Now Let Me Get This Straight, Part 2 By Austin Janes
A light snow had begun to fall as Josh and Edward drove downtown to the opera ball. Josh had insisted they go in Edward's Toyota Prius rather than in his own Jeep Wrangler. Edward could tell Josh was nervous and needed to be in control, so he quickly deferred to Josh and let him drive. A year ago, when Edward's old Ford Taurus had finally given up the ghost, Josh had convinced Edward that he must buy an environmentally friendly "Aqua Ice" Prius even though it was a little out of his price range. How Josh could continue to drive a Wrangler, which on a good day got only 18 miles per gallon, Edward never figured out. But, he thought, image--especially when it concerns personal transportation--seems to trump any other considerations in the minds of the young.
During the short drive, Edward was tempted to remind Josh once again not to pester Charlotte about introducing them to Charles Bingley. Edward had, in the previous week, admonished Josh that Charlotte's job at the opera, although it didn't pay a lot, was very important to her sense of self. Pestering her at the ball about the introduction might put her in an embarrassing position in regard to the General Director. Josh must allow her to use her own discretion in making the introduction. Josh, of course, protested that he wasn't a child and that he knew how to act appropriately. And there the matter lay.
Edward watched his cousin tightly grip the steering wheel, shoulders hunched and eyes glued to the now somewhat slippery road, and he thought better of bringing up the subject again. Instead, he put his left hand around the back of Josh's neck and massaged it lightly.
"Try to relax, Josh. We're going to have fun, right?"
Josh grinned and relaxed his shoulders. "I'm not nervous, you know. I'm just trying to not like total your car, okay?"
"Yeah, right," Edward answered grinning back.
The opera ball was being held in an indoor sports arena known as the Chrome Dome, after the large investment firm, Chrowe, Magnon & Mann, which had purchased the naming rights. Most local residents, however, referred to it as the "Sucker Dome", because of the large sums of taxpayer money that were spent to build the facility in hopes of luring a National Football League team to the city. Edward thought it a bizarre location to hold a fundraiser for the opera, whatever its name, but figured the space must have been donated.
They parked the car in a large parking garage marked with a temporary sign "For Opera Ball Patrons", and sprinted across the street to the arena, shivering all the way, since they had left their topcoats at home. The imposing main entrance was locked tight, and they needed to go in through the almost hidden players' entrance. Just inside at a check-in desk Charlotte was waiting for them.
"Well, it's about time you guys showed up!"
"You haven't been here this whole time, have you?" Edward asked.
"No, I got to eat dinner with the adults, but I've been here at the desk off and on. Fergus figured since I know everyone, I would be the best person to identify the guests. You may have noticed security is a little tight tonight. The mayor and a few other VIPs are here." She winked at Josh.
Edward and Josh then became aware that there were two very large men in dark suits partially blocking the hallway that led to the players' locker room. Charlotte threaded herself between the cousins grabbing an arm from each and, nodding to the security guards, escorted her friends into the locker room. The sounds of an orchestra tuning could already be heard from the distant arena floor.
"You look stunning, Charlotte! What a beautiful color!" said Edward referring to her dress. Then, whirling around and planting himself squarely in front of her, he stared down closely at the diamond necklace nestled in her large bosom and asked pointedly, "Are they real?"
Charlotte immediately caught on that he wasn't referring just to the necklace and pushed him away lightly.
"You better watch it, buster!" she said laughing. "And I was going for 'smashing'--not 'stunning', but thank you for the compliment. You're looking mighty sexy yourself, handsome." Then noticing Edward's neckwear, she said, "Hey, nice tie!"
Josh beamed. Charlotte, pretending she'd just noticed him, said, "So who's the tasty piece of eye candy you came with, Edward? I didn't know you knew any film stars."
"Aw, Charlotte, cut it out!" Josh responded. "It's just a tux, okay? No big deal!"
She smooched him on the cheek and watched his face color slightly and his grin widen.
"You're going to break a lot of hearts tonight, young Josh," she said.
If Edward had had any thought that the arena floor would be transformed into a rococo Viennese palace, he was soon to be disappointed. As the trio passed through the entrance tunnel and on to the field at one end of the arena, the first thing to strike his eyes was the bright blue tarp covering the Astroturf. At the far end of the field, where the other goal post would normally be, an open-sided white tent had been erected. Guests were still lingering at the round dining tables underneath the canopy. Nearby a small wooden dance floor had been set up, and on the sidelines a twelve-piece orchestra was playing the first strains of an arrangement of waltzes from Der Rosenkavalier.
They made their way in the dim light along the outside of the field toward the brightly lit tent. Edward remarked on how poor the acoustics were-it was an indoor sports arena, after all-but Charlotte assured him that the sound would improve as they got closer. Josh just stared in wonderment.
When they finally reached the tent, Edward could see that the dinner must have been splendid. Even in the disarray of dishes and chairs after the meal, he was impressed by the choice of tableware, flower centerpieces and the ambience created by the lighting and colors.
"Do I detect your influence in this little shindig?"
Charlotte smiled modestly. "Well, yes. I did play a small role, although there is only so much one can do with rented dishes and a sports dome."
Turning to his cousin, Edward then asked, "Josh, are you going to be okay on your own for a while? I'd like to ask this charming young lady for a dance."
"Sure, I'll be fine, Eddie. Think I'll go grab a drink or something." And off Josh went into the crowd.
"Will you do me the honor, my dear?"
"Why of course, kind sir!"
None of the hundred or more attendees had yet ventured on to the dance floor. Edward and Charlotte began the familiar turning pattern of a Viennese waltz. A few of the guests, thinking the dancing couple had been hired as entertainment, applauded politely. Soon, however, several more couples joined them, and when the number of people on the floor finally made fast waltzing impossible, Edward and Charlotte slowed down enough to converse.
"Do you think Josh will be all right tonight?" Charlotte began.
"Yes, he'll be fine. He's a good kid, really--just a little star struck."
"Chaz Bingley is quite the charmer. Everyone is taken with him. Even Mrs. Acquaponte was falling all over him at dinner. She actually pretended to brush a crumb off his lapel and then accused one of the poor catering staff of carelessness!"
"Oh, hell! Mrs. Acquaponte's here?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. She's on the Board of Trustees after all."
Mrs. Acquaponte was the wife of the CEO of HappyFeet Shoe Corporation. Edward's sole encounter with her had started with what he thought was going to involve a fundraising brochure for City Opera. Edward had taken some calligraphy classes in the course of his graphic design education and could write a decent Spencerian hand. How she knew that Edward could do calligraphy, he never found out, but Mrs. Acquaponte approached him about addressing a few "special invitations" for her. Thinking this was for the fundraiser, he readily agreed. The "special invitations" turned out to be nearly 300 invitations to the wedding of her oldest daughter, Pamphylia. Not only did Edward barely make minimum wage on this endeavor, but Mrs. Acquaponte also had the gall to ask that fourteen of them be done again, because "they weren't fancy enough." In the course of this job, Josh would often hear grumbling and soft curses coming from Edward's studio, including what sounded like "wok, wok, wok!" He later learned that Edward had shortened "wizened old crone" to its acronym and would spit it out as an epithet to relieve his frustration. Edward had heard it rumored that Mrs. Acquaponte's second daughter, Mesopotamia, had just become engaged, so he was anxious to avoid her.
"I'll keep the big, bad witch away from you, dear," Charlotte said soothingly.
"'Witch' is not the word I would have chosen," Edward replied gritting his teeth.
The first set of waltzes had ended. As Edward escorted Charlotte off the dance floor he noticed Josh leading a pretty young lady on.
"Look, Charlotte!" He pointed toward Josh.
"Good for him!" she replied. "He's managed to find the only woman here under 30."
"Who is she? And what do you suppose she's doing at this old fogy's convention?"
"Well thanks a lot, Edward!"
"I didn't mean you, Charlotte! You know that."
"Anyway, that's Fergus's daughter, Fiona."
"But I thought Fergus was..."
"Gay?" she finished for him. "That doesn't mean he can't have a daughter, does it? His ex-wife in Scotland wanted her to spend more time with her father, so she's here till after the New Year."
Edward and Charlotte watched the young couple whirl around the dance floor. Josh's natural physical grace lent itself well to waltzing. The young lady matched him step for step.
"Well, God bless Catholic schools!" Edward exclaimed. "Who knew Josh could dance so well?"
"Is that where he learned, do you think?" Charlotte asked. "I'm glad he's found something--or someone--to distract him. I'm afraid I have some bad news about Mr. Bingley."
"What do you mean?" Edward asked with concern.
"He's not gay."
"He told you this?"
"Not exactly. But the way he flirted with me--hell, not just me but with every woman here! A woman knows these things."
"You mean you have straydar," Edward said smiling in relief.
"Straydar?"
"You know, the straight version of gaydar."
Charlotte laughed. "Something like that."
"No offense, my dear Charlotte, but I will continue to hold out hope for Josh's sake, that Mr. Bingley is at least bi, if not gay. And if Fergus can have a daughter, why can't a gay Mr. Bingley flirt with attractive young ladies such as yourself? By the way, where is Mr. Bingley?"
"You haven't noticed him yet?" she asked incredulously. And then pointing, she continued, "He's standing right over there."
Mr. Bingley was about twenty feet away from the pair on the other side of the dance floor. For all the talk about Charles Bingley during the past few weeks, Edward had little idea of what he actually looked like. Not an avid reader of People or even The Gayzette, he assumed Mr. Bingley must be a good-looking man but knew nothing beyond that. What Edward saw was an exceptionally handsome man, perhaps a little shorter than his cousin, with bright blue eyes, light brown hair and an open countenance that bespoke good humor and affability. Mr. Bingley sported a carefully cultivated three-day growth of beard and was wearing what Edward calculated to be a very expensive tuxedo. He was watching something intently on the dance floor.
Following the direction of Mr. Bingley's gaze, Edward realized he was watching Josh and Fiona as they danced. Just at that moment, Mr. Bingley looked over at Edward, smiled broadly and came towards him and Charlotte.
"Charlotte, I need your help!" he said laughing. "Oh, pardon me, I don't think I've met your friend." After the proper introductions were made, he continued, "What a terrific idea to have an opera ball as a fundraiser! Everyone is having such a good time, don't you think? I bet Will will want to suggest the same kind of thing at the next Met board meeting."
"I think the ball was Charlotte's idea, actually," Edward responded, not really understanding who Will was. "But what I would like to know is where the arrangements for the dance music came from? They're brilliantly done." The orchestra had just begun a rendition of the "Jewel Song" from Faust.
"I know Miles did some of the arranging," Charlotte offered. Miles Owenby was the Artistic Director of City Opera and was conducting the small orchestra. "But, Chaz, you said you needed my help?"
"Yes, of course! You seem to know everyone here," he said, eliciting a smile from Charlotte. "Who is the young man dancing with Fergus's daughter? I don't remember seeing him at dinner."
Charlotte was momentarily speechless. Edward suppressed a guffaw and answered for her, "That is my cousin, Josh Bennett. We both arrived together a little while ago."
"Where did he learn to dance like that?"
It was apparent to Edward, at least, that Mr. Bingley had more than a casual interest in his cousin. He answered, "Charlotte and I were just talking about that. I'm guessing he must have learned to dance at Our Lady of Perpetual Responsibility High School in Chicago. I think parochial schools are the only ones that still teach ballroom dancing in gym class."
"Wow!" Mr. Bingley replied. "He's a great dancer. And how did a young guy like him get interested in opera?"
Edward knew that Mr. Bingley was how Josh "got interested in opera" but decided not to blow his cover. He answered instead, "Would you like to meet him? I'll let Josh tell you himself."
Charlotte, finally regaining her tongue, cried, "I will do the introductions, thank you very much!" Looking at Edward she said, "You go get me a glass of champagne." Edward laughed out loud this time, made an exaggerated gesture of obeisance and went off toward the bar.
When he got to the long table set up as a bar, he paused and looked back at the dancers. Josh and Fiona were still waltzing away, but a man and a woman had joined Charlotte and Mr. Bingley on the edge of the dance floor. The woman had very short hair--excruciatingly blond, Edward thought. She was fashion model thin and dressed in a black leather miniskirt with an expensive looking black top of some sort. She had a heavy silver choker around her neck, which she was fingering nervously as she balance herself awkwardly on chunky black shoes with heels of an indeterminate height. Her shrill laughter cut through the music of the orchestra.
The man was something else entirely. Taller than Mr. Bingley by an inch or two and perhaps a few years older, he had black hair with just a hint of gray around the temples, very dark eyes and a square, clean-shaven cleft chin, although the shadow on his face suggested the stubble of a very heavy beard. If Mr. Bingley was handsome, this other man was positively dangerous. Elegantly dressed in a tuxedo like Mr. Bingley, he was gazing around the arena with what seemed like barely concealed contempt.
Despite himself, Edward began to feel aroused by this man's intimidating masculinity. In the ten years since his break up with Greg, Edward had tried to avoid strong feelings of any kind, but especially sexual ones. Seeing this man was therefore an unwelcome shock. Edward felt his cock harden and began to panic that his erection would become noticeable--or worse yet, a precum stain would begin to appear on his trousers. In his panic, he tried to readjust his suit coat to hide whatever might lurk below and was only brought back to earth by the sound of a voice behind him.
"Hey, Mr. B.!"
Edward turned around, and behind the table that served as the bar was standing Josh's friend Brandon. Between the panic brought on by his sudden sexual arousal and the surprise of seeing Brandon in an unfamiliar context, Edward just stared at him with his mouth open.
"It's me! You know--Brandon Dilschneider. You seen a ghost or somethin', Mr. B.?" Brandon asked with a smile.
The absurdity of the situation suddenly hit Edward and he began to laugh. "I'm sorry, Brandon. I didn't recognize you at first. What are you doing here, anyway?"
"I moonlight as a bartender with Cacciatore Catering. When Josh told me he was going to be here, I made sure they used me for this opera gig."
Brandon was dressed in black pants and a black vest over a long-sleeve white shirt with a red bow tie. The heavy steel ring that usually pierced his left eyebrow was replaced with a thin silver post capped by small silver balls on either side. Three small silver rings pierced his left ear lobe and his long blond hair was tied back discreetly in a ponytail. Edward figured this must constitute Brandon's "work" attire.
"It was very nice of you to lend Josh your tux," Edward said. "You didn't need it for work?"
"Shit, no, Mr. B.! This is what they want me to wear when I'm workin'. You won't catch me in that fuckin' monkey suit, if I can help it!" he replied. "So who's Josh talkin' to over there anyway?"
Edward turned back toward the dance floor and saw that Charlotte was introducing Josh to Mr. Bingley and to the man and woman who had joined them. Josh seemed to have become uncharacteristically shy and was looking down toward the floor as Mr. Bingley talked to him in a rather more animated fashion.
"You must have heard Josh talk about Charles Bingley recently."
"So that's that Bingley dude." Brandon frowned. "Mr. B., can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Brandon. What's up?"
"Josh and me, like we've been friends now for a while, ya know? And I really like him and stuff? But it's like he doesn't know I exist sometimes. I mean, what's wrong with me? Do I like have major body odor or something?"
"Brandon! I'm sure there's nothing wrong with you. I've only really gotten to know Josh over the last couple of years, but it's become apparent even to me that he hears the beat of a different drummer. Do you understand?"
"You mean he's like into leather and chains and stuff? I mean, that's cool with me."
"No, no! I was quoting Thoreau." Edward could see that Brandon was still confused. "What I mean is that Josh seems to have priorities of his own that aren't always apparent to other people. I wouldn't take it personally if Josh hasn't responded to you the way you'd like him to."
"What does he see in that old guy, anyway? Look at the way he's making the moves on Josh. It's disgusting!" Brandon was clearly displeased.
Edward looked over again to where Josh and Mr. Bingley were standing. Josh had said something that Mr. Bingley responded to with uproarious laughter. Mr. Bingley was clearly of the "touchy-feely" school and punctuated his responses by gently squeezing Josh's shoulder or lightly touching his arm. Edward and Brandon continued to watch the pantomime in silence. Josh seemed to be teaching Mr. Bingley some of his dance moves.
"Mr. Bingley can't be more than ten years older than you, Brandon. Is that so old?" Edward asked.
Brandon just frowned harder.
"Look, for some reason it was really important to Josh to be here and meet Mr. Bingley. Now that he has, I suspect things will go back to the way they've always been. Don't worry so much about it, okay? You're a nice kid..."
"I'm not a kid!" Brandon interrupted.
"You're a nice young man, then. If things don't work out between you and Josh, you'll meet someone else. That's the advantage of being young." Edward had exhausted his "fatherly" advice. "By the way, I must have come over here for a reason. Oh yes! Brandon, I'd like a glass of champagne for Ms. Lucas, please."
By the time Edward was handed the champagne flute, he had Brandon smiling again. Saying good-bye he scanned the crowd to see where Charlotte had gotten. He spied her talking with Fergus Kenton under the tent and made his way over to her through the crowd.
"Here's your drink, my dear."
"Edward! I'd just about given up on you. Fergus was telling me that not only has Chaz Bingley pledged a substantial amount to City Opera, but his friend Will D'Arcy has too."
At this point Edward and the always dapper Fergus greeted one another.
"It's great to see you here, Edward, but I must be off and begin mingling again. These cows won't milk themselves!" And off Fergus went.
"So who's this Will D'Arcy?" Edward asked once Fergus had left.
"He's one of Chaz's two guests. He's talking with Chaz's sister, Caroline--that blond over there." Edward recognized the man and woman he had seen earlier.
Remembering his recent panic over whom he now knew to be Will D'Arcy, Edward took the counter offensive, "Mr. D'Arcy is quite the stud, don't you think? I know who'll be starring in my next wet dream!"
"Down, boy! Too much information!" Charlotte laughed. "Your dreamboat is unfortunately a jerk of the first magnitude. Don't you know who he is?" Edward's puzzled look was enough for her to continue. "Does Senator D'Arcy ring a bell?"
"Isn't he one of those southern Senators?"
"Yes. South Carolina, to be exact. This is the same family--all descended from Stanley D'Arcy, founder of Acme Oil. The Senator is Will D'Arcy's uncle. Will keeps a very low profile, but he's one of the richest men in the country."
"That doesn't make him a jerk, does it?"
"No, it doesn't, but it kind of explains why he thinks we're all lower than pigeon shit here in St. Louis!"
"Charlotte! Such language!"
"I mean it, Edward. He hasn't had a kind word to say to anyone tonight--or any word for that matter. Even Mrs. Acquaponte could only get one or two words out of him at dinner, and that was to say that the veal was tough--which it wasn't, by the way" Charlotte was defending her turf. "He's spent the entire evening so far talking either with Chaz, his sister or occasionally Fergus. I was surprised he said a whole sentence to Josh when I introduced them."
The contrast between Charles Bingley and William D'Arcy was like night and day. Mr. Bingley loved parties and thought the present one was one of the best he'd ever been to. He'd never met such interesting, friendly people, and although not a great dancer himself, was delighted to dance with many of the women at the ball. He felt right at home. And indeed St. Louis was a second home to him because his mother, a Bommarito by birth, had grown up on the Hill, the Italian section of the city. He'd visited his grandparents in St. Louis frequently as a youth. And now that he was opening up a series of Italian restaurants, St. Louis seemed like the perfect location for one of them as well as a place to set up residence.
Mr. D'Arcy, on the other hand, was bored out of his mind. Although confident and aggressive in business situations, he felt ill at ease in social ones. Accustomed to wealth and privilege since his birth in Charleston, South Carolina, he was instilled with a sense of social responsibility by his father, who also, however, taught him the necessity of extreme caution when dealing with other people because of that wealth. It was that sense of caution combined with his social diffidence that prevented him from enjoying the present occasion. Whereas Mr. Bingley was declared by everyone to be a "great guy" and a wonderful new asset to the community, Mr. D'Arcy was universally disliked and heartily wished somewhere else.
That two such men should have become friends seemed unlikely. Will D'Arcy was six years older than Charles Bingley and had gone to work for his father in New York City after his undergraduate years at Harvard University. His father had divorced his mother when Will was twelve and had started another family in Connecticut soon thereafter. Will had one half-brother, Stan, from the second marriage and came to live with them during his high school years. Five years after graduating from Harvard, Will decided to go back there to get an advanced degree in business.
Charles Bingley and his sister grew up in a middle class family in Nutley, New Jersey. Considered a computer geek in high school, he had gone on to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology where his work on search engine technology planted the seed for his future fortune. He, too, went on to Harvard for an M.B.A., and it was there that he met Will D'Arcy.
The two men were immediately attracted to one another and soon became lovers. Mr. Bingley's easy-going ways helped to loosen up Mr. D'Arcy's cautious ones, and in return Mr. D'Arcy reigned in some of Mr. Bingley's exuberance to the benefit of both. Unfortunately they were too much alike sexually, both wanting to be the alpha male in the relationship. After two years of trying to accommodate each other's needs, they decided that in order to save their friendship, the physical aspects of their relationship would have to be put aside. Their continuing closeness to one another, however, made other intimate relationships a challenge.
The ball was getting on towards eleven o'clock. Although Edward had been initially flustered by Mr. D'Arcy's strong sexual presence, he had managed as usual to suppress this conflicted desire deeply within. Like Mr. Bingley, he had asked a number of women to dance, and indeed, several eager women had even asked him to dance as well. Feeling fatigued, he sat down for a moment to catch his breath at one of the tables under the tent. Standing a few tables away were Mr. Bingley and his sister with Mr. D'Arcy, and Edward could just hear what they were saying.
"Are you going to spend the entire night hiding in the tent, Will?" said Mr. Bingley.
His sister interrupted, "Chaz, that isn't fair! Leave poor Will alone. I can barely stand it here myself. What a colossal bore! Could these people be any stupider? Or full of themselves, for that matter... This was one of the lamer things you've dragged us into."
"Hey, I can defend myself, Cari!" Mr. D'Arcy said laughing. He had a deep, resonant voice with a soft southern accent that seemed intoxicating to Edward. "You know what a social animal Charlie is."
"Billyboy, if you're not at least going to dance..." Mr. Bingley began.
"I did dance," Mr. D'Arcy protested.
"Yeah, one dance with Cari. Big deal!"
"I also danced with Charlotte what's-her-name."
"Okay, two dances then. But what I started to say was that you don't have to stand around looking stupid." He held up his hand to prevent his friend from interrupting him. "There are some very interesting men here to talk with."
"You've found the only guy here worth 'talking' to," Mr. D'Arcy shot back.
"Yeah, Josh Bennett is a real sweet guy," Mr. Bingley said. Then with an exaggerated tone of voice he continued, "I think I'm in love!"
"Cut it out, Chaz!" Ms. Bingley cried angrily. "I'm not letting you get involved with some Gen-X slacker from the middle of nowhere."
"As if you have any say in the matter!" Mr. Bingley laughed. "But, Will, seriously, you could be having a lot more fun tonight if you'd just make the effort. There's Josh's cousin sitting over there. He's a very funny guy and seems to know a lot about opera. I think you'd enjoy talking with him."
Mr. D'Arcy looked over at Edward and catching his eye immediately turned back to Mr. Bingley. "I'm sure he's a regular Conan O'Brien, but I didn't come here to make the day of some old opera queen with a comb-over."
Ms. Bingley erupted in brittle laughter. Mr. Bingley started to protest and take his friend to task for his cruel comment. Edward heard none of this, however. After Mr. D'Arcy's remark, he had turned beet red and fled the tent. Somehow finding his way to one of the men's rooms deep in the bowels of the sports dome, he stood shaking in front of a mirror trying to pull himself together.
Minutes passed, and when Edward had finally calmed down somewhat, he splashed some cold water on his still warm cheeks. He heard the door burst open, looked up into the mirror and saw Josh come in with a very worried look on his face.
"Eddie, thank God you're here!" Josh shouted. "I've been searching for you everywhere. Brandon said he saw you run out lookin' real sick or something!"
"I'm fine, Josh, really." Seeing Josh's great agitation, Edward realized how much he had overreacted to Mr. D'Arcy's comment. Why should he care what Mr. D'Arcy thought about him? The whole thing seemed ridiculous in retrospect and he began to bubble over with laughter. His laughing seemed to upset Josh even more.
"Dude, I'm not sure you're fine at all! What's goin' on, Eddie?"
Edward finally stopped laughing long enough to explain what Mr. D'Arcy had said about him and about his own overreaction.
"Well, I'm glad you can laugh about it, I guess," Josh said uncertainly. "But what a shitty thing to say! You can't be any older than him and you sure as shit don't have a comb-over."
The which was certainly true, since Edward kept his thinning hair cut too short to comb over even if he had wanted to. What Edward didn't know was that Mr. D'Arcy had been watching him on and off during the evening. At first Mr. D'Arcy convinced himself that his scrutiny of Edward had just been a way of killing time, but as he overheard snippets of conversation, saw the man dancing, and all but laughed out loud at one of his remarks, Mr. D'Arcy found himself drawn to him. Edward certainly wasn't handsome in a conventional way, but his bright, intelligent eyes and easy demeanor were strangely captivating. Feeling in danger of real attraction, Mr. D'Arcy put the brakes on and resorted to caricature in order to put his friends off as well as himself.
Edward was touched by Josh's concern for him and told him so. As they left the men's room and found their way back to the arena, they spotted Mr. D'Arcy talking with Charlotte's father, who as a major donor to City Opera had sat at the head table.
"I can't believe that D'Arcy dude would say something like that, Eddie. He was like really nice when he talked with me and Charlotte," Josh began.
"People like Mr. D'Arcy can turn it on and off, I'm sure, and remember, he didn't know I could hear what he was saying. But let it go, Josh. He's not worth getting bent out of shape for." Deciding a change of subject was in order, Edward continued, "So you finally got to meet Chaz Bingley! How did it go?"
In typical Josh fashion, he replied, "It was cool..."
"Just 'cool'?"
Josh was coloring and looking around uncomfortably. "C'mon, Eddie. Don't embarrass me, 'kay? I'll tell you later."
Edward said no more, but smiled broadly as he thought to himself that Josh had apparently done very well indeed. Josh went off to talk to Brandon, and Edward decided to find Charlotte. He couldn't wait to tell her of his recent adventures.
Under the tent, Charlotte's father was still talking with Mr. D'Arcy. Mr. Lucas was a respectable older gentleman, who though never really having had to make a living, fancied himself a rare and antique bookseller. That more books ended up at the Lucas mansion on Lindell Boulevard than actually left there in sales did not seem to bother anyone, least of all Mr. Lucas. His real life's work was to be kind and generous to everyone around him.
"I love to see the young people dancing. Don't you, Mr. D'Arcy?" Mr. Lucas inquired.
Mr. D'Arcy just grunted.
"I suspect the Met must hold a lot of these fancy fundraisers. Do you do a lot of dancing in New York, sir?"
"In New York, we prefer to leave the dancing to professionals," replied Mr. D'Arcy, and then they both became alert to Edward walking by.
"Edward!" Mr. Lucas cried. "Have you met Mr. D'Arcy? Mr. D'Arcy, you must meet my daughter Charlotte's friend, Edward Bennett. You two have a lot in common, I think."
Mr. D'Arcy proffered his hand, and Edward was momentarily too startled not to accept the handshake. Recovering quickly, he said with a sly smile, "What a pleasure to meet you! I understand from Charlotte that you sit on the board of the Metropolitan Opera. We must seem like pretty small potatoes to you here in St. Louis."
Now it was Mr. D'Arcy's turn to be taken aback, but enjoying the challenge, he countered, "You know quite a bit about opera, I bet."
"Oh heavens, don't get me started!" Edward replied. "You don't want to be bored to death by an old opera queen like me!" Mr. D'Arcy colored. "Well, I must be off. I see Mrs. Acquaponte coming this way and I need to avoid her at all costs or she'll make me dance with her! Nice to meet you, Mr. D'Arcy."
Edward walked quickly away, barely able to keep a straight face. From a safe distance, he turned back and saw that Mrs. Acquaponte had cornered Mr. D'Arcy and was dragging him onto the dance floor. Miles Owenby had announced that this was to be the last waltz, and as the music began, Edward watched Mr. D'Arcy expertly lead the "wizened old crone" around the floor.
"Damn!" he thought. "Does this guy have to be good at everything?"
The digital time display on the scoreboard in the dome was showing 1:47 a.m., and Edward suddenly felt very tired. He looked around the arena for Josh and spotted him back under tent talking with Mr. Bingley. Josh caught his eye and motioned for him to come over.
"Hey, Eddie! Chaz has invited you, me 'n' Charlotte to the opening of his restaurant on New Year's Eve! Isn't that wicked cool?" Josh beamed.
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Bingley!" Edward said with delight.
"Hey, please call me Chaz, Eddie. Mr. Bingley is my father."
Edward winced. No one called him "Eddie" except Josh and that was because he couldn't stop him. Nevertheless, he was pleased for Josh that things were going so well and let it go.
"Well then...Chaz. It's way past my bedtime and I'm afraid I'm going to have to drag this miscreant here along with me, 'cause he's driving. It was a real pleasure to meet you, and I'm looking forward to seeing your restaurant!"
Goodbyes were said, handshakes were made, and Josh even got a hug from Mr. Bingley that lingered perhaps a bit too long. Josh and Edward then sought out Charlotte to bid her farewell, too, after which they joined the crowd making their way out of the dome to the parking lot and thence home and to bed.
To be continued ...
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