"I lived next to that lying bastard for ten years now, but do you think he ever had a tool when I needed to borrow one?" A middle-aged man in an ugly Hawaiian shirt finished the punchline of his joke.
McKenzie, linked with Jeffry and unable to escape without a valid excuse, began to laugh falsely at the horribly obvious attempt at impressing her upon their first meeting. She had become a professional at such a thing throughout the night, what with all of Jeffry's co-workers and customers that thought they were funny, but failed to actually prove it could be true. McKenzie knew it would be a miracle if she actually found herself laughing honestly by the end of the night.
"Now, Jeffry, tell us why you kept your wife away from us for so long. She seems absolutely wonderful," the man continued.
"I think she felt the same way, seeing as this was her idea in the first place," Jeffry gushed, brushing the back of his fingers along McKenzie's cheek and looking at her adoringly. She smiled in return. "Not that she has been my wife for that long anyway. It's only been two months now."
"But in the celebrity world, that's an eternity. Am I right, McKenzie?"
"Totally." McKenzie prayed for an excuse to leave now. She didn't want to stay around any longer for the man to compliment her. Clearly, he had been married a long time and needed a nice, fresh face to switch things up. McKenzie didn't want to be that face. "I should go call the caterers. They should have been here with the food already."
"Ah, yes, I was wondering about that." The man grabbed onto his extended stomach. "What will we be having tonight?"
"I ordered basically the entire menu from Portillo's so, really, it's up to you, Mr. Macafee."
"Please call me George," Mr. Macafee insisted. McKenzie would still call him by the same name. "Is that the restaurant I've heard so much about here?"
"Yeah, it's great. Only the best would be served at this barbecue. Now, excuse me."
McKenzie swiftly unhooked her arm from Jeffry's and walked away, keeping her head down in the process. She had no idea where the caterers were, but then again, she didn't care. She just needed to escape the business world for a while.
The air conditioning felt great on McKenzie's skin as soon as she stepped into the house. It stood no where near as grand as her mansion in Westchester, New York, but the suburbs of Chicago were some of the richest in the nation. This house could still be deemed respectable to live in, plus it was furnished with some of the nicest things that McKenzie, or currently, her friends, had sat on.
"Just about done with this?" Barbie Blank smiled from her seat next to Maryse Ouellet on the black leather couch. Mike Mizanin flanked Maryse's other side.
McKenzie had met the trio at a club one time with Ashley, back when Barbie had a boyfriend of her own. She had thought that she would just spend the night drinking and dancing with them, but turns out they became some of her best friends. Funny how things work out that way.
"I can't handle anymore business men, you guys. They're surrounding me."
"That's why we're in here," Mike explained, extending his arms while leaning forward as not to hit Maryse in the face to show that the quartet was indeed alone. "It's cold, we have open access to the food, and we aren't annoyed by cheesy jokes."
"They always go for the pretty girls with those," Maryse pointed out in her think French-Canadian accent.
"I must be beautiful then because every guy I've talked to has tried to impress me with his not-very-good humor."
Just then, the doorbell rang. The foursome looked in its direction as if the thing that pressed the doorbell would eat them alive if let inside. Apart from turning, no one made a move to actually go answer the call and it rang again.
