Stevie
thirty-six
HIGH SOCIETY PEOPLE really love their Christmas parties.
Hunter was invited to a ton on his family’s behalf this week, but he begged off all of them. Except this one. It’s at his father’s friend’s house. His father’s oldest friend, so he felt a deeper obligation to go to this one than any of the others.
Another huge estate. From the outside, it looks like one of those giant homes you only see in the movies, all red brick with multiple wings and vines growing up the facade, huge front doors, and a circular driveway.
Inside, the décor is very dark and elegant.
Dark wood furniture, leather couches, overstuffed velvet armchairs, Tiffany lamps, animal heads mounted on walls (I hope they aren’t real animals, but probably?), Persian rugs.
One huge room is a library that even the Beast from Beauty and the Beast would be impressed by.
Hunter and I walk around a bit after saying hello to the hosts. Stunning Christmas decorations cover every available surface. I’m in awe. Hunter just looks bored. His family estate has similar vibes but much more modern furnishings and décor.
Hunter’s dad and Celeste are supposedly already here, but we haven’t run into them yet. Maybe because they don’t think the library is as cool as I do.
“Ready to move on?” Hunter asks, looking very amused as I read the spines of the books on the shelves.
“I didn’t think libraries like this were real,” I tell him. I pull out a hardcover copy of The Great Gatsby. The cover is a gorgeous black and gold art deco design. I have an urge to steal it.
“Put that back,” Hunter says, like he can read my mind.
“Do you think this is a first edition?” I ask, running my fingers over the raised design.
“No. The first editions are locked in that bookcase over there.”
I stare at him in shock. “Oh my god, they really have first editions here?”
He chuckles. “Baby, you have no idea.”
An excited squeal bursts out of me. “Can I see them?”
He shrugs. “Sure. Come on.” I follow him to a bookcase with a glass door.
It’s locked like he said. I peer inside.
The first edition books are displayed prominently.
For Whom The Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway, Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton, To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf, and, yes, The Great Gatsby in its original dustcover with the iconic blue cover. I think I might faint.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “Becca would die if she saw these.”
“Why?”
“She’s an English major and obsessed with books.”
“You like books, too, clearly.”
“Yeah. I considered majoring in English but picked Communications instead.”
“I see.”
I turn to him. “Are you okay? You seem kind of, I dunno, out of it.”
“Do I?” He shrugs. “It’s ‘cause I hate these stuffy events. Thank god you’re with me.”
“Should we go find your dad and Celeste?”
He nods, looking resigned. “Yeah, might as well.”
The heart of the party is in what I can only describe as a ballroom.
The floor is checkered black and white marble and there’s a humongous chandelier in the middle of the ceiling.
Arched windows overlook sprawling gardens.
Multiple Christmas trees decorated in gold and silver ornaments are placed throughout the space.
A violin quartet in the corner of the room plays Christmas melodies.
I guess that’s just how rich people do holiday parties.
Thank god I wore a gown to this thing, because everyone is dressed up.
Some women are in cocktail dresses, but most are wearing gowns like me.
I’m wearing the same black dress Hunter gifted me when we attended his uncle’s art gallery opening.
Hunter is wearing a black suit with a silver tie.
Most of the guests are seated at round tables while some stand around with drinks in their hands, talking while servers walk around with trays of hors d’oeuvres. How can a holiday party be this fancy? It’s not even Christmas Eve!
I look up at the ceiling and the various doorways.
“What are you looking at?” Hunter asks, following my gaze.
“Just trying to see if there’s any mistletoe around here.”
He grins. “If you want a kiss, just ask. You don’t have to trap me under mistletoe.”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe I want to. I’ve never been kissed under mistletoe before.”
“Okay.” His eyes gleam. “Noted.”
As I’m looking around, I notice someone waving at us. It’s Celeste, seated next to Hunter’s dad at one of the tables.
“Your parents!” I say, taking Hunter’s hand. Then I realize I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think he thinks of Celeste as a parent, and he probably never will. Although he doesn’t say anything, his expression is flat as we walk over.
Celeste rises from her seat at our approach. She looks beautiful as usual, her blonde hair styled in a sleek updo, makeup flawless. She’s wearing an ivory gown with silver accents and a long sleeve white fur bolero. I hug her and tell her how gorgeous she looks.
“So do you, Stevie.”
She hugs Hunter next while I say hello to Hunter’s dad. He shakes my hand like he usually does.
I take a seat next to Celeste and Hunter sits beside me, as far from his dad as can be. But they did do that back thumping greeting men do before he sat down.
A server comes by and asks if I’d like some champagne, but I decline and ask for a lemonade. I really am never drinking again after that last time. Just thinking about it makes me queasy.
“How have you been, Stevie?” Celeste asks. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make it tonight. Are you going home for Christmas?”
“Yes, I’m driving out there Christmas Eve morning. It’s only an hour and a half from here.”
“You must be excited.”
“I am, honestly. I miss my mom, even though I saw her during Thanksgiving break.”
“Is it just the two of you?”
“Yes. My dad left when I was young.”
She makes a sympathetic face. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “I’m over it.” I don’t think that’s true, but I say it more for her sake than mine. And I really don’t want to talk about my family life. She seems to take the hint.
“It’s too bad you won’t be here for my Christmas Eve party,” she says.
“I bet it’ll be spectacular.”
She smiles. “I have some surprises planned.”
“The real Santa will make an appearance?”
Laughing, she takes a sip of champagne. “I’ll try. He might have a pretty busy night though.”
“True. We’ll understand if he can’t make it.”
“Right.” She winks, raising her champagne flute and tapping it against the lemonade in my hand. She’s like the older sister I never had. I turn to Hunter, not wanting him to feel left out. He’s scrolling on his phone, looking even more bored than when we first got to the party.
“You’re hating this, aren’t you?”
He gives me a rueful smile. “Don’t worry about me. Chat with Celeste. I’ll just sit here counting down the minutes until we can leave.”
I frown. “I don’t want you to be miserable.”
“I’m not miserable. I’m used to these things. Trust me.” He grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze.
A few minutes later dinner is served, and we all busy ourselves with eating. The food is some of the best I’ve ever eaten: scallop carpaccio, potatoes au gratin, red wine-braised duck legs, seasonal roasted vegetables, and herb-crusted rack of lamb.
After eating my fill, I turn to Hunter and whisper, “I could really get used to rich people food.”
He covers his face with one hand and laughs, then leans in and whispers back, “Stick with me, then.”
About an hour into the party, the violin quartet is replaced by a lively band playing dance hits. People get up to dance and I can’t resist tapping my foot to the beat and swaying in my seat.
Hunter gets up and gives me his hand. “Let’s go, dancing queen.”
I beam as I take his hand and rise, letting him lead me to the dance floor.
We dance to disco and pop hits, and even when my feet start hurting, I don’t want to stop.
Hunter looks happy as he twirls me around and it hits me how much I love to see him smile, especially since it rarely happens when his dad is around.
I loop my arms around his neck and give him a quick kiss on the lips.
He looks taken aback for a second. “Let’s go back to the library. I want to bend you over a table and fuck you from behind,” he whispers in my ear.
I shake my finger at him. “Do you want Santa to put you on the naughty list?”
He bursts out laughing, then spins me around and pulls me flush against his body. “Fuck Santa.”
We both laugh, and I think laughing with him is maybe my favorite thing in the world.
Back at our table, Celeste is sitting by herself, and though she smiles when she sees us, there is a hint of sadness in her eyes.
Hunter moves toward her and extends his hand. “Will you dance with me?” he asks her.
Celeste’s eyes widen. She gives Hunter a warm smile and takes his hand.
Hunter winks at me and whisks Celeste away.
Warmth blooms in my chest as I watch them walk toward the dance floor.
I want them to have a good relationship.
I wonder where Hunter’s dad is, but secretly, I love that he’s not around.
He doesn’t have to say anything or even do anything, but dark energy radiates off him in waves. It gives me the creeps.
A server comes and replaces my empty lemonade glass with a full one.
“Would you like some eggnog?” he asks.
I wrinkle my nose. “No, thank you.”
He smiles like he agrees that eggnog isn’t the best. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
“I will, thank you.”
Sipping on my lemonade, I’m content observing the other guests.
The women look so glamorous with their gowns but also their sparkling jewelry – dangling earrings and statement necklaces that probably cost thousands of dollars.
It puts the jewelry I make to shame, but I’m still proud of my designs.
It blows my mind that Hunter has been around this kind of extravagance and wealth his entire life.
He probably doesn’t even notice any of it… or give a fuck.
Celeste and Hunter return from the dance floor a few minutes later. Celeste has a big smile on her face, but Hunter looks ashen.
“Your boyfriend is an amazing dancer, Stevie,” Celeste says as she sits back down, but my gaze is on Hunter. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, and he doesn’t even look at me as he takes his seat.
I put my hand on his thigh. “Is everything okay?”
“Peachy,” he says, reaching for his Coke and taking a sip. He still won’t look at me. His eyes are scanning the room, looking for someone, and his jaw is clenched. He’s pissed, but I don’t think he’ll tell me why. Not now, anyway.
I turn to Celeste. “What a fun party.”
“Isn’t it?” she agrees. “I’m thinking of all the ways I’ll have to try and outdo it.” Her eyes twinkle. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“Your diabolical plans are safe with me.”
She laughs and adjusts her bolero jacket. I wonder that she hasn’t taken it off, but it’s probably part of her ensemble. She notices me eyeing it and says, “It’s faux fur, I promise. I would never wear real fur.”
“Oh! I wasn’t judging you or anything. I wasn’t even thinking of that.”
She pats my arm. “I would take it off, but my cast doesn’t exactly go with this dress.”
“Your cast?”
Nodding, she moves the sleeve of her jacket to show me. “I fell and broke my arm a few days ago.”
I stare at her arm in the cast, feeling very dumb. How did I not notice that her right arm has been tucked against her body this whole time?
“I can’t believe I didn’t realize that,” I tell her. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
She shakes her head. “I took pain meds.”
I glance at Hunter, wondering if Celeste’s broken arm has something to do with how quickly his mood changed.
He must’ve noticed it when they were dancing together.
He spares me a look then goes back to scrolling on his phone, his face blank.
I’m about to say something when he abruptly gets up and walks away.
Unsure what to do, I check the notifications on my phone. My mom has texted me about Christmas Eve dinner and what she’ll be making. I suddenly miss her fiercely and wish I was with her. Life is so much simpler with her.
“I tripped on the rug and fell awkwardly on my arm,” Celeste says, though I didn’t ask.
“Oh.”
“It was just one of those things.”
I nod. “I’ve never broken a bone before.”
She laughs. “I don’t recommend it.”
Deciding I shouldn’t go looking for Hunter, I tell Celeste about the first editions I saw in the library. I’d rather think about that than the weird energy that’s taken over our table.