Burning Flowers by June Beyoki Page A

out there,
you know?” But back to this dinner party. What should I wear? I
don’t know if my wardrobe is that up to par with what all these
rich people are going to be wearing.”
    She looked Vince up and down and made a face
at his dirty torn jeans. Hopefully he owned something else because
he was right. “Think Sunday best or nicer if you have it.”
    “What’s nicer than my Sunday best?” he
asked, sitting forward in his seat and pulling up one eyebrow
questioningly.
    “You’ll find out Friday,” she answered with
a grin. If nothing else it was going to be fun seeing him try and
interact with her mother’s snooty friends.

Chapter Twelve
    Clarke looked at herself in the mirror that
stretched the length of her closet door. She had opted for a
flowing, Grecian style indigo dress with a split up the right side.
It was sleeveless and made her look like she had bigger breasts
than she actually did. She had placed a silver clip in her hair to
hold it back from her face. She looked a lot like an old Hollywood
star, ready to attend a red carpet event. At least she looked the
part even if she couldn’t play it very well. Though, she was sure
as usual her beauty would drive her mother nuts.
    A knock came at her door, and she grabbed
her clutch and walked out, locking the door. She wanted to get it
over with. Vince looked taken aback by her rush as he struggled to
keep up with her pace as she led the way towards her car. They had
compromised on how they were getting there. She’d wanted to go
separately, but Vince had pointed out that wouldn’t look good. So,
they were taking her car. Clarke knew that a white pickup wasn’t
going to get them very many points at the party.
    Vince was able to rush in front of her and
open her door for her. She looked at him for the first time,
noticing his nice jeans without any tears with a lilac shirt tucked
in and a black suit jacket. He actually looked pretty good. “You
clean up well,” she commented before climbing into the passenger
seat. He followed, coming around the car and getting into the
driver’s seat. She laughed as he adjusted the seat backward and
down. She had never had a man in her car before, so she didn’t
realize just how small a space she left on the driver’s side.
    He took off towards the address she’d
already plugged into the GPS, and they sat there in silence on the
way there until he finally turned on the radio. Now, instead of
whistling, he was singing along to none other than “Sweet Child of
Mine” by Guns N Roses. His voice was surprisingly good, but she
chose to ignore it and looked at the window, watching the
apartments and average size houses turn into large custom builds
behind large gates. She found herself wondering about networking
while she was at the party, but her mother had probably already
poisoned them all against her. Hell, they probably remembered her
from years past as Ms. Bennett’s pitiful spinster of a daughter.
Perhaps she wasn’t that unlike Elizabeth Bennett.
    Once there, she found herself feeling
jittery and held onto Vince’s hand even as they walked up to the
dark blue door that led into the room where her fate would be
decided. Was her mother going to figure them out? Was she going to
embarrass her?
    Luckily, it wasn’t her mother who answered
the door. It was a tall man in a suit that looked like it had been
around for the last 50 years; a butler. He gestured them to go to
the dining room where a group of overdressed people sipping out of
champagne flutes. Clarke spotted her mother near the front of the
group chatting it up with the Colemans. Was she really still
pushing that one?
    She met eyes with her ex and looked away
quickly, inadvertently squeezing Vince’s hand harder. Hopefully her
mother hadn’t already talked to him and set up some kind of old
world betrothal; not that Clarke would put that past her.
    “Oh, Clarke!” her mother called, weaving
through the crowd to get to her, causing everyone to turn