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As always, they look as if they work very well together, and when Eric walks up to the podium to speak in front of the more than three thousand attendees, I look at him with pride. I listen to everything he says and notice how handsome, really handsome, he is in that dark gray suit. When his speech is over and Amanda gets up next to him at the podium, I tense up. Eric has his hand around her waist. She’s obviously delighted and waves with victory on her face.
Miguel looks over at me. I gulp, but I try to smile. After that, a few servers start to pass out glasses of champagne and canapés. Sheltered between my Spanish companions, I can see everything. Eric draws closer, along with Amanda. Both greet the attendees, and I want to go running when I see him coming up to my group. With an enchanting but cold smile, he looks at us all. He doesn’t pay me any special attention, and when he greets me, his eyes barely dart across mine. He shakes my hand just like everyone else’s, and then he walks on to keep saying hello to the rest of the guests. Amanda’s gaze meets mine, and I see the mockery in her eyes.
While they greet the others, I watch how Eric puts his hand around Amanda’s waist again and they take photos. At no point does he make a move toward me. It’s as if we’d never met. Without blinking, I watch how he takes photos with other women, and I get goose bumps when I see Eric say something to one of them, looking at her lips. I know what that look means, and what it can lead to. My neck itches. The hives! Jealousy is starting to get the best of me. When I can’t take it anymore, I look for a way out. I have to get out of here one way or another. As I push open a door, someone takes me by the hand. I turn around with my heart accelerating, and I see it’s Miguel. For an instant, I thought it’d be Eric.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some air. It’s really hot in here.”
“I’ll go with you.”
When we finally exit, Miguel gets out a pack of cigarettes, and I ask him for one. After the first few drags, my body starts to calm down.
“Are you all right, Judith?” asks Miguel.
I nod and smile, trying to be the same bubbly girl as always.
“Yes, it’s just so hot.”
Miguel nods. I know he sees through me, but I don’t want to talk about it. After the cigarette, I suggest we go back in. I have to be strong, and I know I have to show my resilience to Eric, Amanda, Miguel, and everyone else.
With steady steps, I go back to the Spanish group and try to participate in their conversations, but I can’t. Every time I turn around, Eric is close, flattering some other woman.
Two hours later, I’m in one of the restrooms when I hear a woman say big-shot Eric Zimmerman told her she’s really cute. I can’t help it; I look over at her. She’s a massive bimbo. An Italian girl with huge breasts, luscious curves, and copper-colored hair. She looks flustered, and I know why. Eric’s saying something like that with his eyes on you is enough to fluster anyone.
When I leave the restroom, I cross paths with Amanda. The harpy looks at me and winks, amused. I feel an unstoppable urge to snatch her by her blonde hair and drag her across the floor, but no. I’m at a convention; I have to be professional, and, above all, I promised my father I wouldn’t behave that way again.
I’m surprised when I find Eric talking to our group. Beside him is a brunette beauty from the Seville branch who’s almost drooling as he talks. Eric, aware of his magnetic effect on women, jokes around with her, and she, like an idiot, touches her hair and moves nervously. I close my eyes. I don’t want to see them. But when I open my eyes, they meet Eric’s.
“Miss Flores can take you to the party. She knows her way around Munich.” I raise my chin, and Eric hands me a card. “I’ll see you all there.” And then he walks away.
Everyone looks at me and asks me how to get to the place the big boss has mentioned. I look at the card, and after I remember where the party venue is, we head toward the bus that will take us to the hotel where we will stay until night falls and it’s time for the event.
Back in my room, I take the opportunity to shower. I’m very tense. I don’t want to go to the party, but I can’t blow it off. And Eric has already made sure I won’t. After drying my hair, I hear some slapping sounds and some gasping. I listen closely, and after a minute, I smile. The next room is Miguel’s; from what I can hear, he’s having a good time.
I hit the wall a few times, and the gasping stops. I don’t want to hear them! I put on a black dress with rhinestones around the waist. I slip into some high heels and pull my hair back into a high bun. When I look at myself in the mirror, I smile. I know I’m sexy. Surely Eric won’t look at me, but my looks will draw the eyes of other men.
At least that’ll lift my spirits, right?
At nine o’clock, after having dinner in the hotel, we all meet up in the lobby. As I expected, everyone is looking for me to take them to the spot the big boss mentioned. After talking to the bus driver, we plunge into Munich traffic, and I smile as we pass by the English Garden. I look fondly at the places where I used to take walks with Eric, where I was happy during a lovely time in my life, but I’m snapped out of my memories when the bus reaches its destination and we have to get off.
The venue is huge, and, as expected, Mr. Zimmerman has prepared a colossal party. Everyone claps. Miguel is amused.
“Good evening.”
When I raise my eyes, they meet Eric’s. He’s stunning in his black tuxedo and bow tie. Oh my God, I’ve always wanted to make love to him while he’s wearing just that bow tie. So hot! I quickly shoo the idea out of my head. His coldness is extreme. My heart flutters, and my stomach contracts until I see the person by his side is the Italian redhead from the restroom. Goddamn it!
Without changing the look on my face, I say hello, and he carries on with her. I don’t want him to see what his presence is doing to me, but the truth is he totally crushes me. It’s clear Eric has moved on with his life, and I have to accept it.
I walk over to the bar and order a drink. I’m thirsty. For an hour, Miguel is by my side. We laugh and comment on things until the music starts. They’ve hired a swing band. I love it! People start dancing, and Miguel decides to take Hurricane Patricia out on the floor.
I’m left alone, and while I sip my drink, I look around. I haven’t seen Eric again, but suddenly I spot him dancing with the Italian girl. That bothers me. Song after song, I witness how all the women want to dance with him, and he accepts, delighted.
Since when is he such a dancer?
I’m supposed to be the crazy dancer, and here I am, clinging to the bar. Shit! It’s when I see him dance with Amanda that I really get mad. I can’t stand the look on her face and how she holds him possessively around the neck while she moves her fingers and strokes his hair.
I turn around. I can’t keep watching. I go to the ladies’ room, freshen up, and return to the party.