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Beside The Potted palm

  • keltzster 

Beside The Potted Palm

Lucy hadn’t wanted to be here, but her boss had all but mandated that she attend this cocktail party celebrating the head of the publishing company. She gave herself an hour, and then she was going home, her assignment fulfilled. She detested time wasted with empty chatter about things of no consequence. 

“You need to be networking,” Ms. Goodwin had said, “so you know who does what and who to go to for a specific need. You’re not going to learn that seated at your desk, are you? I like to work with self-starters,” she said, implying that Lucy was not one. Yet. The unspoken understanding was that if Lucy did not become one, she wouldn’t be here long, no matter how good she was at other duties.

That’s why she was here, in her ‘little black dress’ complete with gold hoop earrings and choker, bangles at her wrist, sensible black heels on her feet, little gold clutch bag squeezed to her side under her left arm, placed smack dab in the corner of the room, right next to a towering potted palm. Thank God for corners in crowded rooms and potted plants. She held a glass of cabernet in her right hand, taking tiny sips, hoping to make it last until her departure. 

Watching from her vantage point was amusing enough, her playing the old game of trying to determine what everyone’s backstory was. So intent on studying a blonde-haired woman laughing and standing a tad too close the man she was chatting with, she didn’t notice the man now standing on the other side of the palm, until he spoke.

“That one should have a sign saying ‘danger’ hanging around her neck, don’t you agree?”

She started, then laughed and turned to see one of the most attractive middle-aged men she’d ever seen except on a movie screen. Good Lord, what was he doing talking with her? Suddenly, she felt hot, flushed.

“I think she’s going through a divorce,” Lucy said, “and just needs to know she’s still ‘got’ it, you know? She’s going to be flagellating herself in the morning over all she’s doing tonight.”

“That’s a good read,” he said. “Let’s give her permission just for tonight to try out her new self on her new journey.”

“I agree,” Lucy said. “That’s very kind of us. Magnanimous, even.”

They laughed.

“Now,” he said, “Why have you usurped my favorite corner of this room, hidden away behind the greenery?”

His favorite corner? She doubted he ever spent time standing in a corner for very long.

“I’m a spy!” she blurted out. Oh, God! Where had that nonsensical silliness originated? “Shhh! Tell no one or I’ll have to take measures.”

“That explains it,” he said, his face serious. “You shall have my utmost discretion. No one will ever hear it from me.” He smiled and her heart did a crazy dance. She realized she had forgotten to be nervous. Maybe it was those mesmerizing blue eyes of his, hypnotizing her. 

“Uh, and you? Why are you here in this corner?” She couldn’t stop looking into his eyes.

“Same as you,” he said. “Watching, thinking, creating.” 

“Are you a writer, too?” she asked.

“No, I own this company,” he said.

The guy they were meant to be celebrating? Whoa, she thought. This story is about to get good.

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