The first formal event I went to with Prescott, I felt like a complete outsider. There’s a certain way that one must walk and talk; shit, even breathe. Going to these type of events require tons of media training, especially when your plus one is a sole heir of a fortune 500 company. Prescott was a natural at it; he was always able to give the press what they wanted out of him, and to me, it was a completely different side of him I never see. I like to call him Press-Scott, the guy that smiles and is kind to the press so that any slandering stories made about him are either dismissed or no one pays attention to. Sometimes, I feel like that’s the guy I first met, and whoever this guy is now is just who he truly is.
But it’s the fact that I know he’s capable of being the guy I once met is what truly keeps me here.
I looked at myself in Prescott’s huge walk-in closet. For tonight’s event, he picked out a lavender-color silk dress, spaghetti strapped. I had told him countless times that these type of dresses always make me feel insecure, yet he’s always making me wear them and every single time, he has his makeup artist cover the tattoos on my back, just covering up the things that make up my being.
Prescott walks into the closet. I turn around and look at him, smiling.
“I like this color,” I simply said. “Purple pairs well with brown.”
“I know,” Prescott said, grabbing his suit jacket from a hanger. “I had asked my stylist to see what colors would look best on you.”
“You could’ve just asked me,” I teased, trying to hide how I really felt. Me, being an art major and knowing color theory like the alphabet, knows that purple compliments brown hair and eyes. As much as I like wearing all the fancy shit Prescott picks out, I wish I was able to contribute even just a tad-bit.
“Not the way you dress, Rosie,” Prescott teased, putting on his watch before sighing. “You do look really good in that color though.”
“Thanks,” I smiled as I put on the matching faux coat. “Time to do this.”
“You’ll be great,” Prescott reassured. “You always know what to do.” Prescott turned around and exited the closet. I slowly followed behind him.
…
Tonight’s event was some bullshit excuse to celebrate the next generation of business owners. It was full of pretentious wannabe business owners that were born into these businesses, yet here I am with one of them. I don’t remember how or when I agreed to be Prescott’s date for these things, but I guess in exchange for free outfits, I have to act interested in what was going on. I typically zone out in these events, thinking about who’s secretly fucking who and who has skeletons piling up in their closets. Sometimes, I’m able to keep up with the conversation enough to engage when I’m asked to; tonight wasn’t that time.
“Rosie?” Prescott called out my name, annoyed. I quickly looked at Prescott, trying to appear as present as possible. “Brandon asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, now looking at this tall, skinny guy that looks like he’s a lead guitarist of a band rather than a business owner. “What did you say?”
“It’s fine,” the guy dismissed. “We all bring these types of dates some time.” The guy walks away as Prescott tries to laugh the situation away. Once the guy leaves, Prescott’s smile quickly fades away.
“Do you not know how to listen?” Prescott said. “Like sheesh, I know you’re not too bright but if one of my colleagues ask you a question, I expect you to answer it.”
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t listening to the guy who’s business is all about animal fecal matter in soil,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“It’s called being respectful, Rosie; I know you didn’t grow up knowing what that meant,” Prescott spat back. It was times like this that I wanted to do nothing more than just run out of these events. The longer I would have to stay here, the more annoyed I’d become. Normally, I would suck it up and stay; it was better to feel miserable than to have to hear Prescott go off on me when the event was over. Tonight wasn’t that night.
The food finally came out, and from what I thought would be a five-course meal was just caviar and crackers. I couldn’t take it anymore and needed to get out of here. I looked over at Prescott who was too busy interacting with the other socialites sitting at the table. I sighed, giving him chance after chance to pay any sort of attention to me. I slowly grabbed my bag from the side of me and got up from the table. He didn’t turn around to ask me where I was going; nothing. I rolled my eyes, walking toward the coat check section and grabbed my coat, leaving out the venue from the front door.
…
It wouldn’t be the first time I entered a local 7Eleven store in a formal dress like this one. Sure, the people in the store always look at me when I do, but after these dumb, fancy events, I always have to get real snacks and real food from a store to take back home with me. I walked down n the aisles, looking to see what I wanted to get tonight. I didn’t have much money on me this night, but I had to make due what I had. I picked up a small can of soda and csome chips,, followed by some gummy candy as a sweet treat. I looked up from my pile of snacks and see another perosn in the same aisle as me in the store. If it was anyone else, I would’ve just went about my night, paid, and left to go back home…
Of course, I looked up and see Micah, looking just as confused and annoyed as I am in this moment.
“Hey, Roe,” he finally said.
Letters From Liz. 