High Life | ✔️

21

MY MOTHER HAD always been obsessed with the idea of me being a debutante. She was obsessed with anything bourgeoisie. I had a supply of designer gowns back home, gowns that would have been perfect for this occasion.

Maxime DuPont was turning forty-four this year. And a fancy dinner was thereby in commission to commemorate the special day. Fairmont Hotel had an extravagant ballroom, one that the DuPonts loved enough to deem this place a go-to venue for birthday celebrations.

There were crystal chandeliers and ice sculptures, cocktail bearing men and women dressed in formal-wear respectively. Classical music - Maxime's favorites - blared from invisible speakers, adding a certain atmosphere to the enclosed space. Thirty tables scattered the ballroom, but most would remain empty until 7, when the dinner would officially begin.

I had a spot at the main table. Elias, my 'fiancé' dutifully remained by my side even though the night was a perfect one to socialize. There were attractive females, my age, dressed in glimmering gowns spritzed with expensive perfume, sporting saloon-fresh hair glitzing past in designer heels. Many a female attempted to engage in conversation with my 'fiancé'. Yet, he silenced and deterred them with a demure smile and an extension of his metacarpus in my direction (for me to hold his hands). The latter activity to remind the females that he was an engaged man, more than anything.

Such was his reaction to the blonde currently in our presence.

I clasped onto Elias's hand, my thumb brushing past our 'engagement ring' that we had purchased spontaneously earlier today. I suppressed smiling at the memory.

The blonde was beautiful and polite.

"It's been a while. How are you doing, Elias?" She asked through ruby red lips. Her eyes then landed on our entwined fingers, and they blinked several times. "Oh, yeah... Congrats on the, uh, engagement."

Elias flashed her a smile, the one that he wore so often. "Thanks, Georgia, means a lot."

As soon as she blonde left, Elias released my hands from his grasp. He sighed beside me.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Just wanna get this thing over with," he said.

"Who was the blonde?"

"Georgia? An ex. Someone who meant something to me," he said. Then he exhaled and he turned to face me. "But that's in the past, I have you now," he half joked.

As 7pm approached, the tables in the ballroom began to fill. The main table, which was the one I occupied, had 12 seats. These were the same occupants at the breakfast table earlier today. Enzo, the male brat took the seat beside me.

I tried my very best not to acknowledge him. The memory of the poor kid walking in on me naked wasn't one that I wanted to revisit.

But the kid was friendly, too friendly.

"Hey Elias, Andrea," he greeted with a grin. "You look beautiful, Andrea."

"Uh, thanks," I returned.

I was many things, but I wasn't beautiful. I was dressed in a backless, halter neck black dress that reached mid thigh. The dress was made of leather and it hugged my curves so tightly that it slightly impeded breathing. In other words, it was the kind of thing you saw in strip clubs. We had gone shopping again, today, and this time we bought matching engagement rings along with knee length, heeled boots that further solidified my status as a stripper.

Everyone else was dressed in shimmery ballgowns. This was why everyone seemed to do a double take upon catching sight of my dress.

"Elias, this is a black tie event," Valérie was the only one who dared to speak out - albeit in a hissed whisper. Her statement was aimed at her son, but her eyes fixated on me. As though Elias had a duty to curtail my wild habits.