William parked his car at the edge of the large parking lot. Alone in the parking lot, with an air of satisfaction, he practiced his line. Paced back and forth through the length of the parking lot, he unconsciously noted the models driven by personalities inside the famous Archer mansion. Numbers ran through his head.
He was still an insignificant speck of dust, a faraway star they would notice. As soon as he was gone, the door to his existence closed. This mood that suddenly caught up to him made William agitated; he was better than this. Nevertheless, it made him question this existence. He’s working hard to change that sordid destiny. Soon, he will be on the lips of the world.
He walked out of the parking lot, the huge house a stone's throw away. Its lights placed strategically around the mansion sparkled like a thousand dying suns dispersing the house's dark past. At night, the house was magnificent. Its architectural prowess loomed like a fantasy castle, not the kind that a Cinderella would live in but a Rapunzel would. An enormous fountain with a statue stood near the entrance to the makeshift hall where the party was being held. At the entrance, a guard asked for his invitation card before ushering him inside.
Chattering and trays with flute-glass champagne floated about on fingertips. The makeshift hall was softly carpeted, with exquisitely clean white walls and low-hanging chandeliers. Guests milled around in groups with essence and guarded laughs, discussing events. Everyone dressed exquisitely; in their expensive dresses and tuxedos that cost a little fortune. Soft orchestra played in the background and some were already partnered up dancing to the slow tune of the music. William stood by a pillar, sipping his whiskey, studying every face closely, waiting. He had the premonition of a strange girl coming.
He didn’t come to check out the beautiful women; they were in assorted, or to check out famous faces, or be awed by how much the buttons on their suits cost. There will be plenty of days for such. Today, he was here on a mission. The singular impossible mission he had ever undertaken and so far, he hadn’t seen his little goldmine. She was the host and making an appearance was definite. In the meantime, he decided, he will revel his drink, have another and join the socializing going on. Here hosted a lot of good networks and information from the right source is power.
“I bought these buttons in Romania—" The man with the story had a head bloated to the size of a football. His even larger neck looked like a baseball pat, but the bunch of men present kept up with rapt attention.
“Yeah?”
“Crafted in the very caves where dinosaur’s eggs once hatched—"
“Mine was from Atlantis.”
They all turned towards the city’s second-richest man. “You mean the lost city?”
“You know your histories, hahaha! I sent divers out, and they came back with them.”
“Woah!”
“Woah!”
“Wooah!”
William bore holes in his glass as he left, counting the minutes. After walking away helplessly, all he could do was stick to sipping his whiskey. All these rich asses ever talked about was how rich they were, and for the life of him, he couldn’t stomach it this night. There were no business talks or gossip about the international market. Only their next hanging spot and its views were great subjects for discussion. William had no time to hang out or enjoy life right now. Now was the time to achieve and reach great heights, but his talk about this seems to bore them. No one likes to talk about work when having fun, someone had mentioned. So he left the mingling affairs to his other mood and sat by the bar clutching another glass of whiskey. He will just observe. The only fun that comes from observation at this type of party was watching how the average man and the new money suck up to old money.
William could relate to that misery. Before this position, he was like these men that hang onto every word that is said by men of influence. It was part of the nightmare one has to pass through when climbing the financial ladder. You laugh at their dry jokes and make them think they are the most interesting piece in an art gallery. He still worships certain people, though. Soon, it will be a thing of the past. The host just has to make an appearance for that future to enter the potter’s wheel.
The finger he tapped rhythmically against his glass seemed to echo. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder with the feeling that something huge was happening. Grey heels, before he saw long legs paired with them. As she descended the stairs, Williams discovered he wasn't the sole spectator enthralled by her. The boisterous room of men and women looked up with envy and admiration and raging fire to possess. Men and their eyes. They were straightforward beings and he couldn’t blame his kind when he was also failing to keep himself in check.
Her beauty was fierce. Forcing your attention to never leave. She walked at ease and yet still with a queen-like air. An air of superiority in a body-hugging purple gown and gothic makeup. For William, her choice of make-up was ironic, like she was playing at—the more you look, the less you see.
She’d already begun chatting up some guests. It was time for William to make his move before the locusts eat her up.
William looked at his wristwatch, his mind going to work, deciding the best time until he made his approach. He doesn’t want to look like these men drooling over her or keep a distance that they would forget about him. She would be the one fawning by the time he’s done with her. No one is impervious to his charm or looks.
Twenty minutes later, he stood up. Across the room, she leaned against a pillar alone. A forgotten drink held by golden brown fingers.
William approached slowly, like a hunter observing a little deer. She stopped fiddling with her glass long enough to see him approach. He made eye contact, held it, and burst a smile her way.
“You look so bored.” William came and placed a hand on the pillar above her head that forced her to look up. “If you are this bored out by your party, then we have failed as guests.’’
“I am not bored…” she defended, her momentarily agitation dissipated but her face very still. “There is just nothing left to do. And I would’ve cleared my plate, but my stomach is full.”
“Then let me only apologize for all the men here,” he cooed. “A woman like you only needs to talk and they will fall to their knees.”
She gestured toward him. “Will you fall to your knees?”
“When I’ve lost my liquor courage.”
She scoffed. “Everyone here wants me to stand prettily while they tell me their latest exploits. What’s yours?’’
“Yesterday I bought a suit,” William told her, while balancing her faint smirk with a smile, “today I am talking to the most breathtaking woman in the room. I’d like her to dance with me. Put me out of my misery. Dance with me.’’
She threw her head away from him and her completely expressionless face broke down into what might be the beginnings of smiles.
