The woman on his arm covered her mouth, not because she was shocked, but because she enjoyed the performance and wanted to look delicate while doing so.
I looked up at him calmly.
“Move aside, Blaine.”
He glanced down at my chair, then back at the watching circle.
“Still giving orders from that machine, I see.”
A bridesmaid near the bar stiffened, and one of the servers froze with a tray in his hands. The laughter around Blaine became thinner, less certain, but he mistook the hesitation for suspense and pushed harder.
“Without me, you would still be invisible,” he said. “You always forgot that my name got you into rooms like this.”
“No,” I answered. “Your name got you into rooms where my work made you look intelligent.”
The smile disappeared from his face.
