Alistair McClair, Seattle's #1 most eligible bachelor, has had a string of horrible breakups. 99 ex-girlfriends to be exact. And now was his time for a new match. But an issue arises in the matchmaking process, linking him up with a man. Alistair se...
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Calvin Fischer
What to wear around rich people? It's a question that I– and probably millions of other Americans– wonder to ourselves. In the case that, hypothetically, you start dating a rich guy and are soon invited to a gala with other rich people, you must learn about the proper way to dress.
And lucky for me, I have no idea what to wear. When it comes to my salary, I earn a good amount of money. At least enough to afford a nice apartment and have spending cash for a few things. But I don't have $1,000 t-shirt money like certain blue-eyed handsome men...
Which led me to the conclusion that, if I can't afford expensive designer clothing, I'll need to at least look great in the stuff I wear.
So I spent almost two weeks– from the moment Alistair invited me to the gala– getting a good outfit styled. Evelyn spent her free time just stitching nice for me. She was later paid with Lorde tickets as a thanks.
The day came for us to leave for Oregon. After a quick goodbye from my parents and friends, I left for Alistair's building. There, he escorted me into his car.
The ride to the airport was quick. He had his own private jet, because of course he does. Throughout the ride to the airport and once we were in the sky, Alistair kept asking me if I was okay.
I had only been in a plane maybe five times in my life. But never in a private one. I wonder how much CO2 emissions this lets out. I should talk to Alistair about that.
After a few hours in the sky, with me panicking about the plane crashing, we landed in Oregon. Alistair was quick to get out of the plane. I'm pretty sure I saw him breathing heavily once we exited the plane.
"So, what now?" I asked Alistair. The two of us were standing on the tarmac. It was dark out and cold.
"The car will be here shortly." He replied. I rubbed my hands together and shivered from the cold. "Here." He held out his hands. I placed my hands on top of his. Alistair began to rub his fingers, creating friction and heat.
"Thanks." I said while my teeth were chittering.
"Mhm." He said. His fingers kept warming my hands up, but his eyes were looking around.
"Uh, can I ask you something?" I said, breaking the silence between us.
"Yeah." He replied, looking down at me. Our close proximity terrified me. I haven't really been this close to him.
"I want to thank Mr. Chamberlain for inviting us and letting us stay in his home. What do you think he'll like?" I asked.
He heartily chuckled. "He's a rich man. He can buy whatever he desires. Just leave it at that." He said. But he must've seen my face drop, because he added, "But he loves his wife. Maybe that'll help you."
I began to think of a way to thank Clarence Chamberlain until my thoughts were disturbed by a pair of headlights shining on us. I turned and saw a black car driving towards us. It parked beside us, and the driver got out from the driver's seat and opened the door for us.
