How To: Hitch a Breeder - Step 3/15
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[ previous chapters ]
Step 3: Eliminate Obstacles / Of Girlfriends and Sell-Outs
Justin was not excited about the prospect of his night. But his involvement with Kinnetik had just landed him a big commission deal and he could suffer through one evening for that.
“Don’t pout,” Daphne told him, handing over his suit jacket. “Have I mentioned how proud of you I am?”
Justin had to grin as he pushed his arms through the sleeves and checked his reflection in the mirror. He’d never known anyone as supportive as Daphne. He was so lucky to have her. She looked gorgeous in her black dress - very elegant, yet not too overstated. Justin told her so and she twirled an extra round. “How’s it feel trading your sweatpants and Carnegie Mellon shirts for fancy attire?”
“Pretty great,” Daphne admitted. She had been slaving away for her master’s thesis for the past couple of weeks and practically didn’t do anything besides brooding over her books and feeding her laptop typed data. The little time she actually spent away from the dining table and its newly acquired function as a desk was to bring books back to the college library and borrow an entire stack of others. There had been days when Justin left an already computer-booting, page-flipping Daphne for work around 8am and when he came home ten hours later, he found her in the exact same position he’d left her in.
She obviously craved change badly, otherwise she’d never have agreed to accompanying Justin to this business function so easily. Especially since Justin had spent the better part of the past week venting about the client.
Robin Zamora was a stuck-up snob, who had made his money by selling out all that was dear to his father and former CEO of the family company. It had worked out well for Robin, and the company was now a multi-million dollar concern that brought in one of the state’s highest revenues every year. It also added considerably to the downsides of globalization, the cracking investment markets and the environmental pollution.
Daphne had called Justin a wannabe-tree-hugger when he gave her that list.
Mr. Zamora was also the guy who paid Kinnetik, and therefore, BastArtDize Designs quite a load of money to promote his crude, capitalistic methods. He was the same guy Justin had to pretend to like at tonight’s event, where Robin showed off his personal art collection that he so generously lent to one of the local galleries.
Whenever Justin would feel like a sell-out he told himself that once he’d earned enough money and some status, he would only work for companies that gave him a good conscience dealing with. Right. Just like he was going to only buy fair trade cotton clothes and stop supporting Nestlé once he was out of college.
“You ready to go and schmooze up the mighty and evil?” he asked.
“Wait, will I have to actually talk to those people?”
“Nah, don’t worry. You’re just the arm candy.”
Daphne hit Justin in the arm with her tiny purse and off they went.
+
The place sucked. No, actually, the place didn’t - the people did. Justin grabbed another one of the champagne glasses that were constantly being circulated around the room and surveyed the scenery while sipping.
He didn’t even like champagne.
Mr. Kinney had been giving him odd looks throughout the evening and Justin didn’t know where to put either of them. They ranged from appearing almost hostile to some kind of intense staring, from which Mr. Kinney would seem to snap out of before turning away again. Justin had told Daphne about those intense looks he felt he’d been getting, but as usual, impressions of such kind tended to sound rather ridiculous when you said them out loud.
Daphne had spent most of the evening so far chatting with Ted and his partner, Blake. She’d given up trying to coerce Justin into joining their little elusive circle about an hour ago and Justin hoped Ted and Blake didn’t take it personally. It was just that Ted seemed to always be in Mr. Kinney’s proximity, swarming out to his side whenever figures were talked, and as a result, so was the group.
Justin was surprised that people spent as little time looking - or feigning to look - at the art. After all, one might think that this was what the evening was about. Only, it wasn’t, of course. It was about Zamora being a prepotent jerk, about the gallery owner’s lips being glued to his ass, and about everyone else attending to their contacts.
Sipping on his champagne, Justin scanned the room again. Tonight was the fourth time he saw Mr. Kinney. The fifth, if one counted that one time on the street when he recognized him from afar. The book shop Justin had ducked into in a touch of inexplicable behavior had turned out to be really nice, though. He even found that special edition of Fahrenheit 451 he’d meant to keep an eye open for.
Justin forced his eyes away from the designer suit-clad back and watched the phony gallery owner talking to one of the wives, who nodded at the right moments but who also looked like she was mapping out escape routes in her head.
From afar, Justin actually found that quite entertaining.
“Ten bucks says she’s gonna excuse herself to the bathroom in the next two minutes, even though I know she went not half an hour ago because I ran into her in the hallway.”
Justin hadn’t known that gulping down champagne could be so hard. He’d done so well before. When he finally managed, he gave what he hoped was an unimpressed smile. “Hi.” Justin was sure he just strained something in his throat.
“Hey.”
“Are you enjoying the evening?”
Mr. Kinney scoffed. “You mean as little as you?” he asked, snagging a glass of champagne from one of the ever-present trays.
Justin felt a beginning flush betraying him.
“Don’t worry, I get it. It should be about the work you’re doing, not about the ass you’re kissing.”
“Thank you.” Justin sighed, relieved. “I just never attended an event of this kind before so I didn’t really know what to expect.”
“I figured. I had to learn to endure the superficial socializing and keep my mouth shut, too.” He smiled then, and Justin wondered if the champagne in his stomach was planning a putsch.
“So. At least you’re enjoying the art, right? I noticed you were one of the handful of people to actually take a look.”
“Oh, yes, I am. Although I’m really surprised that no one would make a deal about the De Kooning over there. I almost dropped my glass when I spotted the tag.” And Justin had almost started a conversation with Mr. Zamora because of it. Almost.
“De Kooning, huh? I bet everybody here just knows to avoid the topic by now. This isn’t the first of Zamora’s glamorous displays.”
Justin found the client’s name sounding a great deal nicer from Mr. Kinney’s mouth. “Well, one of De Kooning’s works sold for over 120 millions in an auction a couple of weeks ago, so I’d think it would still be a big deal that he has a work of the same artist in his possession.”
Mr. Kinney frowned and took a gulp of champagne. “Shit, 120 millions?”
“Yep.”
“On second thought, this one’s probably a fake.”
“Yeah?” Justin asked, amused.
“Either that or we’re charging him too fucking little.”
“Fake, then.”
“Definitely,” Mr. Kinney confirmed.
Justin felt the smile on his face and realized it was probably his first genuine one tonight. He wondered if Mr. Kinney noticed, for he stared at him for a couple of seconds. There was something like astonishm-no, Justin was clearly imagining that. He blinked and looked away.
Mr. Kinney cleared his throat. “Is it me or does this champagne taste like shit?”
“It kind of does. But it’s still a great deal better than the punch.”
Both their gazes landed on the punch bowl across the room just as Daphne turned to get herself a glass.
+
“You should probably warn her,” Brian advised. He liked the sound of Justin’s answering laugh.
“I believe this is one of those things everybody has to learn on their own.” Justin grinned. “It will harden her for the real world.”
“Tough love, huh? I feel for your girlfriend,” Brian tried to mock and then the button on his sleeve demanded to be fixed right away.
“Oh, well,…”
“Hey!”
“Oh, hi, what’s up?”
There was a strange pitch in Justin’s voice and Brian wondered what that was about.
“Just wanted to check up on you,” Daphne said and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She then turned to Brian and held out her hand. “Daphne Chanders, Mr. Kinney. I’m sorry we haven’t been introduced properly. Justin isn’t the smoothest at these events.”
“Pleasure.” Brian lightly shook the offered hand. The only thing he could concentrate on, though, was how her arm looped itself through Justin’s.
Intended for Justin’s ears only obviously, Daphne said something about getting up early and brunch at mom’s place, and Brian was still staring at their linked arms as he processed the brunch info.
“Mr. Kinney, it was nice meeting you,” caused him to snap out of it. He smiled at Daphne, said some form of goodbye to Justin and tried not to stare as the latter made the rounds before heading out.
Well, at least Brian had his answer.
Not that there was ever any question.
+
Justin threw his suit jacket into the backseat and banged the door shut. “Thank god, we’re finally out of there. Twenty minutes longer and I would’ve told everyone you’re having cramps.”
Daphne chuckled and got into the passenger seat. When Justin got in as well, she hit him with her purse.
“What? I have a right to use that. After all, it is me who has to go out in the middle of the night getting your stupid cramp voodoo tea and your tampons, because you are, and I quote, dying, and the suffering was all for nothing since you won’t live to have kids.”
“Not everything herbal or homeopathic is voodoo, Justin. You men are just ignorant.”
“That we are.” Justin put the clutch in reverse and maneuvered them out of the parking lot. He heard Daphne taking a breath and sighed. He knew what was to come.
“I’d like to see you dealing with my cramps for one hour. Honestly, one hour, Justin, and you’d build me a shrine!”
He rolled his eyes and cast a quick glance at Daphne rummaging through the glove compartment. She came up with a pack of gum just as they left the parking garage.
“Give me one.”
“No,” she said decisively. “Ask nicely and I will consider giving you one.”
“Would you please let me have a piece of gum from the pack I bought?” That got him a strip of gum.
Daphne leaned back in her seat and stared out of the window. “That Kinney guy is hot, huh?”
A chuckle. “How am I supposed to respond to this?”
“Oh, forget it.” Daphne patted Justin’s thigh. “I’m kind of hungry. That buffet sucked.”
“You won’t hear me arguing there. What’s the time? Maybe we can still order some pizza? Or do you want to stop somewhere?”
“Nah, let’s just cram out some party leftovers from the freezer. We have to start eating that stuff at some point.”
[ Step 4 ]
[ previous chapters ]
Step 3: Eliminate Obstacles / Of Girlfriends and Sell-Outs
Justin was not excited about the prospect of his night. But his involvement with Kinnetik had just landed him a big commission deal and he could suffer through one evening for that.
“Don’t pout,” Daphne told him, handing over his suit jacket. “Have I mentioned how proud of you I am?”
Justin had to grin as he pushed his arms through the sleeves and checked his reflection in the mirror. He’d never known anyone as supportive as Daphne. He was so lucky to have her. She looked gorgeous in her black dress - very elegant, yet not too overstated. Justin told her so and she twirled an extra round. “How’s it feel trading your sweatpants and Carnegie Mellon shirts for fancy attire?”
“Pretty great,” Daphne admitted. She had been slaving away for her master’s thesis for the past couple of weeks and practically didn’t do anything besides brooding over her books and feeding her laptop typed data. The little time she actually spent away from the dining table and its newly acquired function as a desk was to bring books back to the college library and borrow an entire stack of others. There had been days when Justin left an already computer-booting, page-flipping Daphne for work around 8am and when he came home ten hours later, he found her in the exact same position he’d left her in.
She obviously craved change badly, otherwise she’d never have agreed to accompanying Justin to this business function so easily. Especially since Justin had spent the better part of the past week venting about the client.
Robin Zamora was a stuck-up snob, who had made his money by selling out all that was dear to his father and former CEO of the family company. It had worked out well for Robin, and the company was now a multi-million dollar concern that brought in one of the state’s highest revenues every year. It also added considerably to the downsides of globalization, the cracking investment markets and the environmental pollution.
Daphne had called Justin a wannabe-tree-hugger when he gave her that list.
Mr. Zamora was also the guy who paid Kinnetik, and therefore, BastArtDize Designs quite a load of money to promote his crude, capitalistic methods. He was the same guy Justin had to pretend to like at tonight’s event, where Robin showed off his personal art collection that he so generously lent to one of the local galleries.
Whenever Justin would feel like a sell-out he told himself that once he’d earned enough money and some status, he would only work for companies that gave him a good conscience dealing with. Right. Just like he was going to only buy fair trade cotton clothes and stop supporting Nestlé once he was out of college.
“You ready to go and schmooze up the mighty and evil?” he asked.
“Wait, will I have to actually talk to those people?”
“Nah, don’t worry. You’re just the arm candy.”
Daphne hit Justin in the arm with her tiny purse and off they went.
+
The place sucked. No, actually, the place didn’t - the people did. Justin grabbed another one of the champagne glasses that were constantly being circulated around the room and surveyed the scenery while sipping.
He didn’t even like champagne.
Mr. Kinney had been giving him odd looks throughout the evening and Justin didn’t know where to put either of them. They ranged from appearing almost hostile to some kind of intense staring, from which Mr. Kinney would seem to snap out of before turning away again. Justin had told Daphne about those intense looks he felt he’d been getting, but as usual, impressions of such kind tended to sound rather ridiculous when you said them out loud.
Daphne had spent most of the evening so far chatting with Ted and his partner, Blake. She’d given up trying to coerce Justin into joining their little elusive circle about an hour ago and Justin hoped Ted and Blake didn’t take it personally. It was just that Ted seemed to always be in Mr. Kinney’s proximity, swarming out to his side whenever figures were talked, and as a result, so was the group.
Justin was surprised that people spent as little time looking - or feigning to look - at the art. After all, one might think that this was what the evening was about. Only, it wasn’t, of course. It was about Zamora being a prepotent jerk, about the gallery owner’s lips being glued to his ass, and about everyone else attending to their contacts.
Sipping on his champagne, Justin scanned the room again. Tonight was the fourth time he saw Mr. Kinney. The fifth, if one counted that one time on the street when he recognized him from afar. The book shop Justin had ducked into in a touch of inexplicable behavior had turned out to be really nice, though. He even found that special edition of Fahrenheit 451 he’d meant to keep an eye open for.
Justin forced his eyes away from the designer suit-clad back and watched the phony gallery owner talking to one of the wives, who nodded at the right moments but who also looked like she was mapping out escape routes in her head.
From afar, Justin actually found that quite entertaining.
“Ten bucks says she’s gonna excuse herself to the bathroom in the next two minutes, even though I know she went not half an hour ago because I ran into her in the hallway.”
Justin hadn’t known that gulping down champagne could be so hard. He’d done so well before. When he finally managed, he gave what he hoped was an unimpressed smile. “Hi.” Justin was sure he just strained something in his throat.
“Hey.”
“Are you enjoying the evening?”
Mr. Kinney scoffed. “You mean as little as you?” he asked, snagging a glass of champagne from one of the ever-present trays.
Justin felt a beginning flush betraying him.
“Don’t worry, I get it. It should be about the work you’re doing, not about the ass you’re kissing.”
“Thank you.” Justin sighed, relieved. “I just never attended an event of this kind before so I didn’t really know what to expect.”
“I figured. I had to learn to endure the superficial socializing and keep my mouth shut, too.” He smiled then, and Justin wondered if the champagne in his stomach was planning a putsch.
“So. At least you’re enjoying the art, right? I noticed you were one of the handful of people to actually take a look.”
“Oh, yes, I am. Although I’m really surprised that no one would make a deal about the De Kooning over there. I almost dropped my glass when I spotted the tag.” And Justin had almost started a conversation with Mr. Zamora because of it. Almost.
“De Kooning, huh? I bet everybody here just knows to avoid the topic by now. This isn’t the first of Zamora’s glamorous displays.”
Justin found the client’s name sounding a great deal nicer from Mr. Kinney’s mouth. “Well, one of De Kooning’s works sold for over 120 millions in an auction a couple of weeks ago, so I’d think it would still be a big deal that he has a work of the same artist in his possession.”
Mr. Kinney frowned and took a gulp of champagne. “Shit, 120 millions?”
“Yep.”
“On second thought, this one’s probably a fake.”
“Yeah?” Justin asked, amused.
“Either that or we’re charging him too fucking little.”
“Fake, then.”
“Definitely,” Mr. Kinney confirmed.
Justin felt the smile on his face and realized it was probably his first genuine one tonight. He wondered if Mr. Kinney noticed, for he stared at him for a couple of seconds. There was something like astonishm-no, Justin was clearly imagining that. He blinked and looked away.
Mr. Kinney cleared his throat. “Is it me or does this champagne taste like shit?”
“It kind of does. But it’s still a great deal better than the punch.”
Both their gazes landed on the punch bowl across the room just as Daphne turned to get herself a glass.
+
“You should probably warn her,” Brian advised. He liked the sound of Justin’s answering laugh.
“I believe this is one of those things everybody has to learn on their own.” Justin grinned. “It will harden her for the real world.”
“Tough love, huh? I feel for your girlfriend,” Brian tried to mock and then the button on his sleeve demanded to be fixed right away.
“Oh, well,…”
“Hey!”
“Oh, hi, what’s up?”
There was a strange pitch in Justin’s voice and Brian wondered what that was about.
“Just wanted to check up on you,” Daphne said and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She then turned to Brian and held out her hand. “Daphne Chanders, Mr. Kinney. I’m sorry we haven’t been introduced properly. Justin isn’t the smoothest at these events.”
“Pleasure.” Brian lightly shook the offered hand. The only thing he could concentrate on, though, was how her arm looped itself through Justin’s.
Intended for Justin’s ears only obviously, Daphne said something about getting up early and brunch at mom’s place, and Brian was still staring at their linked arms as he processed the brunch info.
“Mr. Kinney, it was nice meeting you,” caused him to snap out of it. He smiled at Daphne, said some form of goodbye to Justin and tried not to stare as the latter made the rounds before heading out.
Well, at least Brian had his answer.
Not that there was ever any question.
+
Justin threw his suit jacket into the backseat and banged the door shut. “Thank god, we’re finally out of there. Twenty minutes longer and I would’ve told everyone you’re having cramps.”
Daphne chuckled and got into the passenger seat. When Justin got in as well, she hit him with her purse.
“What? I have a right to use that. After all, it is me who has to go out in the middle of the night getting your stupid cramp voodoo tea and your tampons, because you are, and I quote, dying, and the suffering was all for nothing since you won’t live to have kids.”
“Not everything herbal or homeopathic is voodoo, Justin. You men are just ignorant.”
“That we are.” Justin put the clutch in reverse and maneuvered them out of the parking lot. He heard Daphne taking a breath and sighed. He knew what was to come.
“I’d like to see you dealing with my cramps for one hour. Honestly, one hour, Justin, and you’d build me a shrine!”
He rolled his eyes and cast a quick glance at Daphne rummaging through the glove compartment. She came up with a pack of gum just as they left the parking garage.
“Give me one.”
“No,” she said decisively. “Ask nicely and I will consider giving you one.”
“Would you please let me have a piece of gum from the pack I bought?” That got him a strip of gum.
Daphne leaned back in her seat and stared out of the window. “That Kinney guy is hot, huh?”
A chuckle. “How am I supposed to respond to this?”
“Oh, forget it.” Daphne patted Justin’s thigh. “I’m kind of hungry. That buffet sucked.”
“You won’t hear me arguing there. What’s the time? Maybe we can still order some pizza? Or do you want to stop somewhere?”
“Nah, let’s just cram out some party leftovers from the freezer. We have to start eating that stuff at some point.”
[ Step 4 ]