Page 5 of Love at First Ride
Evelyn is working her way through a nearby rack, flipping through a row of dresses, each of them in its own protective covering. ‘Got it!’ she announces, moments later. ‘This is the one I was thinking of.’
I hear a zipper before she pulls out a copper brown satin cocktail dress with thick straps.
‘Go put this one on, honey,’ she commands me, the hanger dangling from one finger at the end of her outstretched arm. ‘It’ll suit you.’
A few minutes later, I know the dress doesn’t suit me. I stare at my reflection in the mirror in one of the spare bedrooms. It’s at least one size too big, ill-fitting and the square neckline sags at the breast. When I go out in the corridor to voice my objection, Evelyn is already back downstairs with my dad, as the other guests are beginning to arrive.
The flash from a camera fills my vision. I see spots again, as the noise level in the room grows louder. My arm is wrapped around Dad’s waist while more ‘family’ pictures are taken. It was Evelyn’s desire that weput on a united front.
When Evelyn calls time on the photographer, my fake smile evaporates. Dad presses his lips against my temple and gives my waist a squeeze.
‘All done,’ he says to me lightly, as Evelyn moves back off to mingle with her guests. ‘Everything okay?’
I tug at my dress. Across from me, Doug gives me a smirk. He continues to look at me over the rim of his glass of Coke, like he’s itching to say something derogatory.
‘I wish you’d have told me what kind of a party it was,’ I mutter in Dad’s direction. ‘Like, these guests are basically all the richest people in Canyon.’
‘Did I not tell you that?’
I tug at the other side of my dress, uncomfortable. ‘You didn’t say that I was going to have to make conversation with the sheriff, or—’
Evelyn is back, snapping her fingers at my dad. ‘Rick, honey, come say hi.’
He gives me a half smile as he’s dragged away, and Doug seizes an opportunity.
He sidles over to me. ‘That dress is the shade of the Hershey squirts,’ he says from the side of his mouth. ‘It’s like somebody got food poisoning and took an explosive shit all over you.’
‘Let me guess,’ I shoot back. ‘You’ve been storing up that line for the last ten minutes. You must be so pleased with yourself that you finally said it out loud.’
‘Not at all. Just wanted to compliment you on your poop-stained ’fit.’
I wish I was one of those people who had a witty comeback for everything. But I’m not, and social situations only increase my anxiety. So, I stand there, arms by my side, without a drink, watching the crowded room full of party guests and feeling utterly trapped.
For dinner, I’m seated at one end of the extended dining table. Thankfully, Doug’s at the opposite end. A line of servers emerges from the kitchen carrying the plates with our starter. I make polite conversation with the woman in her forties next to me, who appears to work for City Hall. She looks like she wants to be here about as much as I do, and I make small talk about my job as a candy striper, working as a volunteer at Sunset Pines Nursing Home in Electric Hills.
I don’t know when the atmosphere changes exactly, but when the main course is over and as the plates are being cleared, there are raised voices around the center of the table.
‘Chief, my point is, yet again, that progress has stalled,’ a glamorous woman with coiffed hair and dressed in a purple suit raises her voice to the person opposite her. She has a strong southern accent. ‘We are nowhere closer to resolving this situation than we were a year ago. Rapture is a renegade town. Friday, Saturday nights, the college kids go up there now, did you know that? They go party there, because it’s seen as the latest social mediatrend. And Echo Salinger welcomes them with open arms, because it gives more support to his cause.’
I bristle at the mention of Rapture, the township on the borders of northeast Canyon, because it reminds me of my miserable American high school experience.
‘That’s not true,’ my stepmother says, and the entire room goes quiet. She looks to a younger man in a suit with slicked-back hair. I recognize him as one of her more junior staff. ‘Is that true? Why did I not know about this?’ she asks him, her eyes narrowing.
He looks nervous. ‘Uh, I did not know about that, no.’
‘Scotch & Smoke is the bar,’ the glamorous woman says. ‘They have a system. They give out wristbands to these college kids to gain entry. Echo Salinger’s invested in the most powerful generator possible. You can practically hear rock music from the highway.’
‘Sheriff?’ Evelyn questions a second man, who looks quite young for his role. ‘Did you know about this?’
I don’t know the county sheriff’s name but he covers his mouth and clears his throat. ‘I’ll have somebody look into it.’
‘The point is,’ the glamorous woman says, bringing the attention of the room back to her, ‘We need to cut all this bullshit legal red tape and get the heavy machinery rolling into that one-horse townnow, before it’s too late.’
Our desserts begin to arrive, and I can’t hear what she’s saying anymore because her words are drowned out by other conversation.
‘Have you ever been to Rapture?’ the mousy woman next to me asks as a plate of pumpkin pie slides under my nose.
I pick up my fork. ‘Uh, once,’ I say. ‘Years ago. I went with my stepmother. Have you?’
