Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

BLAKE

Being that Molly had to work, I decide to attend today's group activity by myself. It turns out it's a charades tournament. And while I like watching charades—because come on, it's hysterical—I hate playing.

Hoping to stay out of the action, I find a corner of the ballroom to sit in. Maybe if I keep my head down, no one will notice me.

Trina moves toward the fifteen people who have shown up and announces, "We need to break into four groups. The winner of the best two out of three will play the winner of the other group. The losers will play as well so we can determine all four places."

A woman I haven't talked to yet raises her hand. "What's the prize for first place?"

Trina tells her, "You get to eat dinner with our first bonafide couple of the event!" The group doesn't seem overly enamored with the idea, so Trina continues, "You can ask them all kinds of questions about how they knew they found the person they wanted to exclusively get to know better."

All I can think is, who in the world wants to eat with Olivia and Ronald? I mean, I'd seriously throw the game just to get out of that. Trina starts to create four teams but then realizes she's one person short. Instead of filling in herself, she looks around the room and points at me. "Blake, you're on team three!"

Scooting my chair closer to the wall, I tell her, "I'm not playing. I'm just watching."

Her eyes narrow menacingly before she orders, "No, you're playing. You're here in the room which means you're participating in today's activity."

I suddenly wonder if people wind up dating each other out of sheer fear of what Trina will do to them if they don't. Standing up, I slowly walk toward the group the matchmaker has declared mine.

When I get there, I introduce myself. "I'm Blake," I tell them.

The woman who wants to eat dinner with Olivia and Ronald as much as I do says, "I'm Maya." She points to the other pair. "Charlie and Sheryl." Without bothering to lower her voice, she adds, "I think they might be on the way to being the next couple of the event." Little does she know that Molly and I have already claimed that slot.

I nod my head toward Charlie, a ginger with a gigantic forehead, and then to Sheryl, who is a tiny mouse of a woman. She can't even be close to being five feet tall. "Hey," I tell them before confessing, "I'm really bad at this game."

Charlie waggles his enormous head back and forth cockily, while saying, "Don't worry, I own charades."

"Maybe you can play on your own then," I joke.

He doesn't think I'm funny and he tells me as much. "Ha, ha. I can't guess at my own performances."

I really should have not come to this today. But then, remembering why I'm here, I decide to make the most of it. "What do you do for a living, Charlie?"

"I'm a contortionist."

"Really?" A contortionist? I knew such people existed, but I've never met one before. "What do you do with that? "

He proudly tells me, "I work with a troupe. We hire ourselves out and perform at various functions."

I can't imagine what those would be, so I ask him, "Like the circus?"

"We've worked at the circus. We also do parties and conventions. Pretty much any place a singer would perform."

An image of Charlie opening for Hozier pops into my head, and I release a loud bark of laughter. I immediately feel bad and try to pawn it off as enthusiasm. "That's really cool, man!"

He doesn't seem convinced, but luckily the other team we're playing comes over. I know a couple of them from previous discussions. Emberly, a tall Black woman who looks like that 1980s super model Iman, announces, "Let's get going, I have a massage in two hours."

Please, God, do not let this last two full hours. I won't make it.

Charlie walks over to the table holding our box of clues and immediately takes one. The other team takes offense, and Emberly, their apparent leader, announces, "You don't just get to go first. We need to toss a coin or something."

Charlie puts the clue back before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a quarter. "Do you want to toss or call?" he asks her.

"You toss, I'll call," she says. When the coin is in the air, Emberly calls out, "Heads!" then switches that to, "I mean tails!"

When the coin lands, Charlie flips it over and gives the other team a death glare before saying, "It's heads. We go first." Then he walks over to the box and takes a clue. No one in our group contests the fact that Charlie will act first.

It turns out Maya is a vigorous charades player whose plan for success is to yell out as many guesses as she can before Charlie even starts. " Saved by the Bell ! Elton John! The Taj Mahal!"

I lean over and tell her, "Charlie is showing us that it's a book."

" The Brothers Karamazov ! The Shining ! Icebreakers !" Oh. My. God. The good news is there's no way I'm going to have to suffer through a meal with Ronald and Olivia because there's no way we're going to win.

True to my prediction, nearly three hours later, we are declared the fourth-place team and I'm finally put out of my misery. I leave the ballroom sure that I will never play this game again. Ever. Even if someone offered me a million dollars to do so.

By the time I get back to my room, I only have a few minutes to get ready for tonight's dinner and have to hurry with my shower. I change into a pair of black dress slacks that I pair with a light-weight turquoise cashmere sweater. Then I walk out the door.

I know I was supposed to meet Molly downstairs, but if she's in her room, there's no reason we shouldn't walk down together. After all, we're going to be the official second couple of the event and couples show up together.

I knock on her door and wait for a solid two minutes before knocking again. "Molly," I finally call out. Nothing. She must have already gone down, so I head toward the elevator on my own.

I feel happier than I've felt in a very long time—even though I've spent my afternoon playing a game that now rivals waterboarding in its level of appeal to me. By the time I walk back into the ballroom, I'm practically giddy with excitement. I've missed Molly more than I thought possible.

Before I can find her though, Trina approaches me. "Did you have fun this afternoon?"

"Not in the slightest," I tell her somewhat testily.

"Well, Molly wasn't there …"

"No, she wasn't."

"And you must have missed her enormously, especially since you two are the first couple of the event."

"We're the first couple? What about Ronald and Olivia?" I start to panic that my reward for making it through this afternoon alive is spending more time with these people. And even though that's why I'm here, I'd planned on taking the evening off to enjoy some time with Molly.

Trina tells me, "I haven't seen Ronald or Olivia in a couple of days. I'm starting to wonder if they've left the lodge."

My whole body cringes as I ask, "So, it's me and Molly?"

Slapping me on the back, she says, "You got it!"

"Do we have to sit at a special table, or can I sit anywhere?"

She points. "Front table by the microphone."

The paper had better give me a bonus for going through this hell. But then it occurs to me that Molly is my bonus. I had no intention of meeting anyone that I wanted to date, but she stumbled and tripped her way into my life, and I'm absolutely smitten.

As soon as I sit down, I see Molly walk into the room. She looks radiant in yet another black cocktail dress. She's busy chatting with a shorter woman and they don't stop talking until they reach me. Molly looks nervous and I immediately wonder what's up.

I lean in to kiss her, but she pushes me away, saying, "B … Blake, hey. Hi."

Uh oh, is she having second thoughts about us? I move away from her and say, "Hi. Who's your friend?"

Molly looks like she's on the border of a panic attack when she says, "This isn't my friend, this is my sister, Ellen."

"Ellen!" I greet with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. "How nice to see you."

"Why?" she demands with her fists resting on her ample hips. Her stature reminds me of a correctional facility officer in a bad B movie.

"Because you're Molly's sister?" This comes out more a question than a statement.

"I'm not that happy to meet you, Blake," she tells me.

Molly hisses under her breath, "Give him a chance, Ellen."

I pull a chair back for Molly to sit down while Ellen takes care of herself. I have no idea what's going on here, but I sense this is not going to be an easy meal. Once we're seated, the winning charade team starts to show up.

Emberly stands by an empty chair and stares at me. "You're part of the first couple of the event?" She sounds totally disbelieving.

I stand up and pull her chair out for her while saying, "Emberly, I'd like you to meet Molly." Then I tell Molly, "Emberly and I played charades this afternoon." With a pointed look, I add, "Trina promised everyone that the winning team could eat with us and ask us questions about being the first official couple here."

Molly looks like she just swallowed her tongue. "Oh." After I sit down, she leans into me and says, "This is horrible timing."

I'm not sure why she's upset, but I can only guess she likes making a spectacle of herself about as much as I do. Which is not at all.

One other person from the winning team shows up. He introduces himself. "Hey, I'm Aspen. I'm a ski instructor in the winter and a barista in the off-season."

Molly's sister announces, "Two of you at the same table? Doesn't anyone make their own coffee anymore?"

It's obvious that Ellen has decided not to like me, and now I have my first inkling why that is. She doesn't like my career choice. Little does she know that I make an awful cup of coffee.

Hoping to engage her on a topic that she finds interesting, I ask, "What do you do, Ellen?"

"I write for Chicago Wind magazine," she says proudly. "I wrote a piece on the Elk Lake Lodge when they first opened."

Beads of nervous sweat immediately pop up on my forehead. I'm here on assignment working for the same freaking paper. The only reason Ellen doesn't know me on sight is because I've only been in the office a couple of times. Holy heck. I have the worst luck.

I somehow manage to choke out, "That sounds very interesting."

Molly interjects, "Blake enjoys writing, as well." It's clear she's hoping to help us find some common interest. Which, now that I know where her sister works, is the last thing I want to happen.

"What do you write?" Ellen asks, like she's pretty sure I find signing my own name a challenge.

"I … um … well …" I'm starting to sound like Molly. "I'm thinking about maybe writing a dystopian love story."

"You can't be serious." Yeah, she's not impressed.

"With a sports angle," I tell her. "I love sports."

Ellen's eyes narrow to slits as she asks, "There's something about you that's familiar."

"You might have been into the coffee shop where he works," Molly tells her. "Perky Cups?"

"Perky Cups? That's not the name of a coffee shop in Chicago."

"How do you know that, Ellen?" Molly grumbles. "Have you had coffee at every place in the Loop?"

She scoffs. "No, but I do get my bras at a place called Perky Cups in Wrigleyville."

Holy crap. That must be why the name popped into my head. I must have walked by it or something.

Molly turns to me. "You live in Wrigleyville."

Before I can think of how to dig my way out of this hole, Ellen announces, "You really do look familiar to me, Blake. What's your last name?"

I blurt out, "Walker," at the same time Molly says, "Walsh."

Ellen pushes her chair back and stands up like she's going to attack me. "Blake Walsh?" she barks. "I know who you are and you're no barista!"

Molly looks at me with pleading eyes, like she can't believe I lied to her. "I can explain," I tell her.

But before I can do so, Ellen shouts loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, "He's a reporter! We work at the same newspaper!"