"What?" I demanded, registering his presence from behind my sunglasses. I was hoping we'd get into a fight, right here, and that our stupid rich neighbors would overhear us.
"We have to be at that gala in an hour, and here you are, getting drunk by the pool." Ellis shook his head.
"Oh, give it a rest," I said, standing up, "I'm not drunk. I'll get ready."
But I was a little drunk, and it took some focus to force myself to walk back towards the patio door. Ellis followed, carrying the whiskey bottle.
I walked to the bedroom, still in my ski clothes, and pulled them off, all $1500 worth of ugly Gore-Tex, and left them crumpled on the floor. I searched my closet for something suitable, and settled on a slinky black cocktail dress, next to my three other slinky black
cocktail dresses. I threw it on, pinned my hair up, and dashed some makeup on my face, all in the course of five minutes.
"There," I said, "I'm ready."
"Mia..."
"What? I'm ready."
"This is one of the most important events of the season, and you didn't even take ten minutes. I try my best to deal with you, I really do, but sometimes you act like a spoiled child. The least you can do is take a shower."
"Oh really," I sneered, "a spoiled child. How do you think I feel coming here? I don't know a single damn person here. I don't know how to ski, I barely know how to act at all these fancy dinners full of famous people. When you're not around all I do is sit here by the pool and drink."
"I know that, Mia. I've tried my best to introduce you to people. I've done everything in my power to make you feel comfortable here, but lately you've been throwing it all back in my face. I've been trying to understand, but sometimes I just can't."
I watched as the frustration began to grow in his eyes. And then he turned away, unable to even look at me, struggling to contain his emotions.
"Goddammit!" he finally bellowed, punching the wall next to him. I almost jumped out of my skin.
"And I'm trying to find your stepbrother," he said, his voice measured again, "The one person you do know. For whatever reason you can't even find him on your own. I don't even want to ask why."
I looked at myself blankly in the mirror, chastened. I didn't want to admit it, but Ellis was right. Instead of speaking my mind, actually talking to him, I'd been acting like a spoiled brat instead.
"Ellis, I'm sorry," I finally said. And I meant it. I reached out and touched his arm.
"Why don't you drive down to the Hilton, and I'll come join you after Ive prepared myself properly."
He nodded in agreement and then left. I went over to the window and watched as he walked to his Land Rover. He drove away, and then I put my hair down, wiped the makeup off, and started all over.
After I looked perfect and put-together for Ellis, I finally headed out the door. I got in my BMW and drove into town, an hour late, but in control of myself once again.
I slowly pulled up outside of the exclusive hotel. I spotted the red carpet unrolled for the gala, the gaggle of limousines in front of the building, the valets idling around waiting for someone to attend to, the bored photographers adjusting their equipment. I came to a stop for a brief second, then drove right past.
I decided to go in the back way, through the bar. I found an anonymous parking spot towards the back of the lot and started walking through the slushy parking lot in my heels. My phone buzzed with a message from Ellis.
Where are you?? Hurry please.
I picked up my pace, quickly smiling at the doorman as I ducked into the building. I had better get there before I ruined everything with Ellis.
The bar was dark and raucous, packed with people. Rich socialites were everywhere, still in their ski boots and getting wasted on expensive liquor. I started to push through the mob, hurrying for the entrance to the hotel. The whole room was charged with sex and money, like a time bomb ready to explode. And right in the middle of it all was my stepbrother!
He was leaning against the bar coolly, surveying the room like a lion looking over his domain. My heart jumped into my throat. He looked the same as he had when he left, just older, more muscular, his face tanned and weathered by years of Colorado skiing, and his tousled hair bleached by the sun. My heart began pounding wildly in my chest.
My phone buzzed again, compelling me to action. I kept walking, arriving next to Jackson. I grabbed his arm, pulling his attention away from something, or someone, across the room.
"Jackson!" I yelled, above the din of the crowd. I watched his eyes grow wide with surprise.
"Mia?"
"I've got to meet somebody, Im sorry I dont have any time to chat," I told him. "Call me!"
I rushed away from him, my body on fire, and disappeared into the crowd.
It immediately became quieter as I stepped into the hotel. The only sound other than the amiable banter of the desk assistant and the classical music tinkling over the PA was the sound of my heels clicking against the hardwood floor.