Ghostly Love Ch 02

It was a disaster. When they had arrived, they were greeted by a dozen people Daniel worked with whom all called him "Danny Boy." Funny, Brenda hated that. Daniel didn't seem to mind though.

Soon they were seated at a table with three other couples. All snobs, Brenda later classified them. The woman on her left was the wife of one of the newest partners in the firm. Her hair was blonde, and styled impeccably in a short bob. Very chic. She had raised an eye brow when Brenda sat down next to her, giving her a rude once over.

Brenda felt as if she were a horse, being weighed and measured before a sale. Turning her attention away from the rude woman, Brenda smiled at everyone else at the table. They were all dressed impeccably. The men, including, dear Daniel, wore hand tailored Tuxedos, while the women, who were more toward thirties and forties than early twenties, like Brenda, were wearing very, almost gaudy, outfits. The blonde next to her wore her dress of scarlett silk tailored in a classic nineteen seventies flappy dress obviously disapproved of Brenda's black one.

Thankfully dinner didn't last long at all. Soon, Daniel dragged her up so he could mingle with co-workers and clients alike. She met several of his office employees, and many clients. Soon, one of the wives to a potential client had dragged her away with Daniel's permission to talk with the other women folk. She seemed very interested in her political views. When they reached the other women, Brenda had changed the subject.

"Why he's a very successful architect." Melodie Browning said. She had been the woman to drag her off. So, that's why she was dripping money. Brenda almost shuddered.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Browning, I asked what you did for a living." Brenda reminded her.

"Nothing." Melodie seemed shocked that Brenda hand't gotten that conclusion the first time around. Brenda made a soft O with her lips and smiled reassuringly at Mrs. Browning. "What does your husband do?"

"Oh, Dan's not my husband. He's my boyfriend. He's a partner at Enhert, de Morte, and Enhert." Brenda smiled at Mrs. Browning. "He's the second Enhert." Mrs. Browning smiled.

"That's lovely dear. Quite the catch, eh?"

"I was with him before he became a partner." Mrs. Browning smiled.

"Do you work, Miss Cottonwood?"

"Yes, I'm the owner and executive chef of Servello. It's in the Pearl District downtown. . ." When all the other women ceased their conversation to stare at her, Brenda tried not to blush.

"You own Servello?" A woman with black hair in a tight french twist asked. Brenda nodded and sipped the red wine she held in her hand. "The Bistro and bakery?" Another woman asked. Brenda nodded again.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty two."

One woman shook her head. "Not possible, your too young."

Brenda shrugged. "Even ask Dan Enhert. My boyfriend." Unbeknownst to her, Dan had been walking toward her when she told the women to ask him.

"Ask me what?"

"What do I do for a living?"

"She owns a place called Servello. It's a bakery and a . . .what is the word, honey?"

"Bistro." She supplied. Daniel nodded and watched with amusement as all the women began to clamor for her attention. Apparently they had all been to Servello and adored it.

When several of the women's husbands arrived, the topic turned. Brenda heaved a sigh of relief. She hated being the center of attention. Even as a child being the center of attention, especially Daddy's attention had not been a good thing. Brenda grimaced and pushed the thoughts of her father out of her mind.

The men began to speak about politics, and surprising to Bren, the women too. One of the men began to praise President George W. Bush. Brenda found herself shaking her head.

"President Bush spend more time picking fights with other countries than he does trying to better this country." Brenda had a strong hate for the man her country called president. "How many of you, or your friends, or co-workers, have children around seventeen or eighteen? Do you know that if that scum bag of a president is re elected that there will be a draft? He's already killed to many kids in this so called "war." Nearly five hundred. Pardon me, but I believe that President Bush should be held accountable for every single one of those deaths. He should be hung by his toe nails, and whipped with a wet noodle." Brenda nodded to herself.

Every one stared at her in disbelief. "How dare you speak of our president in such a manor. You've no right to question him." One of the women stated.

"If I didn't question my leaders, if I didn't demand to be answered to, I wouldn't be doing my duty as an American citizen. Pardon me, but ma'am, have you ever read, actually read, the constitution of the United States of America? It says we are demanded as citizens to demand and question our leaders at every turn. If we don't, who will?"

One of Daniel's co-workers obviously thought her to be a lawyer. He leaned close to Daniel that it was a "Good thing your wife was indeed your wife, because with that kind of passion, Danny boy, you would loose any case brought up with her on the prosecution."

Shaking her head, Brenda excused herself, and began to walk to the entrance. She needed some cool air. Daniel caught up with her first. Grabbing her arm, he dragged her to the exit. Thankfully she already had her wrap and purse with her.

"What the Hell has gotten into you?" Daniel whispered angrily into her ear. Once they reached the sanctuary of the out doors, Daniel handed his Valet ticket to a young boy and waited until he scurried off before reprimanding her further.

It didn't end until she got home.

Unlocking her front door, Daniel followed her inside, crushing her pride and stomping on her dignity. Brenda didn't look him in the eye. He didn't stop berating her until they had woven their way through the boxes down stairs and woven their way upstairs to her bedroom.

Brenda sat down on her bed and slipped her shoes off. Daniel began to pace in front of her. Lecturing her on what she may have done to his career, on how she thoroughly embarrassed him, and how she made him look like a fool.

She hadn't gotten a word in etch wise since they had left the club. Finally, Daniel closed his mouth, continuing his pacing. "Daniel, I'm sorry, but you told me to be myself. I was."

"Don't tell me your sorry. Sorry dosen't cut it. You may have killed my career. So don't tell me your sorry." Brenda tried to refrain from rolling her eyes. That wasn't possible, she knew. How was it possible that because she didn't like the current president, he would get fired? Oh yeah, it wasn't.

"I'm leaving." It was all the warning that Daniel gave before turning and leaving the room. Brenda gripped side of the bed and hung her head. When she heard him leave out the front, she got up quickly and left the room, heading toward the front door. Breezing quietly through the maze of boxes, Bren locked the door and made sure all the windows on the lower floor were locked as well. Slowly, Bren walked back up the stairs and trudged slowly back into her bedroom.

Walking into the adjoining bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her black dress was still in perfect condition, but her face, her face looked abnormally pale. Her make up seemed to be a different dimension on her face. It seemed to be raised up away from her skin.

Quickly and deftly she untied the ties on the back of the dress. When completely undone, the dress slipped to the bent crevasses of her elbows before she let it drop to the ground. Grabbing her large Eddie Bouer night shirt, she slipped it over her head and slipped her arms into it quickly. She never could abide looking at herself half or completely naked. She hated it.

Slipping her hands under her shirt, she flipped the bracket of her bra, and felt the black satin backless strapless thing fall to the floor. Sighing to herself, she kicked it into her dirty clothes pile in the corner of the bathroom. Well that was a waste of a few hundred bucks. Shaking her head over the waste, she grabbed the container of make-up remover and glanced in the mirror. Pitiful. Quickly and deftly, she rubbed make up removal cream over her face, before rubbing a tissue over the cream. As soon as the make up was cleared off, she turned on the warm water, and splashed her face.

Wiping a towel down her face, ridding it of its left over water, Bren stood. Turning off the water quickly, Brenda walked back to her bedroom. Turning out all the lights, she was pitched into complete blackness. Sleepily, she pulled the comforter and sheets back on the bed and crawled into them. Funny how she hadn't been sleepy until Daniel left. No wonder. He always took a lot of energy.

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