ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ

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𝘙𝘏𝘠𝘚 𝘔𝘖𝘖𝘙𝘌

I LOOK AT MY REFLECTION in my bathroom mirror. My eyes constantly dropping to the tattoo above my hip. The tattoo that had Wren's full attention a few days ago. My tattoo that had Wren's full attention.

𝘬 𝘪 𝘴 𝘴 𝘩 𝘦 𝘳 𝘦

I was still in high school, my friend wanted to be a tattoo artist and I wasn't allowed to have one. So obviously I had to get it. I chose the first two things that appealed to me and that was woman and the other was what I liked woman to do. The rest is history.

After putting on my suit, I shoot Maxon a quick text.

𝙢𝙚: 𝙞 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚
𝙢𝙖𝙭: ?
𝙢𝙚: 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜
𝙢𝙖𝙭: 𝙠 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙣
𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙛𝙪𝙣
𝙢𝙚: 𝙣𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙨

I wasn't going to have any fun.

__________

I hand the cab driver money; hesitantly, and fix my cuff links. The venue is a large party hall with gold and marble furnishings. When I walk in, the first thing I notice is how many faces I don't know. I've been to events before, but none as big as this.

Plenty of people seem to recognize me, they smile or nod. But my attention is no longer on the crowds of unfamiliar faces. Instead a woman in a blood red dress refuses to release my curiosity.

She's standing in the corner, a man talking to her, her face is blank, unimpressed. Her heels are black, and tall, though not taking away from her long legs, one of them peeking out of a thigh slit. My mouth feels dry as I grab a flute of champagne walking by.

I approach Wren without a stutter in my step.

When I reach her, I step into line beside her. A man with large glasses and a twisty mustache is explaining something while waving his hands in the air. But he stops and reaches a hand out to me.

"Ah. You must be Rhys Moore. Bernard Villa. It's nice to meet you." He shakes my hand and I spot colorful chunky rings on his fingers.

I nod and look toward Wren, who's refusing to look at me. She's been avoiding me like the plague ever since our...encounter with the coffee.

"Well I was just telling your lovely partner here, that I would love for you both to come into the studio and have me capture a couple pictures of the two of you." At my confused silence, Bernard explains further. "I have a human anatomy photography column in the New York magazine that promotes not only my abstract work, but also the models motives and achievements."

A naked photo shoot promoting realtor contracts? Doesn't seem like something anybody would read.

"I just spoke to Mr. Martin minutes prior to me speaking to you, and he was all for it. 'Showcasing young entrepreneurs and how they got there', I think it's a wonderful idea, especially to have the two people who created this contract on the front page." He looks hopeful.

"With all due respect-"

"I, for one, would immediately enter this partnership with your company." Bernard is laying it on thick.

"As I said earlier, we'll have to get back to you." Wren's voice sounds chipped and agitated.

"What the lady said." I give Bernard another handshake before he saunters off.

I lean on the wall when Bernard is out of sight. Wren follows my lead and leans against the wall. When she does, the smell of honey and lavender clouds my senses.

I sip my champagne as more people start to socialize on, what is supposed to be a dance floor. I'm surprised by some of the music choices that are playing faintly in the background. Some older woman have created some sort of dance circle at the side of the room.

__________

After a few more champagne flutes, the banquet has turned into a night club for middle aged rich people. Somehow the lights were dimmed and the music was turned up. More then once i've seen a company CEO break dance in the middle of the dance floor. And here I was thinking this was a boring work event.

Wren hasn't left my side the whole night, and I haven't left hers. During the night, Bernard had pestered us into accepting his offer.

I check the time on my watch when a firm hand is placed on my shoulder and pushes me into someone else. I look down at the person I smashed into, Wren. Then I look at the hand who pushed us together, Fernando. A very drunk Fernando.

"Dance. Dance. I've never seen such young people smile as little as you two do. Dance." He pushes us onto the dance floor just when a slow song comes on.

The husbands and wives of different companies match up and start to move slowly next to us. I grip Wren's waist and she snakes her hands up to my neck. Besides how weirdly intimate the position feels, her face is blank.

"We need to leave. And we need to get Mr. Martin out of here before he ruins the contract before it even starts." Wren looks up at me, her eyes a dark mint color.

"I agree." The other couples dip their partner, so I do the same. A small gasp leaves her mouth as I do.

When I pull her up to meet my chest, her eyes are wild, unlike i've ever seen them before. It's oddly satisfying to know i'm the one that did that.

My eyes catch onto a round figure running around the crowd. Fernando. I motion to him and Wren nods. Then in an action as smooth as silk, we move across the dance floor. I spin and twirl her as she uses me as a portable barrier between her and other people.

Once we make it to Fernando, we let go of each other. And i'm suddenly very cold and my hands itch to trace the dip of Wren's waist again. But I refrain myself.

"Mr. Martin, I think it's time for all of us to call it a night." Wren speaks to him like he's a child.

But he listens like a good one. He wobbles toward the exit and we follow. Once we're outside, Fernando trips and lands on one of the steps. Luckily we're the only ones out here.

"Did you bring your car?" Wren asks me while looking at Fernando with disgust.

"No. I took a cab. I don't trust valet." It's true.

She makes a sound that sounds like a curse and I know she also took a cab. I crouch down to talk to Fernando. "What car do you drive?"

"A jellyfish." Cab it is.

____________________