Christian Parkinson's playboy lifestyle has taken an interesting turn when he met the sharp and witty Kylie Preston. She has something in her that other women lack - the guts to call him on his bullshit.
She's not the type he dates but Christian fin...
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Kylie
I smoothed a hand down the skirt of my black dress when a woman in a satin dress trimmed with pearls and glittering sequins strolled past me. My eyes followed her as she shares air-kisses with her friends with similarly sparkling outfits, low on the back and a deep V-neck on the front. I look down to my now bland looking tulle A-line dress Audrey has insisted me to wear given the current state of my wardrobe is scarce, thanks to the tragic Titanic debacle in my apartment.
I thought I won't have any more resentment over that tragedy because it had been a week or so ago, but when I checked Audrey's calendar yesterday after grabbing lunch with Christian, the charity ball stared right to me like it was mocking me. It has also summed up how much I have not been focused on my job lately.
I was, no doubt, distracted. But in a good kind of way.
Audrey held her champagne flute and managed to look interested at whatever else the throng of women was droning on. She looked a tad misplaced having to join that one group that was seemingly having a cleavage competition. Audrey opted out of the form-fitting dress, still conscious about the pregnancy weight. Which is ridiculous because she looks great nevertheless.
A server whirled past and offered hors d'oeuvres which I politely declined. People doesn't each much in events like this one – I have come to know over the years – but they do drink heavily. And they enjoy dancing. Not the type of dancing I used to have in mind. It's more like the classic dancing where partners are almost a yard apart from each other.
I call it the "Dance of the Affluent."
I was supposed to be in Audrey's side at all times, but she's been slacking the reins lately (indecisively a good or bad thing) so I'm left to nurse my own champagne in a corner. I scan the sparkling crush of guests. I beamed when I saw someone familiar.
Chandra pushes her way through the crowd. Her hips swayed as she leaves trails of appreciative glances behind her. Ichinandra (her great grandmother's name) Parkinson is the only female proof his brother's good genes could look just as enticing on a woman. Her eyes are extra blue tonight. I suspect she's aware the blue sheath dress would bring out the color of her beautiful eyes.
"Hi, Kylie! Fabulous dress. I like." She looks me over, nodding in approval. "You look stunning."
"I can say the same thing to you," I teased.
Her hand flew to her chest in feigned shock. "I look stunning in these rags?"
"Well, that's an expensive rag," I pointed out.
She giggled, intertwining her arm with mine, attention on her sister in-law who is now cornered by an older throng. "Audrey always look sooo amazing," she sighed, "not to mention elegant."
We both stare at her in awe as she nods something an elderly couple was saying. She tipped her champagne flute to her lips, then granting them a slow smile.
