Me & Mine

30. Drink Up Me Hearties, Yo Ho!

After two mimosas more the Sheffields announce that they have to return to the city momentarily. Max sighs softly and shakes his father's hand. "When will you be back?" He asks, but Ben shrugs. "It's a busy time at work, son," he says. Max looks down and nods silently. I get the feeling that it's always a busy time at work for them.

Ellen takes my hand and pinches it slightly. "It was really nice to meet you, Fay," she smiles.

"Likewise," I say, grinning from the general happy mood of Sunday brunches and the light buzz I'm feeling from the mimosas, "the next time you and Mr. Sheffield are in town you must let me and my brother host you for dinner!"

"I'd like that," she says, "I'd like that very much."

I shake hands with Ben and exchange pleasantries that are common courtesy in such social situations. Max smirks and places his hand on the small of my back, softly stroking his thumb over the fabric of my dress. His parents wave us goodbye one final time before they slowly walk across the dining hall and out of our sights. I let out a sigh and lean my body against Max.

"I think that went well," I say softly and Max smirks at me. "You were amazing," he whispers and kisses my hair, "you weren't lying when you said you're good with parents."

"It's all about speaking the language," I shrug, "I practically grew up in Country Clubs and hotel lobbies."

"Sounds kinda lonely," Max says. I smile and rest my head against his shoulder. We look good together, he in his sand colored suit and me in my ivory dress.

"Everyone is always lonely in the city," I smirk, "besides, it's no more lonely than growing up in an empty mansion in a little town."

Max sighs. "Yeah," he says softly, "but now we have each other, right?"

"Right," I say, scanning the room quickly. Cammie and Keira are still laughing and talking to their friends, the old people are still eating and drinking their mimosas, and most middle-aged people are still rotating in the neat patterns of their social circles. My eyes fall on a couple, standing close to Cammie, who look like they are in their late forties. Even from afar their faces look very familiar... I shake my head and face Max again.

"Are those Cammie's parents?" I ask and nod in the direction of the familiar couple.

"Yeah," Max says, "the great and powerful Winstons."

I let out a small sigh and bite the inside of my cheek.

"So do they serve something stronger than mimosas in this joint?" I ask and Max smirks. He takes my hand and leads me through the hordes of people, nodding the occasional "good to see you" and "we must catch up soon" at the proper people stuck in their refined routines. We rush out of the dining hall and back to the entrance, where we silently sneak past the wardrobe girls and into a small side door.

The corridor is dimly lit and leads to a big wooden door. Max smirks and pushes me against the wall. He smashes his lips against mine and I forget to breath. His hands roam my body and I close my eyes, my heart pounding and my body tingling. He rests his forehead against mine and tries to catch his breath. "I really wanted to that," he whispers and I bite my lip.

"It's quite alright," I say softly and Max smiles. "I like it when you talk posh to me," he says, sliding his hand down my arm. He takes my hand and pulls me with him to the grand dark wooden door.

The door squeaks softly as Max pushes it open and the room looks dark and deserted. I blink a few times to let my eyes get used to the darkness and slowly see the contours of a vintage wooden bar. Behind it bottles of booze and tall and short glasses stand against the wall, towering to the high ceiling. I smirk and nudge Max' shoulder. He closes the door behind us and silently walks over to the bar. He takes a bottle of gin from one of the shelves and we sit down on the floor, our backs against the wall. Max screws the cap off and passes the bottle to me. I take a big gulp and let the fruity fluid warm my body. Thank God rich people know their liquor – there's nothing as horrible as sipping straight gin when the gin is particularly bad.