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I turned to him, finding true concern on his face. “A little nervous I guess. I’ve never been to one of these before, but I’ll be fine.” Armed with Becka’s assurance that I didn’t look too wobbly in these shoes, I was ready for tonight. With this dress, these shoes, and this hair, I was ready to be seen. I even had the smile down that said eat your hearts out girls, I’m Evan McAllister’s girlfriend.
“A warning—the press will be at the door. They’ll want to know your name, and just ignoring them and walking past won’t work tonight. There won’t be a car door to escape to.” He’d mentioned this when he’d invited me, but not in such stark terms.
“Why does my name matter?
“It matters to their vapid readers. It’s clickbait.”
“I’ve gotten quite used to being calledthe latest McAllister minx, andEvan McAllister’s girlfriend. Can’t we just stay with that?”
“Not any longer.”
At the time, I felt I couldn’t say no to this invitation, and now was too late to back out.
He took my hand and squeezed it. “Another thing you should be prepared for.”
“What could be worse than having my name plastered all over the Internet as gossip fodder?”
“My father will be there.”
I laughed. “I’m surprised he didn’t threaten again to fire you if you brought me”
Evan was quiet.
“He actually did, didn’t he?”
“He tried, but you’re more important to me than he anticipated.”
“Can I punch him when I see him? Or, maybe dig my heel into his toes?”
He snorted a laugh. “Your Brooklyn lineage is showing. On this side of the East River, something a little less physical would be more appropriate.”
“That’s the problem with you rich people. You’re all trying to be too subtle. So, tell me, if I can’t throw a drink in his face, what would be more appropriate in this borough? Keep in mind I want him to know it was me.”
Evan stroked his chin before answering. “Say something outlandish to the press. Having his peers know that his son brought somebody uncouth to the event will drive him up a wall.”
“Like admitting I do my own laundry and clean my own toilets?”
He snorted a laugh. “Whatever you want.”
* * *
When we reached the event,I could see why Albert had brought the Limo tonight instead of the town car—appearances.
When Evan had mentioned the press, his comment hadn’t prepared me for this. We were fourth in line behind other limos depositing couples at the base of a literal red carpet.
Red velvet ropes kept the public at a discreet distance, but the camera hyenas were inside the ropes accompanied by newsies with big microphones. As I watched, the guest couples moved from one gaggle of press to the next.
We inched forward, and the next thing I knew, Evan had extracted me from the car and towed me along with him to the first group of press. “Smile constantly, and it’ll be over in no time,” he said into my ear. “Her name is Zenia.”
Zenia, I repeated silently to remember it.
“And here we have Evan McAllister,” Zenia said before shoving her microphone in his face. “Evan, so nice to see you again. Tell us, why are you here supporting big Apple Helping Hands tonight?”
“Thank you Zenia,” he said with the polished grace only repetition could provide. “My mother is a founding board member of the organization. Providing assistance to the less fortunate in our city is a worthy goal that our family has proudly supported from the outset of this program.”
“And who have you brought along tonight?” Zenia asked.
Evan canted his body toward mine. “This lovely lady is my girlfriend, Alexa.”
