5. The Invitation
five
Friday rolled around again, and even though I had been under the impression that everything was fine at work, something happened that signaled otherwise. Right before an important meeting that had been scheduled ten days ago, my boss called me in my office.
“Ella, listen, ah—I need the quarterly report in an hour. Can you do that for me?”
“Um, sure? But don’t we have to be at Mr. Engelbert’s office in ten minutes?”
“Yeah, no. I can do that. Johnson’s attending.”
“Y—You don’t need me there anymore?”
“That’s fine. Just… finalize that report, will ya?”
“Okay,” I whispered.
As soon as we hung up, the thought that everyone must have been still upset about me missing Mr. Engelbert’s toast plagued my mind.
Really?I thought to myself as I launched the report sheet. Although I understood the politics behind everything that went on at the office, I was still a little surprised that Mr. Engelbert would be so petty. Or perhaps it was my boss, threatened by the good impression I was leaving everyone within the division.
Discouraged, I began updating the report that I had started compiling a week ago. Even though I felt like going over to my boss’ office and flipping him the bird, I took a deep breath and tried to resist the urge. So what if I slipped once? I could still turn it around and give him my best, most elaborate report yet.
Damn Jude and his revolting intoxication with power. He did this, I thought. He had the ability to step into any good situation and turn it ugly. His disillusionment about being broken up with by me was growing more and more toxic, even worse than the nightmare that was our relationship.
What was I thinking?I angrily typed across the keyboard, remembering all the red flags I had ignored at the beginning. Just because he was handsome and ambitious, I consciously overlooked a handful of warning signs that should have made me run for the hills.
Well… I’m not going to make that mistake again,I decided. The next time I felt like I was being swept off my feet, I needed to examine the prospects more thoroughly, paying attention to every detail that concealed itself behind the infatuation of early courtship.
Powering through the rest of my time at the office, I let out a sigh of relief when I was finished with my last task for the day. As I gathered my belongings, I looked at the phone screen and saw the five messages from Jude that I had been ignoring. In the office bathroom, I texted my best friend to see if he wanted to meet.
Lexi, what are you up to?
Hey. Just stepping into my last meeting for the day. Wanna do something?
Yeah. Jude’s losing it, he’s being impossible, and if I don’t vent about it and drink myself numb… I just might lose it, too.
No need to terrorize me. In or out?
No, definitely in. I don’t feel like braving the Friday night frenzy of every bar in town.
Gotcha. I’m bringing the wine.
Guess that leaves me with the snacks. It’s your funeral!
Smother me with carbs. I don’t care.
Uh, interesting?
I’m saving the despair till we’re face to face.
Misery loves company irl, haha!
See ya, babe.
See yah!
I parked my car under my building and walked a couple of blocks to the nearest grocery store. My eyes scanned every comfort food they carried, wishing I could buy it all.
Easy, Ella. Just because Jude’s being an asshole doesn’t mean that he gets to make you fat, too. My mind attempted to pull the brakes on my spree. And it worked. I walked out of there with a large bag of chips, a pack of microwave popcorn, a box of salted grissini, four candy bars, and two ice cream sandwiches. From my initial twenty-item wish list… that was considered a good compromise.
“So? What did Mr. Wall Street do now?” Alex asked as he lounged on my couch with his feet up on the coffee table, biting into a grissini.
Pouring the wine, I sighed. “Remember the scene from the wedding?”
“How could I forget?”
“He’s been texting me. Like… non-stop.”
“Why don’t you just block him?”
“And provoke him? You know he’ll just show up here or worse… the office.”
Savoring the salt and smacking his lips, Alex rolled his eyes, fixing them on the ceiling. “But, like… what happened? Aren’t you curious? It’s been six months, and for the past three, he’d left you alone, hadn’t he?”
“He did, yes,” I quickly nodded as I handed him the glass. “But it’s something about him making it big at work or something?”
“What’s that got to do with you?”
“He’s so insecure, Lexi.” I sat down across from him, crossing my legs and scratching my head under the messy bun. “I bet he thinks that his new title and the money he’s making is gonna somehow make him… more appealing?”
He sipped the one, then reached for another breadstick. “I remember vividly why you broke up.”
“And it had nothing to do with that, I know.” I shrugged. “But he’s in denial. It’s obvious, right?”
“Well,” he twisted his lips sideways as if in contemplation, “I guess it is easier to believe that it’s something you can change and not your shitty personality.”
“C’mon, that’s harsh. He doesn’t have a shitty personality. He just needs some… therapy or something.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “Right, I mean, how hard would it be to convince a total narcissist that he needs help.”
“Lexi!”
“Please,” he enunciated. “I watched that guy abuse you for months and tried to say it in all the subtle ways? Now that you’re over him, and I know that this might bite me in the ass if you do get back together—”
“We won’t,” I reassured him.
“Good. Because you deserve better than that.” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, maybe not hotter,” he smirked and stifled a giggle, “but definitely better.”
“Now I can guiltlessly tear you to bits about your latest fuck up with James!” As I raised my hand with a chip, ready to toss it at him, the doorbell rang, prompting us both to look.
“I’m technically in my pajamas. Who did you invite?” Alex stared at me.
“Nobody!” Placing down my glass and the bag of chips, I got off the chair and slowly walked toward the door. Turning to Alex, I mouthed with wide eyes, “Jude?”
“Oh, fuck. Don’t say!” he whispered.
Lifting myself up on the tips of my toes, I looked through the peephole and saw a teenager in a baseball hat. Baffled, I opened the door.
“Good evening. Are you Ms. Boraine?”
“Yeah?” my eyes wandered down to the wrapped package in his hands. “Is this for me?”
“Yes. Will you please sign here?”
Turning around, I slowly walked back into the living room with the anonymous parcel in my hands. The wrapping paper was an elegant glossy black, with a well-crafted bow in the corner.
Alex instantly grinned, leaning forward and rubbing his palms together. “Oh, mystery!”
“Weren’t you about to tell me about what happened with Jimmy?” I teased.
“No, no.” He flailed both hands in the air, waving it off as he approached. “That can wait. Open it! I need this action as much as you do.”
Tittering, I leaned over and placed the box on the coffee table, carefully unwrapping it. As I removed the luxurious lid, my confusion spiked as I looked down at a solitary glass nestled in a bed of black silk. When I picked it up and examined it, I saw the letters ‘ERB’ engraved on the bottom.
Alex suddenly gasped, his eyes wider than ever. “La fêtarde!”
“La what?” I slightly dangled my hand as my fingers clasped the stem.
“Careful!” he hissed. “You don’t even know what this is, do you?”
“It’s a single empty glass, not even a set,” I mocked. “Is this a prank or like a social media challenge or something?”
As if in slow motion, Alex extended his hands and cradled the glass, softly pulling it from my hand. “This is a vintage crystal champagne flute from the la fêtarde luxury set?” he explained. The empty, dumbfounded stare in my eyes prompted him to nervously straighten up, closely examining the piece. “I read an article about these once,” he murmured in awe. “This is a collectible! It must be worth a fortune.” He then looked up at me. “And to think that someone had the heart to engrave your initials on it,” he said with near disgust. “Must be a crazy person.”
“Jude,” I hissed.
He chuckled, carefully putting the glass back in its cradle. “Honey, he’d have to sublet his apartment and become homeless to afford this.”
“Really?” Confused, I stared back down at the package.
Suddenly frantic, Alex rushed toward the couch, picking up his phone. “Let’s just… gimme a sec.” He began typing, and his eyes grew wider. Grinning, he came over and held up the screen to my eyes. “Huh?”
My eyes remained fixed on the digits on the web page in front of me. In disbelief, my jaw dropped. “Ten. Thousand. Dollars?” I recited, still unable to process the information.
Alex slowly shook his head, whispering, “I don’t think this is from Jude, El. I really don’t.”
Looking back down, I realized that what I had thought was protective foam stuffing rolled up inside was actually a piece of paper. Sliding in my finger, I pulled it out. “It’s a card!” I slowly unfolded it, reading. “Lucid club invites you to the grand opening. Saturday, nine p.m.”
There was an address but no signature.
“Lucid? Lucid… why do I know this name?” Alex began snapping his fingers repetitively.
“Of course, you’d know it. You write for an awesome lifestyle portal. Why did I get this?”
“I really don’t know—”
“I mean, I’m not cool—”
He shook his head, “You’re so not.”
“I don’t get invited to club openings—”
“You—Never,” he mumbled.
“If anything, you drag me to those things!”
“Wait, hold on,” he leaned over to look at the card. “Is there a plus one?”
I dropped my shoulders, giving him an apologetic look. “No?”
“Damn it!”
“I know!” I raised my voice.
“Surreal. It’s like the universe is upside down right now.”
“Right?”
“I don’t get it.”
“I’m not going to this.” I dropped the card onto the table and picked up my glass.
“Excuse me?”
“What?” I went back to sit in my chair, pulling up my legs to cross them.
“You cannot not go.” He put his hands up in the air.
“Why? This is clearly a mistake.”
“Your initials on a ten-thousand-dollar antique? That would be the most expensive mistake in invitation history!”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “You can take it. I don’t care.” I stared inside my glass, watching the red beverage seep to my lips.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? It’s the weekend. You have nothing planned. You’re bummed about Jude and what he did to your job, right?”
“So?”
“So, uh—” He let out a frustrated sigh, throwing his weight down on the couch. “Go! Get drunk… pick up a dude… pretend you’re someone else. Whatever, Ella! Do you know how many people would kill to go to that thing?”
Tilting my head, I shot him a berating glare. “I thought you couldn’t remember what it was.”
“I don’t,” he nodded in confirmation. “But now that I think about it? I must’ve heard of it when they announced that a couple of billionaires were teaming up for a new entertainment venture.”
Deeply exhaling, I stared at my friend as he picked up his glass. “I’m just worried it’s an ambush and that I’d find Jude there.”
“Jude schmude!” He lifted up the glass to his lips, staring at me from over the rim. “If you don’t use this invitation, then I most definitely will.”