“Braden! How the hell are ya?!” said the guy with the teeth, grabbing Braden’s hand and pumping it up and down almost frantically. He looked like a demented Ken doll.
“You’re looking quite dashing tonight, Braden,” said the cold-looking woman in an even colder voice. “Isn’t he, Felicity?” she asked the sullen young woman. I had never seen a more inappropriately named person in my life. She would have made Wednesday Addams look like Doris Day.
“Yes, mother,” Felicity answered without even glancing in Braden’s direction. The skinny older man said nothing. I almost didn’t see him standing there for a moment. He blended in so well with the white tent wall.
“And you must be the fabulous Gabrielle Ginsberg,” Mr. Teeth, who I suspected was Cole Stephenson, the lecherous politician, went on, while speaking directly to my boobs. Fabulous?
“Gabrielle,” Braden said, pulling me closer to him, “these are the Masons and this is…”
“Cole Stephenson at your service,” Mr. Teeth said, nodding like a bobble-head doll and giving me a cheesy smile and the two-handed finger point that announced he was a wild and crazy guy. “And this is the kingmaker’s daughter.” He grinned like he had just said something witty.
Mrs. Mason, in contrast, was looking at me like she wanted to kick me. Or damn me to Hell. Felicity was looking at me too, but I couldn’t really interpret her expression. At least it didn’t seem to involve wrath. Actually, she might have been admiring my necklace. I suspected that the blank expression on her face was as close as she came to expressing approval, or joy, or happiness, or anything. Mr. Mason said nothing and did nothing. I got the feeling he said and did nothing a lot. Maybe he really was a hologram.
“Ginsberg?” Mrs. Mason said in a way that made it sound like she was saying, ‘root rot,’ or ‘genital warts’. “I don’t believe I’m familiar with that name.”
“Well, there was a famous poet, Allen Ginsberg, and there’s a Supreme Court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg. No relation.”
“Gabrielle’s father is a real mover and shaker in the Big Apple,” Cole put in and winked at me. I cringed. He reminded me of a used car salesman — who moonlighted as a p**n ographer. “We’re lucky to have someone with her obvious sophistication joining our little circle of country bumpkins.” His gaze was traveling up and down my body like he was a starving dog eyeing up a side of beef. Even though he was creeping me out, I almost laughed out loud when he called me sophisticated and the Pierces bumpkins.
“New York, hmm.” Apparently Mrs. Mason didn’t approve of New Yorkers. “I’m sure she’s very sophisticated.” I was pretty sure that she had just called me a tramp. I didn’t want to contemplate what else she might be thinking, as it would probably have been offensive on so many different levels.
I saw Beth gesturing to us in the background and I nudged Braden and let him know.
“Oh sorry to run!” he said, not looking sorry at all. “But my sister needs us.” He pulled me off quickly and we headed for the stage. When we got there Beth let Braden know that she was going to need some extra help for the upcoming auction. He hesitated.
“I don’t know if I want to leave you alone with these people,” he said to me.
“I don’t blame you, Braden,” Beth said, glancing at Cole and cringing herself. I think Cole made a lot of people cringe. “Gabrielle, you could help me out by bringing these lists up to the house and putting them on the desk in the library. If you don’t mind, that is. It’s just busy work, but it would get you out of here, and it really would be doing me a favor. They have important information on them and I don’t want them to get lost.”
“Sure, no problem.” I took the papers from her and set out for the house. When I got there I found it bustling with various catering, decorating and entertainment people. I dropped the papers off and headed back toward the tent.
Halfway there I was cornered by Cole Stephenson. “So, Gabrielle, this thing with Braden’s not serious is it? I mean he’s a bit of a ladies’ man you know?” I couldn’t believe this guy’s nerve.
“Well now he’s one lady’s man,” I said as I tried to walk around him.
“Well, if it doesn’t work out, I’d like a shot at you.” A shot at me? “You know, there are some people who think I might make it to the White House someday; so you could say I’m looking for my First Lady.” He gave me a toothy grin. Or perhaps I should say he gave my boobs a toothy grin. I felt like I needed to bathe.
“As enticing as that sounds, I’m afraid I’m not interested.” Once again I tried to do an end run around him but he was quick with evasive maneuvers. We looked like we were doing some kind of strange dance.
“Hey there, I hope I didn’t offend you! I just meant that you’re one little girl who shouldn’t go to waste. With your connections and money,” he glanced at my necklace, “and my political savvy, the sky’s the limit, babe.”
“I’m very happy with Braden.”
“For now, but he doesn’t always appreciate beautiful women like I do. I would treat you like a princess. Just keep it in mind.” I wouldn’t be able to forget it if I tried. I would probably have nightmares about it. Then out of nowhere a very unlikely cavalry arrived.
“Ms. Ginsberg. I wonder if you can help me. I have a legal question,” Felicity Mason said. Great. I hated giving out free legal advice at parties, but at that moment, I would have drafted her will in crayon on a cocktail napkin to get away from Cole.
“Sure! Call me Gabrielle. Let’s walk and talk.” We escaped from the Big Bad Wolf. When we were several feet away I asked her what I could help her with.
“Nothing. I just wanted to help you get away from him. He’s an ass**le.”
“Ah, so it’s not just me who thinks so.”
“No. Everybody thinks so, but only some people say so. He’s got his uses for some.”
“I see.” I didn’t really, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“You should watch out for him, and he’s not the only one. Marla’s not as stupid as she seems and my…”
“Gabrielle, over here!” I heard Braden call out as we approached the tent. I thanked Felicity for her help and I walked up to Braden and tucked myself up close to him.