"Keep. Your. Eyes. Open, Jennifer," Tim basically growls at me as he holds my wrist so tight it hurts. His big brown eyes are very hard and cold as they stare at me, wanting me to take this as serious as a heart attack. It takes all that I am not to roll my eyes at this, but I nod once to answer.
It's at times like this that I wonder how in the hell I got myself into this. Not just that, but why I keep on with this farce as it has become so very stupid. Beyond stupid. It's gone into Jewish Space Lazer and drinking bleach to cure COVID stupid. So why am I still here?
In the beginning, this was all exciting and new. It felt like I was part of something important. Like a secret society, where I could feel important and know that we were doing honest goodness. Beyond that, there was a touch of the supernatural, which made life seem exciting and new again. Like there was a world here that I had never seen, but could be apart of.
Yeah, I was just 25 when I joined, which is pretty young to most, but that doesn't mean that life can't be boring. It was just work, go home, go on dates with idiots, go to work. Makes me wonder if I wasn't so bored...would I ever have joined? Would I have gone with Tim?
"He could be anyone," Tim states in his serious as can be tone. I look up at him again, where I never mind looking into those eyes of his. They are very easy to get lost in, as is his face. So is his energy for that matter. He's just so filled with conviction.
My mind then drifts to memories of seeing Tim's body. Of times when we all went to the gym and I saw him work out. Oh, how I could watch him do set after set, secretly wishing it was me he was using instead of some gym equipment. Where I bet he could go all night long, and then some.
"R-Right," I state, trying to sound as serious as he does while coming out of my thoughts. Tim nods at me, then looks at Tommy who is behind me. The two men nod at each other, signaling that it is "go" time.
With his "destiny" filling him, Tim turns to face the door. When he does, I take a quick glance at him and what he's wearing. I've honestly never seen him wear anything so, well, fancy. Tim, by his own admission is a simple man. Wearing a t-shirt and jeans always, except for special events when he puts on a polo. But tonight he's wearing a pretty stylish button down shirt with silky looking slacks.
"It's go time," Tommy says behind me, pumping himself up, much like Tim is doing while facing the door. If I didn't know either of them, I might think this was some operation to rob the party we are about to attend. But I bet if I told anyone the real reason we are crashing this party, they would die laughing.
Tim then takes a look to the left and right, most likely checking to see if we are being watched or followed. Sad to say, this run down city street is all but empty. That is if you don't count the trash being blown around by the wind.
The metal door is then opened by Tim, revealing the insides of this old building. At once the once doors reveal an atmosphere that is counter to the old and crumbling atmosphere outside the building. Outside is the ghetto of all ghetto areas, while inside it looks like a New Yorker upper crust party.
Just in case, I pull out the "Invitation" that I was given for this party. Fake of course. It's a copy of something that was found on the internet. But I scan the invitation anyway, where it lists the day and time of tonight, for this "New Adams Art Exhibit."
This "party" is actually an art exhibit and this place is an art gallery. Why they put it here, I have no clue. It's supposedly a very secret art gallery that isn't open to the public. It's invitation only, even when there isn't a party. From what I've read, the art here is so good it'll make you cry. The sort of stuff that will change your life.
With his shoulders hunched over, Tim enters the building looking like he's about to be in a battle royale. When he does this, he just stands out so badly. His fancy clothes can't seem to hide the dumb-redneck vibe that he gives off. It pulses from him, making it pretty obvious he rather be drinking a beer while laughing at a friend making a dead deer dance.
Tommy moves from behind me now, walking much like Tim. He even walks and stands next to Tim while the pair of them scan the area. Then the two men glance at each other and turn to walk in opposite directions.
With a sigh, I walk slowly into the building, and into the lobby. Thankfully Tim believed my lie earlier about how I have to walk slow because of the dress I'm wearing. I said it because I thought maybe I could actually enjoy this party. To take in the vibe of being around high class people. Where I can pretend I'm not living my life for maybe half an hour.
I'll admit, the reason I signed up for this "mission" is to get a glimpse of high class life. Where people here will think of me as on their level. Where I'll be beautiful, smart and classy, instead of the silly accountant that I really am. That is until they figure out I'm lying and kick me out.
Moving deeper into the actual gallery, I become a bit flabbergasted. They weren't kidding about the art. All over there are breathtaking pieces, the sort that I feel guilty even getting to see. There's one painting that somehow looks like it keeps changing.
Smiling, I grab a glass of champagne from a table and drink about half of it. I feel it burn as it goes down, giving me that familiar sense of liquid courage. I just hope it'll be courage enough to roleplay good enough to fool the people here. Maybe even find a future husband.
I then look around to try and find Tim. Despite the stupidity of why we are here, I need to make him think I'm doing the mission. That I'm trying to help out. Otherwise I'll get a lecture in front of the entire group.
Tim's off in a corner, quickly about to disappear from my sight, checking everyone out. And I don't mean that in a "I want to have sex with you" check out, but sizing people up to fight. It's like he glances at each man he sees and then ponders what it would take to beat the guy up. But since most of the men are middle aged, I don't think he would have that hard of the time.
Finishing my champagne, I feel like going up to Tim and yelling at him for a change. They go on and on about blending in during the mission where he sticks out worse than if he had his dick out. At the end of the night, he's going to bitch and complain about how this mission was a failure, but never think it was because of him. But man...what an ass on the guy.
"Well hello beautiful," a very silky voice greets from behind me. Something about that voice is so sexy and beautiful, as strange as that sounds. It makes me think of capturing silk as a drink and pouring it into my ears.
Turning around, I look for the owner of the voice as it's clear he's speaking to me. When I see who is looking at me, I pause. I am not sure who I was expecting, but it wasn't what I'm seeing. It's enough that I feel the words I was about to say fade from my mind.
In front of me is a long rectangular wooden table with plenty of seats. It's mean as a table for people to sit and consume the refreshments. But at the moment, there's a tall slim build man on the other side of it, smiling at me.
