Page 28

CHAPTER 28

Trent

At the Conference

When I got back from the pool, I waited a long time for Stephanie, finally dozing off sprawled across my king-size bed with the hushed whispers of golf announcers in the background. I woke up and it was time for cocktail hour. Still no Stephanie. I had been eager for some flirting, hoping for some needed sex at this conference. Now I felt all backed up. Stepping into the bathroom, I decided to give myself a release. I just had time for a quick jack-off before cocktail hour. Shutting my eyes, I put together a fake body—the glistening hair of a woman I had passed in the airport, the face of a model I had seen on a billboard, the boobs of a favorite teacher from high school, Stephanie’s ass.

Doing my business quickly, I wiped everything off on a hotel towel and dumped it on the floor along with other towels I had used. The staff could clean up after me. That was their job.

Putting on a collared shirt monogrammed with my initials on the cuff, tucking a personalized handkerchief into the pocket, putting on my best $300 jeans and some Allen Edmonds shoes, I headed down, still hoping to see her.

Dozens of people were milling around the outdoor fireplace, eating hors d’oeuvres and drinking from bottles of beer or glasses of wine, but no Stephanie. I was disappointed but tried to hide it, walking up to a new group of people and giving them the ol’ Trent charm. It worked, as it always did, and soon that group went out to dinner in the Little Italy part of San Diego and then hit a dance club. The five of us cool people (which did not include Dorothy or Alan, of course) stayed out way too late and had too much to drink. I nicknamed our group “the Power Players” and told everyone how much better we were than anyone else at the conference.

Now it was Friday, day two of the conference, and I was hurting as I pushed the curtains back and squinted at the bright California sun, turning my head away and rubbing my temples. No treadmill today. It would take every bit of effort I had just to get downstairs.

Part of me wanted to skip, but I had done that yesterday. Plus, Stephanie had better be back from her migraine. She missed a lot last night. The best bonding at a conference happens with dinner and drinks, and man, we had some fun. There was even one woman in our group from Jacksonville who I had flirted with, and she had flirted right back. I would put her a couple of notches below Stephanie in the looks department, but she would do if I just wanted a conference fling. We would see. I first wanted to edge up to Stephanie again and see if that went anywhere today.

Into the hot shower I went, lingering an extra long time as I tried to shake my headache and sore throat; then it was on to shaving, getting outfit number two on, gelling up my hair, and heading downstairs. I didn’t have time for a full breakfast today, opting instead to grab a pastry and a coffee from the continental breakfast. There goes my diet , I thought, but my body was craving sugar and caffeine. I knew it would be a long stretch before lunch, and I braced myself.

Today our table assignments were shuffled, name cards out to show us where to go. My original foursome was scattered, and I found myself with three people I hadn’t met yet. Dorothy, Alan, and Stephanie were at different spots around the room.

Or I should say Dorothy and Alan were.

Stephanie’s name tag sat in front of an empty chair all day. I kept looking over to see if she was slipping in late, trying to look inconspicuous, but she never showed.

A tinge of anger welled up in me. She ghosted me yesterday after showing some promise, and here I was, hungover but making it to day two, and she couldn’t even pop down after she told me a day of rest would cure her migraine.

By the afternoon break, I was done with her. Bitch. Cop-out. Cold fish. I turned my attention to the woman who had flirted with me the night before. And I never thought about Stephanie again. Until the next week.