Of All the Gin Joints

Sophie

I challenge every man who has ever complained about the discomfort of their “penguin suit” to spend several hours wearing an adhesive bra, pantyhose, and an elaborate gown. Not a single one of them would have anything bad to say about their bowtie and pants after suffering through an evening with silicone stuck to their under-boob. All in an effort to make themselves more appealing for someone else. Who ever decided a track suit gala was a bad thing?

On one hand, I enjoy getting glammed up—having my hair and makeup done, wearing a fancy gown and sky-high heels. It always makes me feel beautiful. On the other hand, I have a mild adhesive allergy, so this particular outfit could be catastrophic for my boobs.

After a quick glimpse in the mirror, I check my phone to confirm my car is here, then make my way out. Wilson is spending the evening with Celeste, but I’ll pick him up the second I can escape this wretched event. He’s slowly becoming more her dog than mine, but it’s nice knowing they have each other. Especially with my long work hours.

The black Town Car is at the end of the walkway, the driver already waiting with the door open.

“Good evening, Miss. I’m Elton. Pleasure to be at your service.”

“Elton, please, call me Sophie.”

He smiles and nods, gesturing for me to get in the car.

Before I slip inside, I stop at the door. “This other stop we’re making is to pick up a blind date I got sucked into bringing to this thing. I’ll pay you an extra hundred dollars to bring him home when I say the word.”

Elton chuckles, but clears his throat to recompose himself. “At your service, Miss… Sophie.” He hands me a card with his cell number and instructs me to text or call if I’m ready to ditch my date. Worth every penny. It always pays to have a backup plan.

Twenty-two minutes later, Elton pulls up to an apartment building in Oakridge. We chatted like acquaintances the entire way. I appreciate his willingness to distract me. He’s a new grandfather to a toddler his son and daughter-in-law adopted from Haiti. It’s clear he’s a proud Papa. Unlike my father, who is the reason I’m here to pick up a complete stranger Ashlyn set me up with. She met him at her gym, and insists he’s “perfectly normal.”

As my date strolls down the path in front of the dilapidated apartment complex, flicking a burning cigarette onto the path, I have half a mind to tell Elton to make a break for it.

“Don’t go far tonight, Elton. I have a feeling I’ll be needing you sooner than later.”

“Now, Miss Sophie. Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Sound advice in most instances, but I can’t rationalize why someone would commit to an intense exercise regimen just to zap their lung capacity with cigarettes. Not only that, but he seems to think “black tie” meant he had to wear a black tie. That would be fine if his suit fit properly. It looks like he bought it his senior year of high school before he started working out.

Elton steps out of the car to open the opposite door for my date. As soon as the blond slides into the backseat, the cigarette smell wafts off of him.

I’m going to strangle Ashlyn.

“Wow. I figured you’d be hot if you’re friends with Ash, but damn. The picture she showed me didn’t look like this.” He whistles long and low. “I’m Chad.”

He must think he’s irresistible, because he leans toward me and tries to plant his lips on mine. I refrain from choking him out with his black tie as I push him away.

“No, thank you. No. There’s no kissing. This isn’t a date, Chad, and even if it were, it wouldn’t start with a make-out session.” I hold my hand to his firm chest until I’m sure he’ll keep his distance. “Tonight, I just need you to stay by my side. Don’t speak. Just… look pretty, okay?”

He smirks, creating creases around his left eye. “Being pretty is my specialty.”

Elton directs us southbound on Warden Avenue, toward the country club that’s hosting the event tonight. He’s making eye contact with me in the rear-view mirror every few seconds, and I feel like he’s an adorable protective grandpa. He wouldn’t be able to do much against this mass of muscle beside me, but aside from his forwardness, he seems harmless.

“Tell me something about yourself, Chad. What do you do for work?”

He squints his eyes, as if he’s recalling something from deep within his memory vault, or he’s debating if he wants to tell me the truth. “Right now, I’m doing security.”

You have got to be kidding me. Ashlyn may have been my friend since our freshman year of university, but things are looking bleak for her right now. She knows how critical my parents are and my checkered dating history.

I mutter some words I wish I could say to my so-called best friend, then turn to Chad. “This night is a big deal. So when I say just look pretty, I mean it.”

“Ashlyn didn’t tell me you were such a crank.” He rolls his eyes and turns to look out the rear passenger window.

All is well. It’s too late for a crash course to get to know each other, and I have a feeling anything he told me would waste space in my brain, anyway. I’ll just hope his skin-tight suit deters anyone from talking to him. Including my father. Even if I’ll hear all about it from my mother in a lengthy phone call tomorrow or from my father in the office. Probably both.

But when I work sixty hours a week, spend my time off with my dog and elderly neighbour, and evidently have friends who attract guys like Chad, when do they expect me to find someone? Part of me wants to stay single just to spite them.

We pull up to the country club, so Elton opens my door and waits for Chad to slide out behind me. I brush my dress flat, trying to smooth out the wrinkles from sitting the last thirty-five minutes, then glance over my shoulder to make sure my reluctant date is following.

I walk a few strides before I feel an arm slip around mine.

“Part of looking pretty.” Chad winks, and the playfulness on his face makes me relax with him a little.

“Thank you.”

That earns me a smile, which displays his yellowing teeth, covered in nicotine stains. And just like that, the moment is gone. I face forward and continue to my destination, trying not to curse my brother for being too busy with work to accompany me tonight. One of these days, I’m going to show up at an event with someone who can hold a conversation and look the part. Chad here is oh-for-two.

As soon as we enter, I spot my mom. She’s wearing her trademark red dress with crimson lipstick. She has one particular shade she’s worn to every event since I was a kid. I lock eyes with her and a smile makes it halfway across her face before she spots my date and her shoulders slump. Perfect.

But next event, the option for me to come alone won’t be presented. I’m still only half a person without a date. Not worthy of any accolades until there’s potential for me to take on someone else’s last name. I have a lot of sympathy for women who lived in the Middle Ages. My father still does.

Chad and I walk toward my parents, and I find myself clutching his arm until I see a familiar face. With a wide smile, I’m welcomed into an affectionate embrace.

“How are you? You look gorgeous.” My Aunt Zara holds me at arms’ length to look at my face. “No, you look ready to take on the world.”

“I didn’t know you were coming. You’ve just made my night. Are you sitting at our table?”

She nods her head. “Zach and I were last-minute seat fillers, so we’re across the table from you. If anyone”—she leans in to whisper—“and I mean anyone gives you a hard time tonight, you know where to find me.”

When I was young, Aunt Zara and my mom weren’t very close, but I spent so much time at my grandparents’, she was a staple of my childhood. Since then, she’s been an endless source of support. Having her here tonight makes it more tolerable.

I pull her in for another hug as Zach walks up behind her, so I greet him and introduce my silent date.

“Nice to meet you, Chad.” Zach holds out a hand.

Instead of shaking it, Chad stares at me as if he’s awaiting permission. For half a minute, I was hopeful this wouldn’t be so bad. But this buffoon has to make it seem like I dragged him here under threat of death. I give him an adamant, eyeball-bulging look that approves his silent request.

With that out of the way, I continue making the rounds, greeting important contacts and avoiding my father’s displeased stare.

But as I make my way toward the tables near the stage, I’m met by another stare, which doesn’t look displeased at all.