Intro: Vanessa’s Secret
Wright Entertainment Group’s Costume Ball
October 2005
What the hell am I doing here? And why the fuck am I talking to myself? Better yet, why the fuck am I talking to myself in my head?
Maybe because there’s no one in this party worth talking to. Not that I can see.
Lifting my fourth glass of champagne to my lips, I scan the room for the millionth time. The overdressed ‘princess’ to my left glares at me and I manage to salute her with my crystal flute and muster the nicest grin I could come up with in such short notice. She rolls her eyes at me for the fourth time tonight and I chuckle. Doesn’t she know that princesses don’t roll their eyes? Her fat, balding husband should give her a clue “ that’s if he can keep his eyes off of me long enough to clue her in.
Losers. All of them, wasteful, wanton losers.
And that alone reminds me what I’m doing here, why I’m standing by the bar endlessly sipping on champagne, being glared at by the significant others of the men in this room. I’ve been standing in this spot for a good hour now and if it wasn’t physically exhausting to move, I would. The bartender winks at me from behind the bar “ again “ and I give him a grin to match the one I gave the so-called princess. Doesn’t he see that I’m not interested? Right now he’s serving exactly one purpose only and that’s to serve me alcohol. He’s just another loser like the rest.
The room is full of them, losers, who don’t know what’s coming. They don’t know it now but they will Monday.
First thing Monday morning when they walk into hell and realize they had been gawking at their new boss two night prior at WEG’s Costume Ball “ in a very rude manner, I might add. When they realize they have been under surveillance of sorts.
I can’t wait to see the look on their faces.
The look of pure mortification.
I’m ecstatic about that part of my new life, my new job.
Can you imagine the scandal? The woman with angel wings, straight out of Victoria’s Secret’s warehouse and barely anything else on. was now the new Public Relations Director of Wright Entertainment Group. The new boss.
I’m the bitch they’ve been hearing about for the past week. And I’m going to be their biggest nightmare.
Although I may seem to be relishing the thought, I really am not. I don’t want to be here. I don’t really want to clean up snotty artists’ images. But I was challenged, and I never turn down a challenge. I’ve built my entire career on challenges, and nothing is going to change that.
Nothing.
Scanning the room yet again, I can see at least four employees who are in for an even bigger surprise come Monday. Oh yes, I am taking names. One of them is sitting across Joanna Levesque “ I believe is her name “ although the world has come to know her as Jojo. Her PR Rep, my new employee, is laughing and living it up with her and I guess a few of her friends. I can clearly see why I’m here as I look at them, and that’s the fact that Miss Jojo has been nursing a glass of wine.
The third one in an hour, if I may add.
She’s a sixteen-year-old, star who is obviously not being taken care of publicly. I could care less what that kid does on her off time “ she can get shit-faced at home behind closed doors “ but when she’s at functions with paparazzi all over the place, alcohol is not an option. She recently transferred into Johnny Wright’s management and that means she’s transferred her image to me. Underage drinking while in my jurisdiction is a lose-lose situation, and she’s in for a rude awakening. I’m making another mental note and facial inscription of her assigned Public Relations Representative before turning my line of vision across the room. As far as I’m concerned he’s fired, along with the wannabe Barbie doll in Nick Carter’s arms on the dance floor. The only public relations matter she is discussing with Nick has included his hands on her ass and her tits in his face. At Wright Entertainment Group, we don’t fraternize with the mortgage payers.
God, they have no idea who their new boss is.
The bartender places another glass next to my now empty champagne one, with another wink. As if.
“You can keep putting drinks on the bar for me, sweetie, but what you’ve got on your mind isn’t happening,” I say to him with a big smile on my face. The bastard has the nerve to roll his eyes like the little bitch that he is, before pointing across the room.
“This isn’t from me,” he says with a shrug. “And what makes you think I have something on my mind?”
“Cause it’s written all over your face, honey,” I shrug back, picking up the drink and swirling it in my hand.
“Do you want to do something about it?” he asks seductively and I do have to admit to myself that he is kind of cute, if you like the California surfer boys’ look. Which I don’t. His skin looked like my leather briefcase. Thanks but no thanks.
“Not a chance,” I say nonchalantly. “What is this anyway?” I ask, finally lifting the glass to my lips.
“Sex on the beach,” he says and I don’t miss the attitude he gives me. Bastard. If only I could fire his ass, too.
“Who was corny enough to have ordered this for me?” I ask, completely ignoring the fact that he’s pointing somewhere behind me. The wings attached to my back are serving their purpose but they’re still a pain in the ass to maneuver around in.
“Lifeguard,” he says pointing behind me again then disappearing behind the bar briefly. “Listen, you’ve been blocking my view of all the other hot celebrities for the past hour. Why don’t you move it along?”
“What’s the matter, Hon? Not enjoying my company?” I ask mockingly, knowing he’s just mad because he realizes he’s not getting any from me tonight. Or any other night. “And believe me, I am NOT any kind of celebrity. Or a wannabe, like yourself either.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a fucking bitch?” he asked without so much as a blink, actually making me have an ounce more respect for him which is more than he had ten seconds ago. If he wasn’t a loser bartender with an attitude problem, spending his days at the beach and his nights at the bar, I might have given him a chance after that comment. Unfortunately, the only attitude problems I deal with are my own. Others can check their attitudes at the door when dealing with me “ another thing I intend to make clear on Monday.
“I’ve been called worse, sweetie. But thanks for the compliment anyway,” I say with a grin, before turning to find the moronic person that ordered a drink for me.
I sip on my drink and slowly scan the room but I don’t see a lifeguard. What I do sense is a person standing next to me, definitely a male, which makes me roll my eyes in anticipation to which one of my clueless employees it is trying to hit on me now. But I’m not annoyed enough to turn towards the voice. The wings on my back cover both my side views and I’m thankful for that.
“I see you’re enjoying the drink. Does that mean you’re accepting my offer?” Ahh, it’s the corny lifeguard, getting right to the point.
“Does ordering a drink for a woman at an open bar, make you feel like the man?” I ask as I don’t bother turning towards him. I know who he is, I recognize his voice from the interviews I’ve been listening to for the past week. His voice sounds a bit hoarse, which means he’s had quite a few drinks and I’m making yet another mental note of that fact. I stand there casually sipping my drink and continuing to add to my list of people to get rid of on Monday. I can’t see him because of the wings but I can tell that he’s standing there just as cool and collected as I am and I can respect that.
“I’ll make sure to buy out the bar if you prefer,” he says with a light chuckle, making me smile behind the glass that’s hovering at my lips.
“Well. I wouldn’t want you to do that,” I say casually. “Because I wouldn’t want you to think you’ve got a chance in hell with me, Justin. Why don’t you go get another angel a free drink? I can get my own, but thanks for trying.” This time I turn slowly toward him, a smile adorning my face.
“So you do know who I am?” he asks with a grim face. While he’s used to impressing people with his charm, it’s not working and I can tell he’s a little taken aback, but I could care less. I read all about him and heard even more, proving to me that musicians are creeps.
Oh, I know who he is. He’s part of the reason I’m here in Los Angeles, part of the reason I’ve rearranged my entire life. I look at him over the rim of my glass as I take one last sip of my free drink before placing the empty glass in his right hand. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I guess you can say that,” he says just as casually followed by a shrug before he places the glass on a nearby table. He may be hitting on me, but he’s not falling over backwards trying like the rest of the losers tonight. And if I didn’t already have no respect for him I would let him believe he’s got a chance. But the truth of the matter was no one had yet to challenge me enough to get me interested at all. “I’m sorry but if I’d met you before, I’m sure you had a lot more clothes on and I wouldn’t have recognized you,” he says this with yet another wink “ why do men insist on doing that? It doesn’t do a single thing for me. I let out an exaggerated breath out of boredom.
“Am I bothering you?” he asks, and I get a glimpse of his drunken eyes when he looks down at me, which makes me shrug.
“Just boring me,” I say honestly. He could have come up with something better than to hit on me by getting me a drink from an open bar. Men!
I must’ve really pissed him off because he let loose. “Well excuse me, bitch! I wouldn’t want to bore you to death,” he snaps and is even more surprised when I just stand there, with no reaction, the same bored expression on my face. “I just thought I’d help you out tonight. Clearly you’ve been bored all fucking night, with that attitude you’re sporting. Way to be sociable at a party.”
“Well, at last someone is paying attention to me instead of my assets,” I say glancing down at my chest before mocking him with one of his winks. Shouldn’t he be recording somewhere? What is he doing here? Hitting on part of his management? I mean he doesn’t know who I am, but still. “I was just calling it a night when you interrupted me. The free drink from the open bar was a good try, but thanks anyway. Wish you luck on finding another angel to take to your beach, but make sure there’s no cameras around, honey!”
“What?” he asks confused. I don’t bother answering and turn slowly toward the exit. I can feel his eyes on me along with half of the male species in the room as I slowly walk toward the exit, my hips swaying to give them a little extra something to drool over. Removing the wings from my back, I drop them by the coat check. I have no use for them anymore and shake my head when the lady at the coat check tells me I’ve dropped my wings. Does she really think I don’t know that? The damn things weight at least ten pounds, moron! I grab my long trench coat from her, slipping it on and walking towards the door without another word. I’m done with this night; I’m ready to get to work.
I glance behind me toward the hotel’s grand ballroom, my wings lying on the entrance floor. I can’t help but smile at Mr. Timberlake as I turn and exit the hotel.
I was never an angel anyway; quite opposite in fact, I’m the devil in disguise.
LoveStoned by Lynn
Story Notes:
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