Trivial Pursuits Ch. 10

Dear Readers,

Welcome back to another chapter. Hope you are still enjoying the story, despite any frustrations with the slow build up...but I promise change is coming fast!

Again, let me know your thoughts, good, bad or whatever, and rate if you want.

Thanks to AlreadyTaken for an awesome job at editing.

Enjoy!

Titania

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CHAPTER TEN

"Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love."
"Dance Me to the End of Love" Leonard Cohen

"And. I. Think. That. Will. Do it," Lou announced slowly, placing the very last touch to Alessa's face. "Well, what do you think?" she asked as she allowed her to look at herself in the mirror.

For a moment, Alessa only sat with wide eyes and slightly gaping mouth. "Um...wow," she finally responded.

"Let me see," Octo begged, and came round to view her sister who was sitting in the chair at the small table in her over-the-garage apartment. "Oh! Alessa! You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!" she exclaimed, awed by the dramatic look Lou had given her. "Oh, I wish Lou could do my makeup!" she nearly pouted, plopping down adjacent to her sister.

"You don't wear makeup," she reminded her sister. "You're too young and far too pretty to need it."

Octo raised an eyebrow at that. "I'm not near as pretty as you."

Alessa laughed out loud, wondering if there was a modest gene that kept people from realizing the extent of their own beauty. "Be that as it may, I think you are pretty and know you will be beautiful. And your flawless skin does not need any makeup."

Alessa looked back at herself, rubbing her lips together and scrutinizing Lou's truly talented hand. "I gave you a nude lip so you don't have to worry about reapplying every ten minutes throughout the night. Plus, with as dramatic as I made your eyes, it would have been too much to give you a bold lip as well," she explained.

Alessa nodded her head, understanding and agreeing. "I'm quite impressed. Makes me realize how silly it was to think I could have done as good a job with what measly supplies I have," she admitted, knowing now there was a reason makeup artists had so many utensils and shadows and blushes. For as dramatic as her look was, it didn't feel or appear heavy. She knew she was beautiful.

She looked back over her hair, making sure nothing had fallen. Lou had taken a thick portion from near the front of her hair and given her a fat Dutch braid, which she then took back loosely with the rest of her hair to wrap up in a slightly messy and easy, heavy knot near the base of her head. Lou explained a simple, mildly deconstructed up do was best with the high collar of her simple gown.

Lou took off the towel she had wrapped around Alessa's shoulders to keep her silver gown clean during the process and gathered up the last of her supplies. Alessa then offered her a glass of white wine while they waited for her father to pick up Octo and the hired driver to arrive for them.

"Will there be dancing?" Octo asked as they were all seated on Alessa's two pieces of over-stuffed furniture in the modest sitting area of her loft-style apartment. The gangly teen girl sat on the large, round arm of the small sofa and leaned on her sister, her face pressed gently against Alessa's hair and her fingers playing fleetingly with her sister's.

"Sure," Lou answered. "They hire a great string quartet every year. And people dance and mingle about."

"Do you eat dinner?"

"Not a full course meal, no. But there's tons of food passed around by the servers. You just grab what you want. And the best champagne," Lou said with a dreamy smile. "Or should I say sparkling wine, since Wiles, Mayer, and Schecter uses Farella Vineyard wines exclusively. I think it is part of their agreement in representing the Napa vineyard. And do they make the best sparkling wine money can buy."

Just then Octo's phone chimed. She read the text and announced her dad was there. She grabbed her bag and Alessa escorted her to the door. As she gave her a hug, Octo whispered, "Sweep him off his feet so he bids for you. I want to hear about your date. Call me tonight?"

Alessa could only manage an indulging smile, telling herself she was not going to tempt Denton Ashbury to bid for her. "It will be too late tonight. I'll call you tomorrow." She kissed her little sister on the cheek.

"Bye Lou!" she called as she left out the door and hopped down the stairs.

Alessa stepped out on the small landing to wave at her father. She saw his hand out the window wave back, and when her sister was settled in the car, he backed out and left.

She hadn't gone to her senior prom, using the state track meet that took place the same day as an excuse to turn down the few offers she'd had. And though she didn't have a prom dress, she remembered seeing her father at her meet that day, waiting for him to ask who she was going with, what her dress looked like; would she send him a picture? But he never mentioned it, seemingly oblivious that all of teenagedom was currently absorbed in the single most exciting party experience of their lives. But not her. And because he'd never asked, he'd never known she hadn't gone.

Alessa finished her white wine, hoping the familiar discontent in her chest would settle like heartburn after a Tums. Not twenty minutes later their driver also arrived, and together the two colleagues-turned-friends settled back and enjoyed the dark drive into the heart of the Financial District.

Every year, Lou explained, the party was held at the Banking Hall at the Bently Reserve. It was a classic space, and as the bank was one of Wiles, Mayer, and Schecter's most intimate clients, the gala was another example of the very symbiotic relationship in the business world.

Despite the heavy Saturday evening traffic, the driver pulled up relatively timely. The moment Alessa spied all the dazzling lights lining the actual red carpet up the steps of the white-stone building, her stomach dropped and flipped and never seemed to settle. Lou, dressed in a gorgeous and playful lavender dress with yards of gossamer fabric and a neck line plunging nearly to her navel, had her face plastered to the window just like a kid. Tall white columns lined the front of the building, and streaming from them were long red banners announcing the event taking place inside. The entire display was about as much pomp as Alessa thought the occasion could bear.

And much to her immediate discomfort, Alessa noted a slew of photographers lining the red carpet, snapping widely at the many people ascending the stairs. "What are they doing here?" she squeaked, as their car slowed and queued behind a short line of others waiting to unload their passengers.

"The photographers? Alessa, this is one of the events of the season here in San Francisco. Hell, in the nation. This is Omniliance. These parties are legendary. And the crème de la crème are all here. They're going to raise millions tonight. This is news worthy."

Alessa tried to breathe out her anxiety, and attempted to convince herself that this was what it was to represent Fortune Five-Hundred corporations. It was a reasonable expectation that she would have to mingle with people who the public at large found to be of entertaining and news-worthy value. And tonight, she was going to fake her way into their ranks.

Eventually, their car stopped and two men stepped forward to open their door. As Lou was sitting next to the door, she was the first to step out, smiling for the snapping photographers. Alessa's stomach was warning her that she was about to be sick, but she took a deep breath, refusing to fail. And when a hand appeared in the doorway to offer her assistance out, she scooted closer, took it, and stepped one black, satiny foot out onto the pavement.

She was nearly knocked over by the force of the bright lights firing rapidly at her until they all melded into one bright and constant light. She was looking down at the radiant glitter of her dress in the perpetual luminance of the cameras' flashes. And then she looked up and braved a smile and tried to feign an ignorance of the photographers' presence, instead focusing on Lou who was posing unabashedly. She took a few steps to join her at the bottom of the steps. Lou encouraged her to look at the photographers and smile, to which she did with a shy smile at first, but before long was smiling widely, unable to keep her embarrassment down. And whenever Alessa was embarrassed, she had a tendency to laugh.

"Okay, I don't think I can stand anymore," she whispered through smiling lips and clenched teeth. "I think I'm going to melt under all these lights," she admitted.

Lou only laughed and, waving to the photographers, led Alessa up the steps to the entrance. In the main lobby of the grand bank was a gallery dedicated to all the projects the Ominliance Charity and Trust was dedicated to managing. Its interests were wide and varied, ranging from women's rights in Middle East countries, to saving the rainforests in South America, to fighting global poverty, to providing aid to after-school programs in the urban areas. There were people assigned at each charity project booth to give a talk about the importance of their particular endeavor and, of course, to convince the patrons to donate as much as possible to it.

Alessa and Lou made their way through the displays, listening here and there as their interests were piqued. Lou was busy looking for her boyfriend who was supposed to meet her there, as well as any coworkers she'd be interested in talking with, while Alessa furtively kept an eye out for Denny, wondering if he had brought a date, and if he had, what her feelings would be about it.

Eventually, they made their way through the crowd and entered the massive and equally impressive hall where the main festivities were to take place. It was romantically decorated with long, curtaining swaths of endless ethereal fabric. Thousands of candles were placed around on various tables, and along the ceiling, up lighting glowed warmly to make the room feel like a space between heaven and earth, illuminated by an unseen lighting source.

People milled. People laughed. People moved as though part of a larger, swarming organism. The music was moving smoothly in the background just under the consciousness of the party-goers. Alessa and Lou found a group of colleagues who were speaking with some of their clients. The two women fit easily in. At some point, Lou's boyfriend, Richard, arrived. His suit pants were skinny trousers. He wore a blue bow-tie that had teeny skull and cross bones on it, and his hair looked like it had been cut with a weed whacker and then heavily moussed to lay heavy and flat in a scarecrow mop top. Alessa also noted he had five hoops in one ear and too many in the other to count. She watched them a moment as they kissed and mumbled sexy-nothings to each other.

At last, Lou introduced her to him and the three chatted as a waiter came by to offer the group champagne. They continued speaking until the couple's drinks were emptied and Richard insisted on pulling Lou out onto the dance floor. He mumbled something about being able to dance, even to dinosaur music.

Alessa was left alone as she watched them get swallowed up by the crowd, and then turned her back and downed the last of her drink.

"Careful there, don't forget what happened the last time you drank too much," Denny's warm voice warned her teasingly.

Alessa spun with wide eyes, surprised at seeing him at last. Her heart gave a hard slam in her chest as she took in how handsome he looked. His black suit was exquisitely cut to his tall and athletic frame. The narrow lapel was in a shinier fabric than the rest, giving just a gleam of sophistication. He wore a black bowtie, that, even though it was crisp and perfect looking, she knew was not merely a clip-on, but had been tied by a skillful hand. And his hair, she noted, looked even more coiffed than was typical, as though he just came from the salon.

"Yes, well," she breathed, trying to find her voice, "I would argue the amount I drank last time was proportionate to the amount of duress I endured."

"Funny," he mused, stepping closer to her so their conversation was more intimate, "I wouldn't have considered you a coward in need of a little false courage to face any amount of duress," he said shaking his own champagne flute before finishing it off. Quickly, he placed their glasses on a passing waiter's tray and took two more. "And to clarify," he added as he handed her a new glass, "I don't think you endured anything. As I recall, we had a very pleasant time."

But Alessa said nothing to his bait as he lifted his new glass to his lips to take a sip, keeping his glittering gaze on her all the while. "I must say," he continued, "you look absolutely stunning," he commented, making a point to scrutinize her intently. He loved the simplistic, yet glamorous gown she wore.

The sleeveless gown had a high collar that encircled the base of her neck, highlighting its delicacy, and the fitted torso perfectly accentuated her curves. The bodice of the dark gray, silk chiffon was solidly covered in inch-wide bands of sparkling silver, crystal beads, but as they ran down the torso and continued on down the skirt, the bands began to separate out to create heavy pleats so the silky fabric underneath could be seen. It also seemed, he thought, that though it was silver, it faded here and there into a darker hue to remind him of the Milky Way waving in a magical night sky.

"You are a dream made real," he breathed poetically, momentarily lost at the difficulty of containing his attraction. Alessa couldn't help but squirm under his gaze, her body feeling warmed just by the touch of his eyes. At last, Denny regained his senses and took pity on her. "Now, stop looking uncomfortable. I'm about to introduce you to some very important clients, and I want you to do what you do best."

"And what is that?" she whispered, still burning from the desire and approval radiating from him.

He steered her to a group of distinguished looking people. "Dazzle," he whispered in her ear, hitching the burn on her skin higher and creating an itch in her belly so deep and novel she struggled to not appear affected.

"Ralph, Gregory. Mrs. Landon, how are you this evening?" Denny schmoozed, taking the gentlemen's hands and shaking them. "Will you allow me to introduce Alessa Allen, our newest, and I think most promising, associate." He then went about the group introducing each person to her so she could shake their hands and give some sort of greeting.

"Promising, huh?" Mrs. Landon asked. She was a tall, stoutly woman with large gray hair that was in some puffed style atop her head. Her makeup was severe and her eyebrows were hilariously colored in solid black.

"Absolutely. Not only is she single-handedly leading my latest venture in the Korean market, she recently helped uncover an embezzling scam involving property around the Bay Area."

"Really? That wouldn't happen to be old Sloan, would it? I heard talk that he was in trouble for his latest methods of funding his redevelopment projects," Gregory Lancaster spoke.

"We aren't at liberty to say just yet," Alessa answered smiling reluctantly.

"Aw, certainly you can let us in on it, can't you? Just between friends?"

"Mr. Lancaster," Alessa said with a smile, "if I were to tell you case-sensitive information, how can I earn your trust that I would keep your own business information confidential and not share it with all my other friends?" Her rebuttal left the older man with a begrudging smile, and the rest of the group chuckled.

"Tell us, Alessa, where did you go to school?" Mrs. Landon.

"Alessa graduated top of her class at Boalt House," Denny supplied, seeing the cutting calculation in the woman's eyes.

"Berkeley?" she asked, slightly taken aback.

"Absolutely, I loved it," Alessa replied coolly, lifting her champagne glass to her mouth and looking around the room.

"Yes, but Berkeley," the woman kept on puzzled.

"Is an excellent school. It prepared me perfectly for the Bar and to work at Wiles, Mayer, and Schecter."

Just as Denny was to cut into the conversation, Alessa looked at the woman, as if trying to place her. "You aren't Joanna Landon of the Landon-Hugh Charitable Trust, are you?" When the woman gave a very dignified, if not slightly smug nod to confirm Alessa's suspicion, she continued on. "Did your trust not donate nearly two million to build the new wing at the library at Berkeley and stock it with rare anthropological volumes?"

"Yes, that is correct," the woman smiled proudly.

"Then, I hope, ma'am, if you find Berkeley a worthy enough institution to give it two million of your dollars, you would find it worthy enough to train the lawyers that protect your and your trust's interests," Alessa concluded sincerely.

There was silence in the group as they looked at the matron of one of the wealthiest trusts in the state as she coolly dissected Alessa. "I do say, Denny," she spoke at last, "this one has spunk. I have a feeling, regardless of your education, Ms. Allen, that you will make a fine lawyer with a tongue like that."

Alessa swallowed while trying to hold onto her mild smile, not certain if she had been praised or chastised. She had a feeling it was a little of both.

Denny spoke up finally, trying to cut the tension by asking one of the men how his new yacht was performing. As the man carried on about it, Denny slipped a hand onto the small of Alessa's back, meaning to comfort her, to praise her for standing her ground. It occurred to him to wonder how she felt for constantly defending her choice of schools, especially now that he knew she did it for personal reasons, and not for lack of ambition or academic merit.

"And what about you, Miss. Allen, do you enjoy sailing?" Gregory had asked.

Alessa gave a nervous, breathy chuckle. "Heavens, no."

"Oh, really? And why not?" another one of the men asked.

She looked around the inquiring faces peering expectantly at her. "If I must admit to any weakness, I suppose it would be a fear of the open water. Of drowning."

Denny narrowed his eyes at her, a wondering smile on his mouth. "I didn't know that," he stated.

"Denny, you should take this girl out on your boat and teach her to get over her fear. After all, such a perfect girl can't be allowed to be afraid of anything," Ralph, a portly, seventy-something CEO of a retail giant instructed as he smiled flirtatiously at Alessa.

"I'm not certain about that, Mr. Hyght," she stated. "After all, every great hero has some hamartia. It's what made all those tragedies so relatable. And as flaws go, I don't consider not feeling comfortable on the water to be all that bad," she concluded.

Denny chuckled and then excused them, giving some sort of explanation that he should introduce her to other clients who were lacking in entertainment. As he pulled her away, she stiffened slightly. "Entertainment?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"Absolutely," he answered her, scanning the crowd. "You probably failed to notice, but most eyes in this room have turned to you more than once. It's only right that I make sure to show no favoritism among our clients," he explained as he led her along, keeping his warm and intimate hand on the small of her back.

"You make me sound like a new toy you're proud to show off. And besides, who appointed you my tour guide?" she continued on in her petulant manner. She was tired of performing and she had been there only thirty minutes.