I was standing in front of a mansion, there was no other word for it, regretting my decision to come. My best friend, Vivica, who I called Vivitar because I thought that was hilarious despite no one else thinking it was, had invited me to the party here but had gotten sick at the last minute. She insisted I go without her. I protested; I knew no one rich or famous. Vivica made me rich-and-famous adjacent, in a Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon kind of way, but that wasn't enough to make me comfortable.
I looked down at my vintage burgundy velvet mini dress and shook my head, another decision I regretted. I was about to pull out my phone and see if the Uber that had just dropped me off was near enough to come back and get me, when a masculine voice startled me. I dropped my phone and he bent down and picked it up.
"Waiting for someone?" he asked, handing it to me.
He was what Vivitar would have called a tall drink of water. He was slim like he ran marathons or climbed mountains, with dark hair. He was wearing a brilliant crisp white shirt and navy slacks. In short, just my type.
"I think I made a mistake," I stammered. He looked like a million bucks. Literally. "I don't know anyone and..." I trailed off.
He offered his arm. "I'll introduce you around. Come on."
I took it and we walked up the steps that lead to the palatial Midcentury Modern style house. I was about to let go of his arm to get the invitation out of my purse, but the bouncer at the door waved us in with a simple, "Good evening. Enjoy the party."
As soon as we stepped into the vast entryway, a woman in ivory linen trousers and a flowy top appeared and handed us each a glass of champagne. "Your room is up here, sir," she said.
"Call me Penn," he said easily.
We followed Linen Lady up the stairs and were shown into a small suite decorated entirely in white. It was tasteful and comfortable. I wondered what kind of party had suites for the guests. Linen Lady was explaining that a bartender would be in to create us each a signature cocktail and that we were free to join the others as soon as we were refreshed.
"I would have introduced you, but I forgot to ask your name in the rush," Penn said. "It's all a bit much, isn't it? Gloria likes to pamper those she considers her top tier guests, but frankly, it feels like showing off and throwing money around."
"I'm Cass," I said. I wasn't about to comment on the hostess's pampering. I sunk into a deep white sofa and took a sip of my champagne.
"Do you want a cocktail?" Penn asked. "It's fun. The guy asks you a few questions that are unrelated to flavors or spirits and then whips up something perfectly suited to your tastes. But we can send him away and have him come back later."
I agreed that later would be better. We had champagne and I was now eager to join the party. I was afraid of what I might do if I was alone in a room with the man after I had too much to drink. Penn again offered his arm and escorted me back down the stairs, through the vast entryway and out onto the lawn that overlooked the lake.
Brightly colored plush chairs and sofas had been placed around the grounds. A hothouse worth of flowers overflowing huge urns competed with the roses and hollyhocks growing everywhere. Two waiters appeared, one with a tray of punch garnished with orchid blossoms, the other with tiny tarts with smoked salmon. We said no to both.
A swarm of beautiful thin women circled Penn and started cooing over him. Oh, well. So much for getting to know him. He started to introduce me around and realized all he knew was my first name. It didn't matter. None of the women were interested in me.
After a few minutes, Penn said to them, "Excuse us, would you?" He took my hand and led me to an emerald-green sofa. "I want to get to know you better," he said, still holding my hand.
There wasn't much to know, so I turned the conversation back to him. Instead of answering, he pointed out to the lake. A storm was headed our way.
