Are You The One?

‘Rock Star’ by Pink played loudly through the car speakers. Brit tried to remain grumpy but she couldn’t resist singing along and soon she shrugged off her disappointment from earlier.

They pulled into the employee parking lot and sprinted inside where they came face to face with Stefan Dunhill. He wore a scowl and tapped his wrist. Brit resisted the urge to roll her eyes. After all he didn’t wear a watch just some stupid fashionable copper bracelet that was supposed to help with balance. Stefan was the typical rich spoiled kid who grew up in Beverly Hills. He wore sports jackets with pastel polo shirts and khakis rolled up at the ankle. He had a great physique and wore his blonde hair long in the front and short in the back. Brit had to admit that he was eye candy but he had the personality of a rock. His father demanded that he do something with his money rather than live off his inheritance, blowing money on vacations, drugs, alcohol and women, men or whatever he blew his money on. Since Stefan had taken two semesters of modern art history in college he thought that qualified him as an art gallery curator. His lack of knowledge didn’t hinder him however and he used his connections to get him prime real estate and a collection of fine and modern art.

“Hello ladies,” he said walking over to them. “No not the wine, I want champagne at tonight’s event,” he said.

Brit shrugged and put the wine bottle back under the bar.

“I have some important buyers coming to the party tonight,” he announced.

“No problem Stefan,” Tara said with her usual sunny disposition.

“Brit, Brittany darling what’s going on with the make-up? Event remember?” he asked wrinkling his nose.

“I’ve told you before makeup is not my thing,” she replied.

“Fine I can’t force you but I can strongly suggest. I really wish you would borrow a page out of Tara’s book. The hair though? C-ute,” he said walking away.

“He is so…” Brit began.

“You know a little makeup couldn’t hurt. Here put on some of my lipstick,” Tara said. “Maybe then you could get a date.”

Brit sighed but took the offered tube and put some on.

“You know wearing makeup hasn’t helped you get a date either,” she joked tossing the tube back to Tara.

“Oh ha-ha,” Tara said sarcastically.

Although she was joking she was also a little bit serious. Between the two of them they had gone on seven disastrous first dates in the past four months. Brit honestly believed the men in L.A. weren’t that interested in her. She wasn’t drop dead beautiful and she wasn’t hideous. She was somewhere in between but for whatever reason the men in L.A. were just not interested. She had a six-month casual fling with a guy she had met at the gym but he turned out to be more interested in himself than he could ever be in any woman. The s*x was great so she tolerated him. One day he decided to break it off because he was getting serious with another woman he had met; Brit has assumed it would be some personal trainer or yoga instructor but it turned out to be the slightly pudgy owner of a bakery not too far from the gym. A shame, she had really liked their raspberry scones. After that she was out of a friends with benefits and baked goods. She thought the loss of the blueberry muffins was the greater tragedy.

For the most part the past three months Brit and Tara’s social life consisted of ordering take-out and binge watching whatever ‘it’ series was trending at the moment on television. A far cry from the life of parties and whirlwind romances she had envisioned when she moved to California, naïve and full of hope. She was pulled from her thoughts by Stefan who had apparently been calling her name.

“Hello Brittany. Earth to Brittany,” he said waving a hand in front of her face.

“How may I help you?” she asked coolly.

“One, the lipstick is fabulous. The guests have already started to arrive. I need to circulate and socialize. Can you make sure the guests are greeted and have their invitations?” he asked.

“Um where is John? Isn’t that his job now?” she asked. “I thought I couldn’t greet anymore and besides I’m getting the hors d’oeuvres ready.”

“Tara, Allison, and Alex can handle it. Please help me out. John is late again.”

“Stefan it is like a hundred degrees outside,” Brit complained.

“There is an awning over the podium,” he retorted.

“This is so unfair,” Brit replied.

“It’s also unfair that you showed up late to work twice this week.”

“Fine.”

“And don’t forget, don’t let anyone in without an invitation. Last time you let in those riff raff college kids. You know they come here just for the free cheese and wine. No exceptions this time.”

“Yes Stefan. I got it. No exceptions.”

She didn’t understand why it was such a big deal. If it weren’t for those students the last art show would have been a disaster. Only about six people on the guest list bothered to show up. Besides they weren’t hurting anyone, just having a fun cheap date. Brit could relate. She was on a budget when she was in college too, something she was sure Stefan knew nothing about. However, with this latest rejection letter, and being late so many times, Tara was right. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. So she would do as he asked.

Brit made her way to the entrance and found the clipboard with the guest list. She plastered on a fake smile and greeted the new arrivals. There was a surprising turnout. It must have something to do with the new artist, Kale Dennis. His fiancé was none other than Callista Hughes, Brit’s favorite up and coming fashion designer. She was excited when they had booked the opening and was hoping she could say hello when she served drinks, but now Stefan had her working the door she doubted she would get the chance.