“OKAY, HEAR ME out.” Doug leans against the counter in the teachers’ lounge, munching baby carrots as usual.
“Whatever you’re about to say, I hate it.”
“My wife wants me to come with her to a book thing.”
I shrug. “You love books. You’re an English teacher.”
He groans. “Yes, but this is a romance book release thing. Amy said there will be some other men there, but I was hoping you’d come along.”
“You want me to come along with you on a date with your wife? To a romance book event?”
He nods. “Yes. I’d like you to keep me company while my wife swoons. Maybe you meet another swooning woman…plus I will owe you.”
I arch a brow. “Owe me what?”
He holds his palms up. “Name your price. Recess detail? School dance chaperone?”
“Wait. I have to chaperone the dance? Since when?”
Doug waves a hand, dismissively. “AJ. Please?”
I sigh. This sounds like the absolute last place on earth that I want to be…apart from alone in my empty apartment, I guess. I act like a huge jerk about it, but Doug is a good friend and a solid colleague. We’ve taught together since I was fresh out of student teaching. I groan. “Fine. Text me the details.”
And that is how I find myself under-dressed at the Fort Pitt Museum, surrounded by people in 18th century costumes, gushing over the historical romance talents of romance author Chloe Petals. This party is like someone wanted a re-do on their bar mitzvah, with over-the-top decor and costuming only the ultra rich can pull off on a weeknight. Doug and Amy are nowhere in sight and I scowl as I dodge women in huge skirts and bonnets with giant feather plumes that tickle my nose.
I wander up to a table with stacks of books on it. Rebel Heir appears to be the sequel to The Redcoat, in which a colonial woman falls for a British soldier. And then they have a child. Who apparently grows up to be the hero in this next bodice ripper.
As soon as I form the thought of the words bodice ripper, I turn to see a heaving bodice. Samantha Vine stands beside me glaring, with her hands on her costumed hips. She’s dressed in a low-cut blue gown with a bow in between her breasts, and I cannot draw my eyes away.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing here, Trachtenberg?” She hisses at me and snatches the book from my hand, slapping it back on the table and shaking the stack.
“Maybe I’m here to meet Chloe Petals,” I growl back at her. “What’s it to you?” This woman gets my goat every time, and we seem to be running into each other everywhere. If she’s not insulting my students or disrupting my class, she’s galavanting around playing dress-up.
Samantha snorts. “As if Chloe wants you here. You’re not even in costume.” She pokes me in the shoulder and I stare down at her lace cuff. It flutters as she breathes heavily at me.
“If you must know, I’m meeting a colleague and his wife.”
She shakes her head. “You’re impinging. You keep showing up at my events with my special people.”
I arch a brow at her. “This is your event?”
Samantha rolls her eyes. “I’m throwing this party for Chloe, yes. Someone has to champion her and her amazing writing.”
I open my mouth to retort but I feel a hand on my shoulder. “God, AJ, so sorry we’re late. Amy had an issue with her dress.” I turn to see Doug in a long wool coat and tri-corn hat, which he doffs at Samantha. “Good to see you again, Sam.”
She purses her lips, like she really can’t believe I was telling the truth about why I’m here. Recognition flashes across Samantha’s face and she seems to compose herself. “Doug Rogers, right?” She offers him her hand like some English lady and he actually kisses her knuckle, earning him a swat from his wife.
“Oh, sorry, this is Amy. Aim, this is Samantha Vine.”
Amy’s face lights up. “Oh, you’re from that Foof group, right? Alice loves hanging out with you.” Amy is dressed as a bar maid and I try to avert my eyes from her bosom, which leads me to stare back at Samantha’s. I swear if that bow moved, I could see her nipple. I cannot be standing here in jeans thinking about Samantha Vine’s nipple.
By the time I compose myself, Samantha and Amy are gushing about Sam’s friend group, and Doug has grabbed my arm. “We can just ease away now and find the bar.”
As we step inside, I swat Doug in the stomach. “You didn’t tell me it was a fucking costume party.”
He cringes. “I only found out an hour ago.”
“And it didn’t occur to you to call me or something?”
His eyes widen. “I did call, man. Your voicemail message says you don’t take messages.” He shrugs and reaches into a metal bucket, extracting two plain glass bottles of beer. I sigh and take a swig. I look around the room, which is mostly full of women fanning themselves with copies of Rebel Heir. There is just one other man that I can see, dressed as a colonial soldier, complete with a fake musket. At least I hope it’s fake. He’s got his arm tightly wound around a woman who is talking animatedly to… “Aw, hell.”
Samantha whips her head to the side at my words, seeing me again. She strides over to Doug and me. “You’re like a child,” she says. “Following me around. I have enough people in my life trying to con their way into my free time.”
“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m just trying to drink a beer with my buddy here.” I elbow Doug, who is mid-sip on a beer and spills some on his cravat.
“Shit,” he says. “I gotta go find some paper towels or something. This is a rental.” He rushes off toward the bathroom as Samantha’s eyes flare at me.
“I hope that doesn’t stain.”
“Well, lucky for him, he’s friends with a science teacher. I’ve got tricks that can get stains out.”
Samantha furrows her brow. “Okay, that’s actually pretty useful.” We stare at each other for a few beats and I will myself not to look at her chest. It doesn’t work. It’s all I can do not to reach out and cup those full globes. I squeeze my beer bottle with both hands.
A woman steps up to the podium at the front of the room and taps on the microphone a few times, causing the guests to wince and then hush. “Hi, everyone,” she says, nervously. “I’m Chloe Petals.” Samantha lets out a whoop that sets off a round of applause. “I just want to thank you all so much for being here with me tonight, to celebrate my new release. I can’t tell you what it means for me to have home-town support.” She sniffs. The crowd claps again.
Chloe points a gloved finger toward Samantha. “I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the extraordinary support of Samantha Vine, the most amazing friend anyone could ask for. I know that sounds generic and I’m a writer so I should be able to do better.” Chloe sniffs again and blows Samantha a kiss. “I’m just thankful is what I am. All of you, everyone who reads my books, makes it possible for me to keep on writing them.”
A dark-haired woman in the crowd yells, “Chloe, we love you!” I recognize her as the bartender from the other night. What did Samantha call her? Expert mixologist? I really am intruding on Samantha’s social circle, and I don’t understand how that keeps happening. I don’t socialize with this type anymore.
Chloe opens a copy of the book and begins reading from a chapter apparently set around the Treaty of Paris. I note that Samantha is watching the crowd rather than Chloe, a look of pleasure on her face.
I step closer and lean in to whisper, “It was nice of you to do this. Host a party for her.”
She turns to face me, her eyes shining with emotion. She seems to struggle to think of a comeback and eventually just nods. “Thank you,” she says.
By the time Chloe finishes reading, Doug has returned from the restroom looking none the worse for wear. Samantha drifts away and Doug studies me. “You want to hate-fuck her,” he says. I don’t bother denying it.