Another Mazzy Monday by Savannah Young, Sierra Avalon Page A
Authors: Savannah Young, Sierra Avalon
Ads: Link
get a break in about fifteen minutes, if you’re interested.”
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I’ve got my eyes on someone else.”
“Too bad,” she says before she finally releases the glass. “If it doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks,” I say, but more for the drink than anything else. I have absolutely no interest in pursuing anything with anyone but Mazzy.
I glance around the crowds that are mingling, eating and drinking. I have a feeling it will be a pretty late night. Now that the engagement announcement has been made I have no doubt that donors are lining up to support the campaign and that Drew is lapping up all of the attention.
I finally spot Mazzy in a corner of the room standing by herself eating a cocktail shrimp. She is not actually eating it, not the way I would anyway, she seems to be nibbling on it.
I waste no time making my way over to her. “What are you doing to that poor shrimp?” I ask as I sidle up to her.
“I can’t decide if I like it or not and I’m really not sure where to put it if I don’t want to finish it.”
I laugh then hold out my hand. “I’ll take it from you.”
I’ve never seen a person get rid of a shrimp so fast in my life. She practically tosses the offending food into my palm. “Was it that bad?”
“Kind of,” she says. “I’m not sure why. It has a weird sour aftertaste.”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
She holds up a hand. “I promise. I’ll stay right here.”
I hurry over to one of the small return tables that’s set up for dirty dishes and toss the shrimp onto a plate to join several of his half eaten friends. Apparently the shrimp isn’t too popular.
Mazzy has her eyes firmly planted on me as I make my way back over to her. I scan the room for signs of my brother and parents. Mom and Dad are talking with one of their old friends, which should keep them occupied for a while, and Drew is holding court with a handful of big donors, no doubt asking them to reinvest in his campaign.
“I need to show you something upstairs,” I whisper as I glide right up to Mazzy.” Follow me, but not too closely. I don’t want to arouse any suspicion.”
When she nods I make my way out of the room as swiftly as I can and head towards the back staircase. My parents’ house was once owned by a former President of Princeton University. When the house was originally built in the late 1880s they had what was known as servants’ quarters built for the help. The back staircase was meant to accommodate the servants so they could go up and down to their quarters without disturbing the master of the house and his family. My parents never had live-in servants. My mom occasionally employed housecleaners, particularly for special occasions. But just as often my mother liked to handle the cleaning herself, with the help of me and my brother of course. My mother liked to brag that she could clean a house better than someone she had to pay for the service. She’s always been quite fastidious so it’s no surprise that she had a difficult time finding housecleaners who could live up to her demands and expectations.
When we were kids my brother and I spent a lot of time playing on the servants’ staircase. Because the mansion was so old we often pretended it was a haunted staircase and we’d have contests to see who could scare the other one the most.
Before I head up the stairs I turn to make sure Mazzy is following me and she nearly bumps into my back.
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t think you were going to stop like that.”
“I wanted to make sure you were still behind me.” Then I look past her just to make sure no one else is in the hallway.
“Is the coast clear?” She giggles.
“All clear.” I start laughing myself. I don’t want to keep my hands off her so even though there’s a bit of risk, I still grab her hand.
It’s even better than the first time. I feel like our hands were made to be entwined. I
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I’ve got my eyes on someone else.”
“Too bad,” she says before she finally releases the glass. “If it doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks,” I say, but more for the drink than anything else. I have absolutely no interest in pursuing anything with anyone but Mazzy.
I glance around the crowds that are mingling, eating and drinking. I have a feeling it will be a pretty late night. Now that the engagement announcement has been made I have no doubt that donors are lining up to support the campaign and that Drew is lapping up all of the attention.
I finally spot Mazzy in a corner of the room standing by herself eating a cocktail shrimp. She is not actually eating it, not the way I would anyway, she seems to be nibbling on it.
I waste no time making my way over to her. “What are you doing to that poor shrimp?” I ask as I sidle up to her.
“I can’t decide if I like it or not and I’m really not sure where to put it if I don’t want to finish it.”
I laugh then hold out my hand. “I’ll take it from you.”
I’ve never seen a person get rid of a shrimp so fast in my life. She practically tosses the offending food into my palm. “Was it that bad?”
“Kind of,” she says. “I’m not sure why. It has a weird sour aftertaste.”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
She holds up a hand. “I promise. I’ll stay right here.”
I hurry over to one of the small return tables that’s set up for dirty dishes and toss the shrimp onto a plate to join several of his half eaten friends. Apparently the shrimp isn’t too popular.
Mazzy has her eyes firmly planted on me as I make my way back over to her. I scan the room for signs of my brother and parents. Mom and Dad are talking with one of their old friends, which should keep them occupied for a while, and Drew is holding court with a handful of big donors, no doubt asking them to reinvest in his campaign.
“I need to show you something upstairs,” I whisper as I glide right up to Mazzy.” Follow me, but not too closely. I don’t want to arouse any suspicion.”
When she nods I make my way out of the room as swiftly as I can and head towards the back staircase. My parents’ house was once owned by a former President of Princeton University. When the house was originally built in the late 1880s they had what was known as servants’ quarters built for the help. The back staircase was meant to accommodate the servants so they could go up and down to their quarters without disturbing the master of the house and his family. My parents never had live-in servants. My mom occasionally employed housecleaners, particularly for special occasions. But just as often my mother liked to handle the cleaning herself, with the help of me and my brother of course. My mother liked to brag that she could clean a house better than someone she had to pay for the service. She’s always been quite fastidious so it’s no surprise that she had a difficult time finding housecleaners who could live up to her demands and expectations.
When we were kids my brother and I spent a lot of time playing on the servants’ staircase. Because the mansion was so old we often pretended it was a haunted staircase and we’d have contests to see who could scare the other one the most.
Before I head up the stairs I turn to make sure Mazzy is following me and she nearly bumps into my back.
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t think you were going to stop like that.”
“I wanted to make sure you were still behind me.” Then I look past her just to make sure no one else is in the hallway.
“Is the coast clear?” She giggles.
“All clear.” I start laughing myself. I don’t want to keep my hands off her so even though there’s a bit of risk, I still grab her hand.
It’s even better than the first time. I feel like our hands were made to be entwined. I
Similar Books
