If I Were You [FEATURED]

5 - Florian

Soft lounge music provides a classy background as three hundreds people roam inside the refurbished refectory, gorging up on appetizers and enjoying the open bar. Men show off their tanned backs, slender legs, or rounded buttocks--or all three of them--in glamorous cocktail dresses. The dizzying fluttering of colors is toned down by women. The overwhelming majority of them picked black for their tuxedos, but a single one had the confidence to opt for a pearly white jacket--Alexandra.

Between rounds of replenishing champagne flutes, I witness the effects of her charisma. People steal glances at her, following her with their gazes wherever she goes, like sunflowers through the day. An agreeable smile is plastered on her face as she flits around the room. She shakes a hand here and pats a shoulder there, and her interlocutor beams in return. It's fascinating; no one's immune to her magnetic presence.

While I observe her from behind the buffet, sadness builds inside my chest. Alexandra hasn't smiled in my direction since she came back from her office. A couple of times I thought she was staring at me, but she was too far to be certain. And because she takes her food and drinks from the waitresses circulating between the guests, she hasn't approached the refreshment stall I'm womanning.

I wish I could ask how her work emergency went, and if it was related to the stupid macarons. Instead, my clumsiness got me stationed behind the buffet all night long. The gala is nearing its end, and we'll part ways afterwards. I won't even be able to thank Alexandra properly.

A fleeting thought makes my mouth curl down. Could she be avoiding me because of whatever happened in the chef's office? Gosh, that would be embarrassing. I hope she doesn't think me wanton.

"Lynn heard Hellannoying on the phone. Her mother sold the company," Christina whispers while we arrange empty glasses into a pyramid--a tedious and repetitive task; the guests bend their elbows at an alarming rate.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts away from the mystery that is Alexandra and back to the conversation. "Who's Lynn again?"

Tina points to a scraggy kid near the ice sculpture. "Hellannoying was pretty distressed. After all she was expecting her mother to transfer ownership along the years."

"Will it affect our jobs?"

"I don't think so. Though, as of this afternoon, Hellannoying became an employee like any other."

"Perhaps she'll quit and start her own catering company?" I try not to sound too hopeful.

"It'd be awesome. I'll toast to that." Christina winks and clinks two empty flutes together. Then, remembering something, "By the way, Lynn turned eighteen today. The older girls and I thought it would be fun to take her out to The Bridge after work."

"First legal drink in a fancy club. That's neat."

Christina rubs her chin then asks, "Do you want to go?" After a pause, "Together?"

"To The Bridge?"

"Yeah. Lynn said the first round will be on her. This should get everyone to hurry cleaning up the place."

"It wouldn't be a good idea. I've had a difficult day, with the macarons incident and Mrs. Helgadottir breathing down my neck ever since. I also have an electronics assignment to hand in tomorrow. Plus, my shift at the grocery store starts at eight."

"Oh, okay. I understand. No big deal."

I casually bump shoulders with her. "I said it wouldn't a good idea, not that I wouldn't go."

Christina beams. "Great. Awesome. I'm so glad. We're gonna have fun, I promise--"

"Castillo, we're out of Veuf Clicquot. Go get a crate from the kitchen." Mrs. Helgadottir pops between us with a murderous glare.