"What can I say? You never know who likes to ride." Ethan winked at me, and I couldn't help but kiss him. My Cinderella story was getting even better, and now my prince charming was taking me to an actual ball. I couldn't wait, not just because of the glamour and the chance to be lifted up in my career, but because Ethan Colson had asked me to go as his date. He had missed me like I missed him. As much as I enjoyed acting tough and independent, I knew it was too late; I was already falling in love with him. I just hoped he loved me, too, and I vowed to find out at the launch party.
Chapter Sixteen
Ethan
I felt uncharacteristically nervous as I entered the ballroom at the hotel. I knew it was because Kayla would be there.
Everything was perfect, from the stylish decorations done in red, blue, and silver chrome, all the way to the rock and roll band playing a blend of modern day songs along with classic hits. The delectable hors d'oeuvres were being served by waitresses in trendy miniskirts and motorcycle jackets. The whole place had the all-American biker vibe I wanted, while maintaining a high level of class and sophistication.
The launch party was being lauded by the press as the social event of the season. Everyone from mega movie stars to musical legends, from rising politicians to heads of corporations wanted to be there. Many of them already owned one of my bikes, and I knew the ones who didn't would buy one after tonight. The launch of the All American would be my most profitable and successful motorcycle yet.
"Mr. Colson!" a reporter for a premier news show called at me from across the barricade security had set up. Her flash of red hair caught my attention, and I worried she might be Angela coming to ruin my evening, but thankfully, she wasn't. So, I graciously strolled up to the reporter, despite the rush of paparazzi camera flashes that temporarily blinded me.
She held her microphone out towards me and asked excitedly, "You've been heralded as a power magnate behind America's most powerful motorcycle. What do you have to say?"
"Well, I have to admit I like the title, but I don't know that I deserve it. I work hard, but so do a lot of people at Speed Motorcycles. I think the true secret to my success lies in them."
"Why did you name the bike the All American?"
"Because it's made by Americans and driven by Americans. They take them out on our highways, country roads, dirt trails, raceways, city streets, and neighborhood roads. They wash them on weekends, take them out with friends, and enjoy riding them to summer barbecues. There is nothing more all-American than that tradition, and I feel like this motorcycle design is a tribute to that."
"And, how did you come up with the company's name, Speed Motorcycles?"
I feigned not being able to hear her and pointed towards the party inside the ballroom. "No more questions for now. I'm afraid I'd better be going."
She lowered her microphone in disappointment, but looked pleased as she turned back towards her cameraman. I'd given her a good sound bite for her show that would no doubt boost their ratings and her career.
There was no way I was giving her anything more than that, especially since it might harm mine.
Turning my back on the frenzied line of paparazzi, I strolled into the party and breathed in heavily, taking in the celebratory atmosphere.
I was wearing a new tux by Dolce and Gabbana and looking damn good. The alcohol from the bar was flowing freely, and everyone was having a good time. I just couldn't see the one person I was looking for.
Slowly, I circulated through the party, shaking hands and chatting with old friends and new, ingratiating myself to the public and smiling for selfies. A lot of my old friends from college were there, and we talked about old times and current successes. Graduating from an Ivy League university, a lot of them had gone on to head Fortune 500 companies, and inviting them to the launch party was a good way to market to potential customers with the kind of funds to sponsor future design research. It was the kind of P.R. bullshit I hated, but an important part of making my company a success. Besides, I needed a way to keep myself occupied until Kayla arrived.
Every time I saw a head of blonde hair, my heart skipped a beat, but when the beauty turned around, I was always disappointed to find it wasn't her. Where was she? What was taking her so long to get there?
Suddenly, a pair of soft, feminine hands covered my eyes from behind and a sexy voice whispered, "Guess who?"
Grinning foolishly, I turned around to face her and cried out in surprise. "Gwyneth, what are you doing here?"
She was the last person I wanted to see. Gwyneth Manzranni was the girl who had broken my heart over two decades ago. We started dating in college and then she brutally betrayed me, leaving me feeling shattered. I guess the fact that I hadn't had a real relationship with a woman since was proof that I never put the pieces of my heart back together again. We saw each other rarely during social events over the past few years, but whenever we did, it brought back all those old ghosts.
She looked just as good now as she did back then, perhaps even better. She wore her blonde hair short now, in a sexy shag that flowed freely around her still un-lined face. Her green eyes were lively and sharp, and her red lips were plump and begging to be kissed. She was dressed in a black cocktail dress that hugged her voluptuous curves in all the right places. The plunging neckline played peek-a-boo with her full breasts, while the short hemline showed off her best feature: her tanned, athletic legs. Just looking at them, I remembered how good it felt when those legs were wrapped around my waist while we were making love under the light of the moon. It stirred feelings in me I wished would die forever, but just kept coming back up every time I saw her.
"Victor invited me. I'm his plus-one," Gwyneth said in answer to my question, and I knew she meant my former college roommate, Vick Plumb.
We'd been frat brothers and then roommates. He’d been there during the tough months after I'd quit Krueger and hadn't yet sold my first bike. He was there for the birth of The Rebel and the struggle it had been to finance it. He'd paid my share of the rent when I wasn't able to, and I tried to make up for it by giving him a free motorcycle every year since as a way of saying thanks. Vick was a good friend, but how he could bring Gwyneth there when he knew how I felt about her was beyond me.
"Well, aren't you going to ask me to dance?" she asked, batting her lashes in an exaggerated fashion.
"I'm not much of a dancer," I glowered, but she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me towards the dance floor.
"Come on. What better way to show there are no hard feeling between us?" she said, knowing there was no way I could object without admitting I still hadn't gotten over our break-up.
I'd been nothing more than a kid when I met her. She wore her hair long back then. We were both hanging out with our individual groups of friends at a bar near the university. I'd thought she was cute, and my buddies dared me to go up to her and offer to buy her a drink.
I thought she was way out of my league; after all, I was just a kid on scholarship and she was obviously from a rich family. So, when she said yes, it exceeded my wildest dreams. Before I knew it, we were knocking back shots and she invited me back to her place to snort lines of coke.