The Arrangement

1 | Mr. Cavanaugh

Tracy was ready to leave the party before she'd arrived. While getting dressed in her bedroom, she ruminated over the events leading to her imminent torture.

Her cousin, Jasmine, had been invited to a lounge party with her boyfriend, Tom. The party was a networking opportunity to socialize with some of NYC's finest. While Tracy supported her cousin's meteoric rise as a prominent paralegal in the city, she didn't understand why she had to go.

"Tracy, what the hell are you wearing?" Jasmine asked as Tracy entered the living room. "The Uber's gonna be here in ten minutes."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Tracy asked, looking herself over.

"We're going to a party, not a funeral." Tracy didn't understand what was so horrid about her black turtleneck, black slacks, and loafers, but Jasmine's seeming contempt was enough for her to change back into her pajamas.

"Then maybe I shouldn't go."

"Nice try, but you're going. You promised." Compliance under insurmountable peer pressure and guilt-tripping was more like it. "C'mon," Jasmine said leading Tracy to her bedroom.

Jasmine frantically sifted through her closet as Tracy sat on her bed silently hoping nothing suited her. "What about this?" Jasmine asked holding a sapphire cocktail dress. Tracy shook her head. "This?" she asked again holding an A-line dress. Tracy grimaced. Jasmine sighed before pulling out a black bodycon dress and a dark teal jumpsuit. "Okay, you've gotta pick one. I think the dress would look great on you."

"But, that's a bodycon dress," Tracy said apprehensively.

"So?"

"So, I don't have enough body for the dress to con."

"Oh, please," Jasmine said rolling her eyes. "You've got a cute figure. Plus, you're tall. You'll look like a model."

Tracy had always envied Jasmine's waspish waist and full hips and thighs since they were teens which was just one of the many reasons she avoided wearing dresses. Standing next to her curvy cousin, she'd look like an upside-down mop in a bodycon dress.

"I'm not wearing it," Tracy declared.

"Jumpsuit it is," Jasmine said tossing the jumpsuit to Tracy. Tracy begrudgingly removed the hanger from the jumpsuit to change. "And, please take your hair outta that Mary Poppins bun!"

***

An hour into the party, Tracy held the champagne flute with a single layer of lip balm on the rim, unable to appreciate its bitter taste. She stood silent strategizing her escape to the ladies' room to recharge her already emptied social battery.

Since her arrival, she'd met Jasmine's and Tom's various associates and other strangers whose names she'd already forgotten. She'd reduced herself to Jasmine's shadow, following her wherever she went while offering nothing more socially than a polite greeting, a manufactured smile, and intuitive chuckles during conversations when it seemed expected despite not getting the humor. It was as if everyone there spoke a different language. Tom and Jasmine, however, were quite fluent and carried themselves with a level of poise and charisma Tracy admired and envied.

The strangers eventually dispersed leaving Tracy alone with Jasmine and Tom, the way she preferred, but the couple's sights were soon set on the entrance as a group of three entered.

"Fashionably late as always," Tom joked as he and Jasmine observed. Tracy followed their eyes to see the striking trio—two men and one woman—walking from the entrance towards the party.

The brooding, burly man on the far left was easily the tallest in the room. The man in the center leading the trio was less brooding and tall but strikingly handsome with a svelte physique adorned with a well-tailored, wine-colored suit. The femme fatale to the dashing man's right wore an Aegean blue cocktail dress matching her siren-like eyes.