcome!” Mrs. Holt replies excitedly. Then she stands up and brushes her skirt out. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where we’ve put you.” She scurries around the table so fast you’d think her pantyhose were on fire.
Buck inclines his head slightly as though giving her permission to lead the way. Meanwhile, I feel like a total poser who’s going to get busted and thrown off the premises at any moment.
Mrs. Holt leads us to the very ballroom where Buck and I used to spy on Davis and Jessica. She stops at a table in the middle of the seating area. “It’s the best seat in the house.”
“Thank you,” Buck responds. “This should be fine.” I love how he’s not assuring her it’s perfect. He’s not gushing or acting like she’s doing us any favors. Quite the contrary. His whole attitude is such that he’s honoring her with his presence, not vice versa. He’s very Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.
“I love your magazine,” Mrs. Holt says. “I particularly enjoyed the article about having tea with the royal family during the holidays. What was it like?” she asks like Buck is going to give her some scandalous dish.
“I can’t really say, madam. I’m not one to gossip about my friends.”
The inside of my palm is going to look like hamburger meat by the end of the night if he keeps this up. Then he tells our hostess, “If you’d be so kind as to fetch my companion and me a glass of champagne.”
Mrs. Holt runs off like getting our drinks is the very thing she was born to do. As soon as she leaves the room, I burst out laughing. “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”
“Damn straight, I am. I’m willing to bet you are, too.” His eyes twinkle with blatant mischief.
“You could say that,” I concede. “This place should start to fill up pretty soon. What do you suggest we do while we wait?”
He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room. “Let’s snoop. We’ve always wanted to see the inside of this pile of bricks and now’s our chance.” He removes the camera from his coat pocket and announces, “Tonight we get retribution for those poor losers we once were.”
A flood of excitement courses through me as we turn left down a hallway full of elegant loveseats and side tables. Buck takes several photographs, making sure to get a few of the oil paintings on the walls. We explore for fifteen minutes or so before Mrs. Holt finds us again.
She’s holding champagne flutes that she hurries to hand off. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You might want to come back to the ballroom now, the first dance is about to start.”
Buck leans in and whispers for my ears only, “Let’s wow them with our paso doble.”
“You’ve got to be kidding?” I gasp. Buck and I spent the summer before college practicing our