The Alpha For Her

Chapter 5

Lois and Tomiko worked the crowd. They were light and charming, and so reassuring. Still, Jennifer saw more and more people with drinks in their hands. She wondered if she should be concerned, but then she realized that there was nothing that she could do about anything, so she decided to let the others do the worrying, and so set about enjoying herself. Grabbing another plate, but avoiding the bar, she mingled and mixed, steering clear of the groups who were talking about the mudslides, and finding the ones that were discussing the conference and each other’s websites. Candy was with a group of programmers and site developers, and they were speaking another language.

Jennifer soon found a group who were in her niche, and eased in with them nicely. There she met Beatrice, an ashen blond woman who was, like Jennifer, on the plus side. But Beatrice dressed in such a daring mix of retro and urban chic that she could have graced a catalogue cover. They were hovering around the buffet, and their chat soon turned to how people had gotten their starts.

“Well,” Beatrice said, “with me, it was all in the name. I mean ‘Beatrice’? I mean, come on, it’s the not the nineteenth century; what was my mother thinking? Actually, she was thinking about my grandmother who died in the London Blitz, so… Anyway, you would not believe the jokes I got all through school – particularly from the Tiffany’s and Salina’s.”

Jennifer laughed.

“So,” Beatrice went on, “in high school, I found this vintage clothing shop, and I fell in love with the styles. From there it was a natural fit; Beatrice – vintage, it worked. By junior prom, Tiffany was begging me for fashion advice.”

“Did you help her?” Jennifer asked.

“Yeah,” the woman said. “I found her this ruffled, fringed, forties gown that was made for swing. Of course, the girl couldn’t dance, she could only gyrate. But still, she looked good. But then, our senior year, she…she still looked good.”

“She dissed you,” Jennifer said.

“Yeah,” Beatrice said, lowering her eyes and nodding. Then she shrugged, looked up and said, brightly, “And here I am. And she’s a doot-doot lady.”

“A what?”

“A grocery store check out,” Billie said, coming up beside Jen. “You know, those doot-doot sounds.”

“Success is the best revenge,” Beatrice said. “So, Jennifer, I’m guessing that you had a similar experience in high school.”

“Something like that,” Jennifer said, “but…well, you know. Anyway, call me Jen. This is Billie.”

“Hi, Jen, Billie. Call me Bea.”

“Hey, Bea.”

“I know your site,” Billie said, “Rusty Zippers. You got a lot of cool stuff from the fifties and sixties. I’ve steered many a client your way.”

“Really,” Bea said. “How cool. What’s your site?”

“I work with some cross-dressers. It’s a sideline. A lot of them are older and want to look like their grade school teachers. Your site is cool.”

“Cool,” Bea said. “And thanks. But, what is your site’s name?”

“…and damned proud,” Billie said.

“Huh?”

“Billie has a specific clientele,” Jennifer put in. “But, you know, she’s here. She’s here with all of us, and I don’t know about you, but this place is outrageous. They got a retracting pool cover! And, do you know, I found in my room…”

Bea laughed and was delighted to know that she wasn’t the only one who had found other things – very special and very nice things – mixed in with her own. They talked about the items, and the prices. Bea was tickled, saying that if she got nothing else out of the conference, she had a bunch of lovely lovelies.

“Plus,” she added, “a pair of rocking go-go boots that could have been on the set of Laugh-In.”

Jennifer and Billie just looked at her.

“It’s a sixties thing,” Bea said.

“Right,” Jennifer said. “But back to the now. I almost can’t believe this place, can you? I mean, you see it all the time in the magazines and the glam shows, and I’ll admit that I drool. But, really, it’s the one-percent.”

“Hey,” Bea said, “You gotta dream.”

“I could never dream this big.”

She turned to grab a stuffed mushroom, when a deep, confident voice said,

“Why not?”

Jennifer looked. There was a man. He was taller than Jen. He wore an excellent, silk, charcoal pin-stripe suit, complete with vest and red tie. His sandy hair was swept back, but there was a growing sheen around his temples. He looked sunned, strong, and lean, as if he had spent his summers crewing a sailboat. His eyes were round, but narrowed at the soft crow’s feet. His nose was sculpted almost to a point, and his smile was flushed, broad and bright.

A pulse raced through Jennifer as she held the man’s gaze. The sensation was so visceral that she thought it might have shown, or might have been sensed. Indeed, the man seemed to notice something, for at that instant, his stoic face flicked with a quick smile, and his hazel eyes seemed to compel.

“If you want to be big,” he said, picking up some glazed shrimp, “you have to think big. And then you have to get to work.”

Jennifer stared at him as he picked out some cherry tomatoes, some bread-and-butter pickles, and some fried chicken.

“Gotta go to work now,” he said, cradling his plate. “Just remember; all a dreamer gets is sleep. You have to do.”

And with that, he worked his way through the crowd and into the house through the kitchen door. The people seemed to part for him, and then the crowd buzz began. Jennifer just stared at the door that he had disappeared through. There was a slight musk scent in the air around her.

“Was that–?” Billy said.

“Yeah,” Bea answered. “And he didn’t touch the crab puffs.”

Jennifer shook her head, still looking to the kitchen door. Bea and Billie stared at her. Bea’s eyebrow raised, and a small smirk crept her lips.

“Jen?” Billie asked.

“I think I’m tired,” Jennifer said. “No. I know I’m tired, and all this food…I think I want my bed now.”

“But,” Bea said, “the party is just getting started.”

“I’ve had a long day.”