The Night Is Young

Tag hot guy @ Mason

With a glass of champagne in her hand, dressed in a sparkly red number and a bored expression on her face, Rebecca stood at one of the full length windows and stared down. The city of Vancouver was sprawled beneath her, covered by a cloud of darkness. Dotted with street lights and Christmas decorations. She leaned her head against the cold window and sighed. Christmas was her favorite time of year. The sparkle of a million lights, the smell of pine trees and the taste of hot chocolate with a healthy helping of whipped cream and Bailey's. My favorite. Thou this champagne is excellent... She sipped her glass and turned to glance at the people around her.

Rebecca was at a Christmas party, hosted by some big firm. Her father, Mitchell Everett, had insisted she come along. Claiming it would be a good opportunity for her to mingle and meet some interesting people. Which was code for getting herself seen and hoping she'd land an internship. Or landing myself in bed with one of them... she thought with a grin. Another sip of champagne, her glass was nearly empty.

The room was filled with stuffy old people who where dreadfully boring. Rebecca had made several attempt to engage in a conversation with one of them. But they had all ended with boring business talk or futile attempts from them to get into her pants. And their such cute panties... Rebecca preferred it the other way around. She had no problem getting into their pants, but so far, no one had been worthy enough to even merit a second glance.

Another sip and her glass was empty. Rebecca held onto the empty glass as she waited for a waiter to come her way.

The good thing about knowing everyone worth knowing in a city as big as Vancouver, is that you always get invited to every party that is thrown. More often than not, Brandon found himself declining invitations in favour of larger happenings, or bringing along a selection of guests from party A to party B.

Tonight was no different, Around Christmas time, invitations kept pouring in and his secretary had a very hard time matching schedules to create the biggest spread. She did do an amazing job however and he was grateful for her work. Without her, he'd just pick the first card off the stack, dress for the occasion and show up, regardless of the consequences.

Introductions were made and connections rekindled. Hi's, bye's and see-you-soons left right and centre.. 'We should talk business' was an often heard phrase. People at a party like this knew Brandon. Not just that, they needed him to retain their success.

Brandon Devereaux. Fixer of all things important.

Dressed in one of his many suits, adorned with a bright red tie and handkerchief, Brandon enjoyed a moment of silence. He'd used an unguarded moment to escape from the crowds and snuck out onto the roof terrace. With a martini in his hand, he vaguely heard murmurs from the function room above him. Through glass windows, he could see men and women mingle. Some jolly, some serious. Some kind, some touchy.

One woman in particular seemed less inclined to join the festivities. Her little red dress shone brightly in the reflection of the moonlight and from his reclining position on one of the loungers, the investor had an incredible view of a long pair of legs that seemed endless. He touted his lips and let out a low whistle, casting appreciative looks upwards.

He waited a moment and watched as her glass remained empty. Waiters were rushing around the place, refilling glasses everywhere. But, as the young woman had wandered away from the crowds a little, she often escaped the attention of the staff.

With his free hand, he pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolled through the phone book and dialled a number. "Mason, hi, it's Brandon. You up in the Clarke Christmas do by any chance? Look down at your outdoor pool for a moment please." A moment later, the hotel owner appeared at one of the windows. The two men waved at each other.

"Do me a favour if you would. Twenty feet to your left there's a very lovely young lady in a stunning red dress. She's been waiting for a refill for at least three minutes. Your staff is slacking." Brandon witnessed the man upstairs mimic the lashing of a whip and they both laughed. "Exactly. Before you do that, can you personally provide her with a refill? I bet she'd like that." In his best British accent, Brandon thanked the host for the night. "Cheers mate, I owe you."

The redhead sighed as she waited for a waitress to come her way. Rebecca had wandered away from the hustle of the party, sure. But she wasn't completely out of sight, so this waiting game... very unnecessary. If there was one thing her father had tried to teach her, it was that time was off the essence and should never be spoiled. Time is money. Rebecca chuckled. But I'm so good at wasting time...and money. With a quick glance around, Becca figured that -whomever was hosting this party- was also very good at spending money. By the busload, it seemed.

Just then, a waitress flew by her. "Excuse me, miss..." Rebecca held up her glass, but the waitress was too busy to notice. The blond girl flew right by her, throwing her a glance and an apologetic smile. Well... "How rude..." Becca muttered, lowering her glass. And her expectations of the night. With a sigh she strolled to the nearest table and set the empty glass down. Clutching her purse, she looked over her shoulder to try and locate the nearest exit.

When she spotted it, Becca flicked her red curls off her shoulder and headed towards it.

With a deep sigh, Mason hung up the phone. Barely visible, he shook his head while looking at the guy lounging out on his deck. "Brandon, you're an ass." But he was right. Someone was going to have to pay. Tonight, at least one waitress wouldn't be too happy.

His lean finger touched the smooth screen to open the app that was designed for his establishments. Scanning the room, he located a waiter carrying a tray with some full glasses and pressed his name on the phone. Immediately he saw the young man look up, search for his employer and start towards him.

"You buzzed, sir?" Modern technology stood for nothing. Every staff member had a vibrating device sown into their jacket which sent a little trigger as soon as Mason would press his or her name. That way, he could easily draw the attention of any one of his employees without having to shout out.

"Thanks Jason. I'll have one of your glasses. And can you please take over this area of the venue? Caroline is slacking." He reached for a stem and turned around to approach the now moving redhead. The blond haired waiter knew he'd have to step up his game, unless he wanted to suffer the same fate as his colleague would.

He spoke as soon as he was within earshot, which happened to be fairly close to have his voice not drown into the buzz of all visitors.

"Miss Everett. I'm very sorry to notice you are without any refreshments. May I personally offer you one?"

At the sound of a voice, Rebecca stopped moving and turned around. Finally someone noticed... A pleasant smile graced her lips. Oh hello... The man didn't look familiar, but it didn't matter. He was gorgeous. "I am, thank you." she reached for the glass and brushed her fingers against his. "How kind of you to notice, Mister..." With one glance she realized he probably wasn't staff. He didn't look nearly as stuck up and stressed out as some of the waiting staff she'd seen during the evening. So he was probably a guest.

After the man approached, Rebecca noticed a change in the staff. She caught of a few of them pulling on hems of clothing, backs straightened. They generally appeared to be stepping up their game. He must be some hot shot... She glanced from Mason to them and back. Am I supposed to recognize him... Rebecca got the daunting feeling that she should, but for the life of her couldn't remember where she'd seen him last. I'll apologize if it turns out that I should. For the moment she played it cool, only letting her eyes roam over him and ignoring the nervous flutter of staff behind him.

”Stone. Mason Stone.” He watched the young woman look around and followed her. Anxious glances were thrown their – more precisely, his – way. She seemed confused about it more than anything else and the owner didn’t like to brag, so he left it at that.

”I noticed you standing here all alone, which doesn’t seem right for a lady as lovely as yourself.” Brandon would want him to make sure that he wouldn’t be stepping on any toes, not with a room full of influential people. ”Are you enjoying yourself tonight? Is anything lacking for you?”

Their eyes met for a moment, when Rebecca noticed Mason was following her gaze. "I'm Rebecca." she offered, holding up her hand for him to shake. The glass of champagne was in her other hand, delicate fingers wrapped around the stem.

"You noticed that, did you? That's sweet." she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip. "This is excellent champagne. As is the rest of this place... if there's something lacking?" Rebecca stepped towards the window and glanced around. The world outside was beautiful. What could possibly be lacking? As she looked down, a man sitting by the pool all by himself caught her attention. What's he doing down there? For a moment she stared, then the man at the pool lifted his head and turned it in her direction. Rebecca held his gaze before looking away. "Everything is perfect."

Brandon had been watching the young woman and the hotel's owner from his chair two floors below, until a noise of a window or door closing had distracted him. When he looked back, he noticed he was being watched, and he watched in return, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Wow, you are drop dead gorgeous," he muttered to himself, breaking the silence of the night. "Mason, hurry up and get her to come down here."

He watched the side of her face as she kept her eyes on the man outside. You were right, he silently agreed with his friend. She is pretty.

"It's my job to notice these kind of things, ma'am. Otherwise I wouldn't have been very good at it." He smiled as she focused back on him.

"Although, truth be told, that fine fellow over there" - he twitched his head towards the window - "did insist I'd offer you this drink personally, instead of sending over one of my waiters."

Turning to face the window, he pocketed both his hands and looked out across the deck and Vancouver behind it. A flash of pride always presented itself on the rare moments he actually had the time to admire the things he'd accomplished.

"It is a rather beautiful night, isn't it?" The question was rethorical and before he could elaborate, the sound of a throat clearing made him turn around.

"Ah, Jason. Just a moment." Mason lowered his head a little towards the young woman and smiled. "Alas, duty calls. You will enjoy it for me too, I hope?" Before she could answer, he directed his attention back onto his waiter and they set off towards the crowd together.

To say she was confused, would be an understatement. With the drink in her hand, and a confused smile on her lips, Rebecca listened to Mason speak. The first thing she realized that, even thou he had told her his name, it still sounded foreign to her. Which Becca thought was strange, with her father being who he was, Rebecca prided herself on knowing most of the people he worked with. But then Mason went on to mention a man on the patio below, him being the one who had send her the drink. "I don't understand..." the redhead muttered, a frown on her forehead. She followed Mason's gaze and looked back to the man downstairs. They had shared a moment earlier that wasn't a coincidence?

"One of my waiters..." she repeated. And then something clicked. But as it did, Mason excused himself and walked away. "I ehm... thank you." Baffled by his sudden exit, Rebecca watched him go. She wondered about his name for a moment more. His waiters, was what he had said. So he worked there? Maybe he owns the place? Her eyes drifted down to the man by the pool, when it suddenly came to her. -That- Mason Stone, of course... Now she remembered where she'd seen his face before. In a magazine on the coffee table at the salon. A big piece, pretty pictures of his hotel. "Of course..." Becca muttered to herself before sipping her champagne. She smiled softly at the taste of it. Then remembered the sender.

Rebecca took the elevator down to the pool level, pushed through the glass double doors and walked onto the deck. The champagne was already half gone by the time she reached him. "Good evening. I hear you are to thank for this..." she said, holding up her drink and smiling at him.

For a brief moment, Brandon wondered whether the woman would appear on the deck. It only took him a few minutes, but he knew the hotel pretty well. After all, he'd been the one to close the deal with the Four Seasons - the former owners of the building - in the first place when Mason and his associate came to him for advice.

He didn't need to wait long. The self made man watched the doors open and by far the most splendidly dressed lady of the evening walk through them. The way she walked on those heels, he could only appreciate her more. What confidence. He started smiling long before she reached him.

"An even better evening now that you're out here," Brandon greeted her. "Well, Mason was kind enough to bring it over, but yes, I asked him. You see..." He looked around him over the deck, out over Vancouver on the one end and endless amounts of water on the other.

"I didn 't want to give up this amazing spot here to someone else, but did want you to be able to enjoy it with me. So my apologies for the somewhat... odd way of getting you a drink."

His friendly face showed another smile as he was the first to introduce himself when he extended his hand. "Brandon Devereaux. At your service."

Taking a step closer, Rebecca took his extended hand in hers and squeezed it. ”Rebecca Everett, nice to meet you.” as always, her mind raced to place his name. But as he smiled, her train of thought was quickly derailed. Suddenly it didn't seem all that important to know who he was or where he'd come from. He was there. Smiling at her. Offering her drinks. How very romantic of him.

Glancing around, Rebecca returned her smile. ”The view is amazing, I understand your desire to stay put.” she sipped her drink and rounded the lounger where he was sitting, walking over to the one beside him and setting her glass down. ”Do you mind if I sit?” Rebecca waited a beat or two for his reply, but assumed he'd be fine with it. He did after all send her a drink. Gracefully the redhead sat down, inched herself back onto the lounger, stretching one leg in front of her and the other bended slightly at the knee. The skirt of her dress blew up a little, so Rebecca placed her hands in her lap in an attempt to keep it from blowing up too much. Let's not flash the good man... ”So I imagine you weren't enjoying the party too much... seeing as you're out here all by yourself?”

Brandon casually glanced away at the view as the young woman sat down. I've seen enough of her legs whil she was still up there. Lets be a gentleman down here.

"Oh you know, the thing with these parties... I know everyone here. I know their job, their company, their bosses - if they have any." He brought the glass to his lips and drank a slow sip.

"But at the same time, I don't know them. Like, personally." He pointed at a bolding man walking passed the window a floor up, crossing the space that the woman had occupied herself a few minutes ago.

"That's Will, short for William. He's nearing seventy himself, but still works for the company that his great grandfather started in the late eighteen-hundreds. Keeps a keen eye on the books a couple of hours a week."

Brandon looked back at Rebecca. "I see him about once a month on some meeting or another. But I don't have a clue about whether his married, has kids, likes golf, listens to jazz... It's all so superficial."

"So, nah, I'm not that much of a partying socialiser." Another sip of drink went down his throat, before he turned the conversation back to her. "So what about you? You looked rather lonely?"

Hearing Brandon talk, gave Rebecca the impression that he was someone important. A CEO over maybe even higher up. Definitely someone at the top of the food chain... He seemed to know everyone, which he pointed out by sharing with her some information about another man. Rebecca glanced up as she listened to Brandon. "I can imagine this would be frustrating... my father employs lots of people, I'm sure he shares your sentiment."

Rebecca reached for her drink and took a sip, before smiling. "There's not much to know about little ol' me." she sighed. "I was coerced into coming along. To mingle. To get myself out there and to bring my intellect under the attention of other CEO's." she rattled off. Basically quoting her father. "But so far... there's been plenty of men interested in talking to me. None wanted to know about my intellect..."

Brandon smiled and nodded. I know exactly what men are interested in when it comes to you. Because for all his manners, there was no way he wasn't also appreciative of her incredible looks. And that dress doesn't help.

"Well, you can't blame a man for trying, I guess. Not dressed to kill like you are. You wouldn't misstand being a Bond-girl."

He winked, swirled his drink and sipped it.

"So right, daddy's girl then? Or just haven't found your wings yet?"

The now famous-in-some-circles fixer knew all about not being able to escape the harsh reality that could be fathers. It took him a while to get away from his, but he never regretted taking the step. I'm way better off now than I would have been had I stayed.

Rebecca chuckled, "You're definitely a charmer, aren't you Mister Devereaux?" a sweet smile danced across her painted lips. "But I must agree. I would look dazzling in a golden swimsuit." With a grin she added, "I'll be the first one that isn't on the side of evil... and who doesn't die in the end." Leaning back in her seat she gave it some more thought. "You'd make an excellent Mister Bond. All sleek and smooth like that..."

At his comment about her being a daddy's girl, Rebecca shot him a look. "I am not a daddy's girl, thank you very much." This had made the girl a little huffy. "I studied hard to get out from under his wing, but in one way or the other... he always manages to suck me back in. I have no life, apparently. Because he drags me off to events like these whenever he damn well pleases." shaking her head a little, Rebecca downed the remainder of her drink and set the empty glass away.

"Well, you wouldn't be the first actually. But hey, who's counting when you would be the prettiest?" The question was as rethorical as her own and his smile equaled hers. "I'll do my very best not to get you killed, that's for sure."

Brandon listened intently to the woman's words. Their conversation so far had been yoyoing on the level of seriousness, but that was good.

"I see, that must be a hell of an annoyance for you. I can imagine you wanting to show him you're more than capable to look after yourself."

He looked up and scouted the windows for a waiter. Drawing one's attention, he signalled for another round of drinks before smiling back at the woman sitting next to him.

"Now, I'm not going to ask you any questions on 'have you tried this' or 'have you said that', because I'm pretty sure that you've tried and said everything I can come up with." He finished his own drink and sat his glass next to hers.

"Instead, the better response would be: 'what do you need to go forward in your life?'" Brandon smiled again. "Apart from another drink, but I've got you covered there."

Rebecca nodded, "I've decided to make it my life's work." she chuckled, "Proving my father wrong..." As quickly as she had said the words, she longed to take them back. Because how pathetic must she seem to him, if all she aspired to become or accomplish, was to get out from under her father? "Of course that's not my only aspiration..." With a roll of her eyes she nodded to him. "Yes, every trick in the goddamn book. But he's just too smart, my old man. So wise for his years... with eyes and ears everywhere. There is no escaping him..."

With a sigh Rebecca slumped back into the chair, leaning her head against the seat and closing her eyes. "For all I know, he's got someone spying on me right now." Would his spies approve of my sitting here with him?

"What I need to go forward..." she repeated his words, letting them roll around in her mind in silence for a few minutes. Rebecca chuckled, "More alcohol to smooth me over and allow me to make less educated decisions... hmm yes, good choice."

Brandon hastily looked around him as if he were looking for unauthorised characters stalking the two loungers.

"I don't see anyone here but you and me." With a mysterious glance, he looked at the lady lounging next to him. "Although I might be one, you never know... I've always fancied myself to be some sort of member of a secret spy network."

He cocked his head at the approaching waiter. "So might he. But we'll just accept his drinks and send him on his way. No eavesdropping on you tonight."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow and opened her eyes as Brandon mentioned being a spy. A chuckled broke the moment of silence. ”Yes... I can see that...” she said, turning towards him with a half smile. She shifted in her seat, leaning on her elbow a little and turning her body towards him. If she had been wearing a dress with a low cut on the front, surely a boob would have popped out. Thank God for smarter choices in the wardrobe department...

Alright... for arguments sake.. let's pretend you are a spy... what would you be reporting to my father about? I've been a good girl... so far.” she pouted her lips for a moment in thought, ”Dear daddy would be disappointed.

As the waiter approached, Rebecca accepted a fresh glass of bubbly from him. Thanked the young man and watched as he went on his way. ”I could always give you something... something scandalous... so you can go running to daddy to report.

Thread Information

Published: 3 months ago

Posted by: Rebecca Everett

Reply-count: 19

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