Chapter 13
He watched her carefully and with growing interest as the dinner
wore on. She chatted idly with other
diners easily; they fell into relaxed conversation with appropriate guffaws and
smiles. While he responded when
necessary, he didn’t actively engage himself in any conversations and reserved
his attention towards Vanessa’s actions.
Their table was the most lively—it was
full of smiles and laughter, as well as some of the most important people, with
the deepest pockets. He could see envy
on some of the other guests’ faces; whether or not they longed for something to
take the dullness of the evening, or simply because it was the table.
It shocked him when Bill Gates crossed the room, from his
own personal table for his family and friends, and asked Vanessa to dance.
His first instinct was to say no for her, but his interest was
piqued, so he said nothing and observed the two glide on the dance floor.
Just why would Bill Gates ask her to dance?his mind wondered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Thank you for the dance, dear.
It was good seeing you again,” Bill said as he departed from their
table.
He choked.
“Vanessa, can I talk to you privately for a second?” he
asked pointedly.
She sighed, sensing some sort of defeat, nodded, and allowed him
to escort her into the main hallway.
“Funny, I thought Bill Gates just said ‘it was good seeing you again’,”
Marshall said harshly.
“Keep your voice down!” she reprimanded. “He was a friend of my father’s.”
“Who was your father?”
“Nobody,” she cringed at the tone in his voice.
“Nobodies don’t know Bill fucking
Gates! I don’t even know him!”
“They were old college buddies.”
“Right,” he rolled his eyes.
“Fine, don’t believe me,” she seethed and started towards the
exit to hail a cab.
He caught up with her quickly, and snatched her elbow in his
grasp. “We’re not finished yet!”
“Excuse me? We’re
not? Oh, I thought that since I’m a liar
and all, what’s left to say?”
“Damn it, I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”
“Do I?” she ground out.
Marshall closed his
eyes, counted to ten, and tried a calmer approach to the situation. “You’re not a liar, but it is a little
peculiar that you know Bill Gates. It’s
also convenient that your father and him are college
buddies. Is that really it?”
She bit her lip in thought.
“Yes, that’s it,” she replied firmly.
“They shared a dorm during the brief time Billy went to Harvard.”
“Billy?"
“Sorry,” she stuttered.
“He was a good friend of the family’s; he was always very nice to
me. We’ve sort of…lost touch in the past
few years,” she said sadly.
“Why?” he asked baldly.
“Just because,” she shrugged and said in a way that told him she
had no plans to elaborate.
“I’m sorry I grilled you."
“It’s okay, but we better get back otherwise they’ll be
worried.”
“Who’ll even notice?”
“Our whole table, at least, and many others. You’re also a very important celebrity
personality that’s making an appearance there.”
“Fine, fine, let’s go,” he replied begrudgingly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of the evening went according to the roster; no more
arguments, no slips of the tongue. Marshall
still had the nagging feeling that there was more than what she was telling
him, and he fully intended to uncover her secrets before her time as his
secretary and lover were up.
That was a sobering thought:
knowing she was going to leave in two months. He couldn’t help the sharp pain that
resonating through his chest at the notion.
In true fashion, however, he shook his head and ignored it—if it was
important, surely it’d come up later on.
The dinner didn’t begin to wind down until midnight, and by one am,
Marshallfelt
it was time to make his exit as other guests were leaving more and more
frequently since twelve-thirty. It was
eerily silent in the ride home; he decided not to bother trying to break it as
his own thoughts needed some attention, and Vanessa appeared not to be in the
mood for his antics—or him at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marshall wasn’t too
surprised at the cold shoulder; he had to admit he’d acted a little harshly in
lieu of his behavior. He’d interrogated
her mercilessly—like interviewers did to him, something he absolutely
detested. Not only that, but she was
right—he, essentially, accused her of lying, or at the very least, withholding
pertinent information from him.
How the hell am I going to make it up to her? he asked himself.
Chapter 14