I was beginning to understand why I was the one selected to attend this convention. Having only worked at my architectural design firm for five years since earning my degree, I was by far among the most junior members of the staff. So when they offered me a weekend in Boston, albeit in March, at a four-star hotel for the annual Elevator Contractors Convention, I didn't know whether to be honored or suspicious. Now, staring at a nearly empty reception hall, the old boys long gone and probably three sheets to the wind already, I found myself the only twenty-something in the room. Every one else was older and, judging by their demeanor, equally or even less enthusiastic about being here. Some were mindlessly scanning their cell phones, some struggling with small talk over by the wine bar, but all signs pointed to the fact that at 6pm on a Saturday night, I should probably get the hell out of here.
Walking out into the hallway, the view out the second floor window greeted me with a leaden and drizzly evening sky. Great, I thought, guess I won't even be going out in tonight. I didn't feel like bar hopping by myself in the rain, but resolving not to just give up and head back to my room, I hit the down button thinking I'd at least give the hotel bar a shot. I could certainly use a drink or three after the mind-numbing afternoon I'd just endured.
When the bell chimed and the doors parted, I walked straight in not realizing I'd been gazing at my own shoes. When I raised my head, what I saw and what I heard stopped me cold in my tracks.
"Hello there, Devin Preston."
In front of me was an absolutely beautiful young Asian-American woman of maybe five feet two in a charcoal spaghetti strap cocktail dress. Her pixie cut jet black hair framed her round cheeks and charming smile, but what made me freeze, beside the fact that she somehow knew my name, were her stunning amber eyes that luminously offset her pale caramel skin.
The look on my face must have been priceless, because she immediately giggled and glanced at my chest before nodding. "How's the meeting coming along?" she asked, indicating my nametag.
I laughed aloud at myself, piecing it all together. "Ah, right. Fine, just fine." I let my eyes wander just a bit, assessing her outfit before returning the question. "And what brings you here looking so lovely, Miss...?"
"Oh, you know, nothing. I just like riding elevators in fancy hotels. Makes a girl feel special. And I'm Penny." She didn't offer her hand with her introduction, instead stood with them both behind her back, rocking slightly in her high-heeled sandals.
"I see. Guess it's my lucky day, then huh," I said, attempting a joke and immediately regretting it. Her deadpan response told me it was nothing she hadn't heard a thousand times before, and I felt like a first class moron.
"Ha, lucky penny," she said flatly, "we'll see about that. Where're you headed?"
"Figured I take a peak at the hotel bar for a spell. You?"
"Well, by the most extraordinary of coincidences, I myself am heading in the same direction. Perhaps you need an escort?"
My eyes widened at her choice of words. I was having a hard time gauging her age, much less why she was alone in this hotel dressed so nicely. And her conversation wasn't your ordinary hotel chat. If she knew what she'd just implied she didn't let on at all, so I rolled along with it as the doors opened to the lobby.
"Right. Well, sure. Let's have a drink." I wasn't even sure she was old enough, but she didn't hesitate at the suggestion. As we crossed the vast marble foyer towards the lounge, I was compelled to inquire a bit. "I would have thought you were meeting someone here."
"Actually, I'm trying to leave someone behind. Many someones, in fact. A whole family of them." We walked in and sat down at the bar, and she ordered a glass of wine and I a whiskey soda. We were both, of course, carded, and both of us passed. That answered one lingering question.
"My cousin's wedding reception is up on the third floor," she continued. "My mom's brother's son. I'm not really tight with that whole side of the family, if you know what I mean. They don't really get that my dad's Japanese. But my parents insisted that I come along. I showed my face for as long as I could stand to, then I feigned illness and begged off to sleep in my room. Which is exactly where I am right now." She gave me a conspiratorial smile over her glass.
"And you don't think anyone will see you down here?" I asked, looking around perhaps a bit nervously.
"You mean with you?"
"I just meant that if you didn't actually..."
"I know what you just meant, Mr. Devin Preston. Nope, trust me, it's an open bar upstairs. Not one of those rednecks in my mom's family would come down here and spend money when the booze is free. Anyway, almost nobody else in that crowd even knows who I am. I'm as good as gold down here. And what about you?" She leaned forward to read my nametag. "No buddies from the...NECA?"
"National Elevator Contractors Association." I pulled off the tag and stuffed it into my pocket. "Nope. My office sent me out here all by myself."
"Elevator Contractors Association!? Didn't know such things existed. How's that working out for you?" she asked looking absently at the bar, with a tone that implied utter disinterest.
"Has its ups and downs." Another deadpan look. "Right. Enough with the dumb jokes. I'm a low level designer at an architecture company, and I've just spent one very long day trying to figure out why they sent me out here."
I stirred my drink and took a sip. "So you came out with your parents, huh? I should probably ask how old you are."
She paused for a second before answering, then leaned over just a bit, looking me in the eye. "How old do you want me to be?"
Her brilliant hazel eyes were so engrossing it had me distracted, and I failed to understand the question. "What do you mean?"
She sat back and took a slow drink from her glass. "I mean, you just met me in this hotel, we're sharing a drink. I look good. You look good. But you can't figure out if you should keep going or not, right?"
I blushed and stammered a bit. "Well, no, I mean. Yeah, I just..."
She held my gaze and continued. "I could tell you anything at all, and you'd have to trust me or decide to go along with it." She paused, putting her glass down. "Or leave, I guess, if you didn't want to go there, but you shouldn't do that, please." She put her hand on my knee for a moment. I looked down at her hand, then across to her own bare knees, crossed and compelling.
She shifted her position and re-crossed her legs, allowing me to glimpse a flash of her thighs. "Tell you what," she said, "we'll play a game. Two lies and a truth. I'll give you three stories, and you can pick the one you like." Her demeanor had become much more playful as her drink settled in, and I was feeling much better now finishing my own. This was obviously going somewhere, but in an entirely unexpected way.
"Alright, I'm in. I don't quite follow you, but I'm in."
"You'll see. Watch. According to what you know so far, I'm here with my family for a wedding, so did I arrive with them, or did I meet them? Maybe I came with them because I'm still living with them, because I'm only eighteen and still in high school. Do you think I look that young?"
"You know, honestly, I don't think so. You forget we got carded when we sat down."
"And you forget that a fake ID is not so hard to acquire. So I'm sitting here with you, very young and, well, very attractive," she sat up proudly and smoothed her dress, "and my parents think I'm safely back in my room sick in bed while they're off getting hammered with the rest of them. Story number one."
"And a risky one at that," I said. "Not sure if I want you that young."
"Hm, but you do want me," she smiled, "so that's good. Story number two. I met my parents here because I'm already in college, so I'm old enough to be a safer bet, but still pretty young in the scheme of things. Does that make me more attractive?"
"You're already attractive, I thought we covered that."
"Well, sort of," she said giving me a little squint. "I did, but you haven't said as much. With your mouth anyway."
"Allow me to remedy that. You are," I paused and gave her whole being a good long look, "very, very attractive."
She smiled and raised her glass in appreciation. "Thank you. You're pretty darn good looking yourself. So, story number three. I made all of this up completely: the family, the wedding, all of it. I'm actually a graduate student over at any one of the universities in town, and I'm here working on my doctoral thesis."
