Chapter 4 Part 1

Charlie

The impact from me crashing into the wall makes the drywall sound as if it’s cracking from the force. With hands flailing in the air scrambling all the papers, one piece somehow remains stuck to my cheek, which slowly falls off and lands in my lap after a few seconds of barely hanging on.

My dazed and confused voice answers the phone without knowing who it is since my eyes are watery from the bright light of the screen. “Hello.”

“Charlie, where the hell are you? I was banging on your door for like fifteen minutes. I’m on my way to the police station to file a missing persons report.” It isn’t the concern or anger in Juliet’s voice that makes me cringe, it’s the sheer loudness of her voice shocking my eardrums, causing them to ring.

“Juliet, calm down, I fell asleep at the office. What time is it?” I rub at my eyes, trying to wipe away the blurry vision in order to see the clock myself, but it’s just easier to ask.

“It’s past nine. What are you doing at the office anyways? I thought this weekend you intentionally gave yourself off.”

“I did, I just had a rough night last night and work puts my mind at ease. What’s the emergency anyways?” The slur of my slow paced words would make anyone believe that I was drinking instead of working. Well, sleeping.

“Rough night, huh? Not to mention, what kind of weirdo gets relaxed by work?” Juliet says jokingly even though she just insulted me.

“Not what you think, Juliet, and work is very relaxing. My job doesn’t involve whiny preteens, remember? Now what’s so important that you’re freaking out about?”

“Wow, you really did forget. The big party planner that turns into Hitler, who demands perfection along with following a precise timeline, forgot about her promise. Tomorrow is Harlow’s birthday party. We were supposed to talk over plans tonight.”

“Oh shit!” Sheer dread engulfs every inch of me at the realization that I forgot one of my friends’ birthdays. I’ve known about this surprise party for over a month and somehow it only took a visit from a true weirdo to make me forget.

“Please, tell me you made reservations at least.” Juliet might have been lighthearted moments prior, but now…now she’s more than serious.

“Of course I made reservations. I called the same day you told me about the party. I just forgot that it’s tomorrow. Trust me, I’ll have everything done and decorated by five o’clock tomorrow night. No need to discuss anything.”

“Are you sure? We don’t need to decorate.It can be the first casual party that you coordinate,” Juliet offers.

“Very funny, but I don’t do casual. I’m going to clean up here and go home. If it’ll make you feel better I’ll even set my alarm to wake me up extra early.” Which I’ll probably need, but decide not to share with her for the sake of not arguing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Juliet blurts out before she hangs up without anything further to say.

If I felt pressured before, I definitely feel pressured now. Needing to make this party more than spectacular weighs my heart down to where I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. Somehow doing friends' parties is more stressful than doing strangers' parties and the crazy part is those strangers are the ones who pay me to do something exceptional. Instantly, my fingers get busy by stacking all the loose papers that are scattered on the desk as well as the floor into a neat pile. Times like these would really help out to have everything electronically saved, but I’m old-fashioned and love the feel of a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Immediately, I arrive home to scavenge through all the closets for decorations. Thoughts of keeping the boxes and boxes of supplies at the office crosses my mind, but for some reason I find it easier to keep them at my house. Digging in each box only to end up tossing most of it aside, unable to use it, I gather only a few things that can be utilized.

The birthday girl, Harlow, has a very particular taste and in all of my years of doing parties, I’ve never done a party that would be approved by her. Juliet would be the best person to coordinate this given she’s been friends with Harlow since they were children, but being a professional planner people’s eyes automatically travel to me. I only became friends with Harlow when Juliet and myself became friends. Harlow was included in the friendship.

After hours of gathering streamers and a bunch of other decorations, the pull of sleep calls. Falling face first onto the bed, my eyes close instantly. The need to change out of my clothes doesn’t faze me and blankets are obsolete as I drift into blackness. Any fear from the night before is far in the back of my mind and even though a flicker of Maxwell crosses my thoughts, I’m still able to fall fast asleep.

It seems that just as fast as I closed my eyes it’s time for them to open. The alarm on my phone goes off, indicating that morning has arrived and I stretch my well rested muscles in relief. No dreams, no unexpected visitors, just good old sleep.

First thing first is to change out of the clothes I wore yesterday. Something stretchy and comfortable fits my mood perfectly. I pull my hair up into a bun and put on some mascara and lip gloss.

Once I enter the kitchen, I come to the conclusion that I still have a lot of work to do. Bagging up all the party supplies, stopping at the local party outlet, and making myself more presentable are key before I have to show up at the venue at least a couple of hours early to set up. Breakfast is fast and tasteless as my brain rattles through everything I need to do. Before I know it, though, I’m making several trips to my car, leaving me halfway done with preparations.

Three hours before the celebration is supposed to happen, I leave my house to make a quick stop to purchase balloons. With all errands completed, my final stop is the restaurant, one of the most trendy high-end restaurants in town.

I decide to park in the lot and walk instead of driving up to the valet. The large cream-colored building with tinted windows mocks me as I stare at it in my yoga pants and T-shirt. The servers are known to be quite sassy as they try to keep low scale individuals off the property.

With full hands, I spot an irritated Juliet by the doors. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I would help.” Juliet flings her hands out. She wants to help in her six inch heels and short mini skirt that barely covers her ass.

Without a choice, I have to agree. Even though her help will be useless and slow, I need all the hands I can get. “Okay, grab some balloons or bags from my car,” I retort by bossing her around.

Juliet obeys my orders, but not without grumbling. She’s no Morgan, that’s for sure. Deciding to wait outside the front doors for her to return, a huff of exhaustion rushes out of my clasped mouth. Juliet waddles in her heels up to the doors with one bag and a couple balloons in hand, while I have more than three bags on each arm. Thank God the doors are automatic or else I would have to ask Juliet to open them with her mighty full hands. The two of us walk up to the hostess in silence.

The very tall blonde gives me a disgusted look as she takes in my outfit. She twitches her head, causing the hair that’s over her shoulder to fly out. I’m not sure if she’s going for the slow motion hair toss, but the over exaggerated fanning of her hair is barely within my tolerance level.

“Welcome to Junction 22. What can I help you with?” she greets us, not in a very welcoming tone, but greets us nonetheless.

It takes a toll on me to ignore a person with such a big ego, but in an equally perky voice that sounds just as fake as hers, I respond, “We have reservations under Charlie Preston.”

“Right this way, Ms. Preston.” She keeps her eyes on the floor while she speaks to me. Her strut down the hallway resembles that of a supermodel and her big feet stomp on the hardwood floor, forming echoes to be heard throughout the restaurant. The urge to mock her behind her back is overbearing.

Seeing this is my first time inside the business, I’m dumbfounded and amazed at the same time. I was expecting a secluded room, but after entering the dining area, I notice nothing is secluded. The kitchen is in view, as glass like windows are the only thing to shield it from the customers and the waiter’s area is just a countertop, making a barrier at waist height.

A couple of hours before the dinner rush is to arrive leaves the dining space empty except for a few couples. Quickly checking my phone reveals that there are two hours before the guests are expected and with only a few minutes added on to that, Harlow will be arriving to be bombarded by the yells of ‘surprise’ in a packed dining area full of strangers. Sarcasm causes me to roll my eyes without even knowing it.

“Let’s get the rest of the things and get this place decorated,” I state in Juliet’s direction, who in response slumps her shoulders at the thought of more work. “What? You said you would help. Take your shoes off and let’s go.”

“Yes, Master.” Bending at the waist, Juliet bows in my direction. Her shuffling feet as she backs up reminds me of a retreating Igor.

All playful banter aside, I freeze. Those words bring me back to Friday night…okay, early morning when Maxwell showed up at my house. I called him Master as he ordered me to listen to him. Now is not the time to think about him, so I shake the memories aside. I haven’t seen him since and I hope it stays that way.

Juliet already left the room to head to the car, leaving her heels right in the middle of the walkway. In a rush to join her before she starts asking questions, I trip on them, almost toppling down. The table that catches me screeches against the floor, bringing some unwanted attention my way, but I just straighten myself up and strut out of the room, knowing that some of the waiters will most likely talk behind my back.

After four trips, we have all the bags and balloons inside. The parties I organized for work usually take hours to set up, but within an hour and a half the corner is clad in gold and black decorations. Harlow is a year or so older than Juliet and myself. Since this is her last birthday in her twenties, I found it fitting to decorate in over the hill colors but still a classy combination.

“Please tell me you have a change of clothes,” Juliet says, revolted.

“Do you think I’m stupid, seriously?” I hold up a reusable bag that I set off to the side. Without saying another word to Juliet, I walk to the bathroom, annoyed by her pure witlessness. Who does she take me for, an idiot?

It doesn’t take long for me to exchange my comfy clothes for some more fashionable clothing. For being such a fancy place you would think that their bathrooms would be exquisite, but they’re as average as something you would find in any local mall. Curiosity grows involving the men’s bathroom. One would think they would have an old man sitting there ready to hand you a towel after you’re done washing your hands.

Looking at my phone one last time before making my way back to Juliet, knowledge that the guests should be arriving soon jitters my nerves. Sure enough, when I finally walk into the dining area in my dangerously high heels a handful of guests are talking amongst themselves.

As the minutes tick down, Juliet gets a text from Brock, Harlow’s boyfriend, that they’re five minutes away from the restaurant. Everyone gets themselves situated as they cram in the corner. All nerves are on edge with anxiety and excitement, especially mine.

The dining area is getting fuller by the minute, but the strangers’ stares don’t deter us from yelling ‘surprise!’ when Harlow walks in being led by Brock. A beyond ecstatic birthday girl plows into Juliet and me since we’re right in front.

“Happy birthday,” Juliet and I say at the same time in Harlow’s tight grip. Her fake nails lightly dig into our shoulders, along with the occasional touch of her bare neck to each of our lips as she turns to give us individual hugs.

“Thank you, guys,” she says shyly with tears in her eyes. Quickly blinking them away, she leaves the two of us behind to greet the other guests. Brock follows, giving me a thumbs-up as he passes, expressing his approval as if it’s needed.

“Well, you did it,” Juliet admits, crossing her arms gently across her chest after Harlow and Brock are out of sight.

“Of course I did it. Did you ever doubt me?” I answer. Juliet perks one eyebrow up with skepticism. “Really?” Juliet’s lack of confidence in me is insulting since I get paid to do parties that are ten times more difficult than this.

Juliet’s laugh ruins my train of thought. “Just kidding,” she yells and runs away before I can come back with a snide remark.

Everybody is mingling and drinking, not to mention enjoying the great food, but all I can do is smile at people’s jokes and hug various bodies that compliment me on the party, without really knowing who they are. In fact, I only know a small portion of the guests. An overwhelming need to glance around the rest of the dining area controls my brain and tells my eyes what to do.

There’s people staring at our group in annoyance, along with curiosity. There’s also people who are totally ignoring our presence altogether. My eyes however keep searching, as if they have a mind of their own. As if they were looking for something in particular.

When they finally stop at a table along the far wall my heart stops beating and heat rises to my head. The top of my skull burns as all the blood rushes to the spot. Dizziness takes over just as my throat closes up, making me panic even more. It can’t be. It just can’t be. However, as the man turns ever so casually, I stare into his familiar dark brown eyes. Even from across the room, I can see him as clear as day. Maxwell.