“No way this dress cost over a thousand, seven hundred dollars!”
Harbor Bridge Resort and Spa was the second largest in Detroit and, as such, had to live up to that name in terms of maintenance, building, and rebuilding. That is to say Andre Lourdes was spending a hell of a lot of cash on running the place. But let’s not even go to the figures he is receiving in return. The place could cater to at least five families over twelve months. And make no mistake, I am not talking about a couple or some widowed woman with two children. I am talking about a family of four and more.
Part of the numerous subtleties the resort housed was a Chanel Store. In the same store, Andre had made a prepaid deposit of what she presumed to be a whopping amount of dollars. Because why then would he say, “For the Meet and Greet event this evening, y’all need to look your best! So, on that note, you’re more than welcome to walk into the Chanel Store in the building and pick whatever catches your fancy!”
Colleen was in awe. At the same time, a little bit insulted. What did Andre Lourdes think? They couldn’t afford dresses good enough to be worn to a meet and greet with men and women of the highest caliber in Detroit?
Okay. Fair point, she thought as she quietly moved away from the thousand-dollar white midi dress. It did catch her fancy but that price tag was way too absurd for a dress she may only be wearing tonight.
When she went out to the shoe section, she found Liz waiting for her by the door with two shopping bags in her hand.
“Please tell me the cashier is ringing up your stuff out back,” Liz said, almost pleadingly.
“I wish I could. But I still haven’t been able to decide on a dress, shoe, or anything else for that matter. They’re all so expensive.”
“And remind me, Ms. Frugal, who is paying for the dresses, shoes, or anything else for that matter?”
Colleen opened her mouth to speak but Liz held up a hand to stop her.
“Right! It’s the generous Andre Lourdes.”
Colleen grimaced inwardly. Generous my foot! She thought mockingly. Yet he wanted a favor returned simply because she forgot to say goodnight before retiring to bed after dinner at the benefactor’s table.
“You know what?” Liz dumped her shopping bags in Colleen’s hand, dragging her ass to sit in a waiting chair. “Since you’re ‘indecisive,’ rather offended by Mr. Lourdes’ kind gesture, and can’t bring yourself to choose a dress because your ego is flying around and about, I’ll go find something for you.”
She disappeared into the store and, after nearly fifteen minutes, reappeared carrying two shopping bags. Silently, Colleen and Liz moved up to her room where they began to prepare for the event which was in about two hours. They had decided to leave the shopping trip to the last minute because their first seminar ended sometime around 4 pm.
Being the stylist amongst the pair, Liz took over the show. As they danced to Kid Lario’s ‘Stay,’ they dressed each other. By 7:45, they were both ready.
Colleen stared at her reflection. The dress her friend had chosen for her was a lace peach long sleeve soiree dress with a slit that ran up to her thigh, revealing a good amount of skin. For her hair, it was in a simple, easy updo. As for her makeup, Liz may have gone a little over the fence.
In her words, “I am going to use you, Colleen, to sell my skills.” It was smokey makeup, nothing extravagant but definitely sexy and stunning.
She was just about finished, looking and feeling like half a million dollars.
A few minutes past eight, they both made their way to the beautifully decorated hall already swarming with a lot of people. Yet, of the lot, Colleen only had her eyes set out on one man.
ANDRE LOURDES, being the host and all, decided to make an appearance an hour after the event kicked off. His Exalted High-and-Mightiness waltzed into the hall with his signature lopsided smile on his face, looking radiating in that all-black tuxedo that hugged his body to perfection.
Have we ever mentioned Andre Lourdes’ hair? Just like Colleen, his hair-which he took his oh, very sweet time taking care of-was dark brown long locks, the kind models in vogue magazines usually kept. Whether he was trying to get an invite to be the front page cover of a magazine, one wouldn’t know. But that brown shoulder-length hair which he always left bouncing over his head, was packed in a messy low bun tonight heightening the whole audacious look.
Swinging one long leg after the other, Andre all but danced into the room, holding a glass of champagne in his hand while a look of fulfillment played around his face. The success of this event was written all over the room, one needn’t give him statistics about it.
And just like Colleen, he had his eyes set out for one woman whom he found conversing with the airport-owned Mr. Rodrich, his business matter. It was nice to see that she was letting her guard loose and mingling with people. They needed to see what an amazing woman she was. In and out.
Andre let her finish her conversation with Mr. Rodrich. Immediately she moved on from him, he came up behind her.
“Ahh my my,” he exclaimed, winking at her. “I can see my generosity paid off.”
Colleen stopped in her tracks, concealing all the upset coursing through her veins now. Isn’t it the popular saying to never ask a woman her age, and how much her dress costs?
Oh, well. Only a gentleman would heed to that.
With an exaggerated smile, she turned to look at Andre who remained smiling at her. How unfortunate was it that his face was the direct opposite of his attitude, she thought?
“Mr. Lourdes,” she said coolly. “Great party. For a brief second, I thought you weren’t going to show up to your own event.”
“Does that mean you were looking for me?”
She glowered at him. “Oh please, I barely noticed you were not in attendance until now. It was Mr. Rodrich, over there, who mentioned your name only once in our conversation, saying he hadn’t seen you around yet.”
Andre gave her an ‘is that so look,’ saying nothing as he allowed his eyes shamelessly skid the entire length of her. A trick he knew all too well had women flushing and turning tomato red. And Colleen was no different. She immediately became self-aware, shifting uncomfortably.
“Let’s walk, Ms. Caddell.” Taking her arm in his, he led her through the large expanse of the hall. “Am I correct in understanding that you dislike me?”
She responded sarcastically. “It’s not rocket science, Mr. Lourdes. Even a blind man would notice.”
“Why is that, Ms. Caddell?”
“Well, for starters, it’s not in my nature to mingle with men such as yourself.”
His brows furrowed on her and the side of his lips twitched, knowing what was to come. “And how would you describe ‘men such as myself?'”
“The papers say it all: arrogant, arrogantly rich, arrogantly disrespectful, arrogantly rude.”
“You forgot arrogantly handsome.” He smirked and she hissed at him.
Though it was worthy to note that just like everyone in Detroit, Colleen had a definition of the kind of man he was without even getting to know him.
Goddamn, those papers!
Pulling her to meet his pace, he said straight-faced, “What is it they say about never judging a book by its cover, Ms. Caddell?
“And never defining someone based on the judgments of others?”
She became silent. But it was never Andre’s intention to make her feel bad for thinking the worst of him.
“Do you have a family?” He quickly alternated the course of the conversation, noticing the gloom that had formed around them. “Are they in Colorado or here in Detroit?”
After a long pause of careful contemplation, she responded, “Colorado. They’re rather . . . unconcerned of my whereabouts.”
“Why so?”
“Let’s just say I grew up in a dysfunctional family. Hallelujah, I turned out alright!”
He chuckled to himself. “I hear you. We’re not that different in the dysfunctional family department. I have a brother-in actually–who’d rather spend a night in a cell than have dinner with me. And as for my mother . . .” He trailed off, not finding the right words or phrases to describe their relationship.
It was now Colleen realized that barely two weeks ago, Andre had lost his mother, and not once had she offered her condolence. How insensitive.
Stroking the back of his palm, she said softly, almost in a whisper, “I am sorry about your mother, Andre.”
“It’s alright,” he smiled at her. “I mean I never knew her like a mother. I was never here, she was never there. So it’s her to grieve for her in that way. What I am left with is the fact that the woman who gave birth to me is no more.”
It was painful nonetheless, losing a parent. And Colleen just about saw that in a man who barely knew his mother despite her being around. In her case, her parents hated her.
Just about then, Gaten Lourdes walked up to them. They were nothing identical but had some similar features ranging from the color of hair, eyes, and skin shade. And unlike Andre, he had something very welcoming about him. One might add, oddly welcoming.
“Hello . . . brother.” He was greeting Andre but he was looking at Colleen. “And you must be Sophia.” He finished sticking out his arm.
“It’s Colleen,” she corrected.
“Ohh no?” He exchanged looks with Andre. “I could swear she looks like that redhead Sophia you met in Paris five years ago.”
The tension and awkwardness between them immediately spiked to a hundred and seventy-five. And Colleen knew. That was her cue to exit.