by Blane Thomas
“Why are you wearing a three-piece suit?” his deep voice laughed out softly.
Corey began to fluster. “The… your invitation said dress formally! And Ryan said that I needed to wear a suit, too!”
Theo tilted his head sideways. Corey had to admit, the man before him, almost a head taller than he, looked both adorable and dashing at the same time. “Yes, formally. But I meant, formal for a casual soiree. This isn’t a frat party, but it isn’t exactly a wedding either!”
Corey must have looked ashamed, having screwed up his attire on his virgin visit to a sophisticated soiree. His lips trembled. Never had he felt so mortified. He was going to be turned away by the host. Throughout the day, he had been excited at the prospect of meeting some of the most famous artisans in Chicago.
Theo saw the embarrassment in Corey’s eyes and immediately stepped out of the front door.
“Hey…, hey,” the caramel voice radiated out soothingly. Theo’s muscular hands perched themselves on Corey’s side, giving them a slight, but sure squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. Just turn around, will you?”
Corey raised his eyebrows at the request, but did so anyway. His body burnt at Theo’s touch. Though a little uncomfortable, he let Theo spin him on the spot till his back was facing Theo.
“What are you… oh!” Corey gasped as Theo leaned forward and rested his chin on Corey’s shoulder. Though he could not see it, he could feel the faint stubble of Theo’s cheek brush against the swell of his own earlobe.
The strong arms snaked forward and immediately reached for the buttons on Corey’s suit. One by one, Theo undid the buttons, slowly taking his time doing so. Corey tried to contain his trembling. He could feel something hard pressing against the seat of his pants but dared not move his body. The swell on Theo’s chest rested comfortably against Corey’s shoulder blades.
“Relax, baby,” Theo’s voice oozed with a mixture of humour and seduction. “I’m just dressing you down for the party.”
Corey allowed himself to be undressed. First, Theo removed his coat gently and it slid off like water. Next, with his back still turned to Theo, he felt Theo’s forearms press into his chest, pressing their bodies closer together. He could not help but let out a small whimper to which Theo snickered. Fingers rapidly undid the triangle of his necktie, and that too fell on the floor.
“Turn around,” Theo ordered.
Corey did so, and Theo took a step back, looking at the white shirt and black pants Corey still had on. He gave an approving nod.
“Much better,” Theo crooned. He then ran a finger along Corey’s jawline.
Corey’s lips were pursed at the entire experience. To avoid Theo’s eyes, he bent down to pick up the coat and tie.
“Leave it, Corey,” Theo said.
“But, this is my only suit and tie…,” Corey mumbled lamely, looking up. From where he crouched, Theo was a giant looking down at him with a sudden domineering persona. The crotch of his pants did have a significant swell, though Corey was more afraid than enamoured.
“Trust me, by the time you finish meeting everyone in here tonight, you will have enough money to dress in some of the finest suits!” Theo laughed. “Now, don’t just squat there like a commoner, follow me in!”
Reluctantly, Corey left his black coat and expensive blue necktie on the floor. He had bought the suit to be worn at his older brother’s wedding day. He thought then that he could easily fold the coat and place it on his arms, but Theo stood by the door with an aura of impatience in his devilish green eyes. He stepped through the door and was brought to the oddest-looking living room he had ever seen.
Instead of the arrangement of cushions and ottomans in the middle of the room, the whole space had been transformed into one that was not unlike an art gallery. Paintings hung from the wall, some Renaissance, some contemporary, some even Corey recognized from the likes of Picasso and Frida Kahlo. Guests were scattered on the vast expanse of the bare, glazed, wooden floor.
“Take a load off.” Theo flaunted his fingers frivolously towards the party. “Mingle, talk, have a good time.”
Before Corey produce a retort, Theo had already flown to the opposite side of the room to talk to a man with a thick, white beard. His heart was still thumping from Theo’s actions earlier. Should that be considered a flirtatious invitation? Or was it just done in good humour? He just did not know. Awkwardly, he took a step forward, crossing into the hall. No one paid him the slightest attention. He noticed that everyone had a drink in their hand, and he had none. Desperately, he sought after the waiter who was carrying a tray of champagne all around the room, replenishing the guest’s empty glass with a sparkle-laden one. Glass in hand, he felt a little bit more at home. He did not want to be perceived as awkward, so he walked towards the nearest painting on the wall. No one seemed to be admiring it – for its depiction of a wild, unruly orange tree.
It felt bizarre to look at the picture while sipping his wine. But Corey did not know how to handle himself in such a party.
“Stop fidgeting,” he berated the incessant tapping of his right foot.
Taking a large gulp of his champagne, he had to suppress a sudden urge to burp. His eyes discreetly scanned the party.
Soft jazz music played in the background. And the overhead lighting was deliberately dimmed to add a subtle atmosphere to Theo’s living room. Even the guests conversed in dulcet tones – no one being too loud or overbearing. Occasionally, Theo’s rich, musical laugh would fill the air and Corey would find him flitting from one small group to another, schmoozing with everyone. The party nursed artisans from all walks of life. Poets, writers, actors, singers, chefs, politicians, and even a famous Chicago nightlife drag queen. Human rights activists giggled with bankers, politicians exchanged secrets with newspaper editors.
“Having a good time?” Theo breathed out next to him, causing Corey to flinch slightly. Though a giant, Theo moved silently across the floor, holding on to another glass of champagne himself.
Corey nodded silently and took another sip of his drink. His eyes recognized a particular guest across the room – the renowned owner of a four-star Michelin Restaurant in Chicago.
“Wait, is that Anya Nabokov?” Corey pointed out to a woman in a simple black dress. “The owner of Highlands?”
“The one and only,” Theo smiled widely. “Come on, let me introduce you.”
Corey looked astounded. “What? No, I don’t think she would want to meet me!”
Theo was not listening anymore. He whisked Corey across the room and presented him to the haughty looking Anya. He also sung praises about Corey’s five-course meal at the Trainyard, to which Anya became slightly interested. Corey gushed at her for running the finest establishment in Chicago, and they spoke for just a few more minutes before Anya extended a hand out for Corey to shake, ending their conversation.
Theo then walked a disappointed Corey to the side.
“I fucked up,” Corey said hollowly. “She doesn’t like me at all.”
The taller man laughed. “What did you expect? For her to fall on the floor and worship you? Corey, my dear Corey, you did fine. She now knows you exist, and that’s all that matters.”
Corey raised an eyebrow. “How does that matter?”
“Guests who come here share a kind of camaraderie. In the future, should the opportunity present itself, they will be inclined to help you, based on the fact that they’ve once met you here.”
“I still don’t get it,” Corey mumbled obtusely. “Why would they be inclined to help me just because they met me at a party?”
Theo let out a rather pompous sigh. “This is not just a party, my dear Corey. It is THE party,” Theo smiled. “You are mingling with the movers and shakers of this city.”
People in the party spoke to each other in a language Corey could not comprehend. He recognized the words, in English, but it was the meaning behind the words he could not grasp. A lady calmly elucidated the dangers of alternative music to the masses, and
maintained that pop music was needed to keep the public happy. Another man, whom Corey knew was a famous author, was explaining how his novels now lacked the rich subtexts of his earlier works, because ‘the public could not handle it.’
This was a dance to which Corey was not a part of. He felt sick to his stomach – for a part of him thought this charade to be wholly pretentious. But, there was a small figment in the darkest recess of his heart however that yearned to be a part of their conversation. He wanted to be included, to have his opinions heard.
The front door was right there. He could have walked away from all this, but Corey wanted fame. It was recognition he sought after. So he stayed after two more gulps of his champagne.
Seeing that Corey decided to stay, Theo Devereux smiled widely. “You will do well in our little group here, Corey,” he said, lightly pinching at Corey’s chin. “Pity, Keith showed a lot of promise. I had thought him worthy of being included in our circle, but alas, the boy thinks himself too righteous and above all this.”
“Keith? You wanted to invite him here, too?” Corey asked, incredulous.
“Why, of course, Corey. In fact, I actually had him here once, for a previous party.” Theo smiled, recalling an amusing memory. “Did not go so well. That Keith does not know how to handle himself in front of strangers. Shame too, he is a genius chef! Much better than you of course.”
“But…, but, I crafted your five-course meal the other day! You said it was not like anything you’ve seen before!” Corey stammered in front of the muscular men whose smile grew snider.
“Come now, Corey,” Theo snickered. “Do you think I believe for a second that you single-handedly conceptualized the five-course meal the other day? No offense, you may be a good chef, but you will never be as skilful as Keith.”
He said this softly, yet each word easily minced through Corey’s ego. His face burnt with anger and humiliation. Theo was fully aware of the upset radiating within Corey. Instead of apologizing, he just looked away nonchalantly, taking in the view of the bay area from his apartment.
“Now, don’t start screaming and shouting at me, Corey,” Theo crooned. “Keith may be talented, but he does not have what you have.”
“And what is that?” Corey’s lip trembled in rage.
Around him, the guests were now a blur. He did not realize that small pools of tears were slowly collecting at the corners of his eyes. He had to pinch his thigh discreetly, hoping to curb the welling of his tears.
Theo continued to look out the window, taking another sip of his drink. “He does not have the desire nor the hunger to be famous. For Keith, he just cares if the food gets made. It does not matter to him who sees it, raves about it, or even worships it. It is not external validation he craves. It’s his own.”
Corey gulped. It surprised him immensely to hear Theo talk about Keith, as though he was describing a fearsome foe.
“You however.” This time Theo’s voice softened. He turned to Corey. “You want validation. Be it a pat on the back, a slew of people to worship the ground you walk on, you cook for the fame and glamour.”
Corey’s eyes fell, ashamed. “Am I a bad person for wanting these things?”
“No, no!” Theo reassured him as though placating a misbehaving adolescent. “… that’s a good thing!”
“It is?” Corey asked. “I feel like a bad person for wanting people to like me.”
“My dear Corey, you cook for the public. You are an artisan who gives the patrons what they want. You are not selfish, like Keith. You are a selfless person. Isn’t it the work of a chef to cook for his or her patrons?” Theo leaned in and whispered passionately. His hot breath tickled at Corey’s earlobe.
“I… I guess so,” Corey’s voice croaked, wiping his wet eyes.
“All of us here are like that, too. We are artisans from all walks of life. We are the true connoisseurs – we understand what the people want, and we give it to them! It’s a shame that Keith never understood this. He thinks himself above the opinion of the masses. He chooses to carve his own destiny. You may think him brave, but, he isn’t, Corey. He’s a fool.”
Though Corey wanted validation, he was irked by Theo’s opinion of Keith. He could not help but frown at Theo’s remark.
“You like him too, don’t you?” Theo flashed his bright teeth, amused. “By god, you are such an easy person to read!”
Corey became flustered, choosing not to meet Theo’s eyes.
“It’s okay,” Theo said softly. “Keith is definitely someone you can’t help but gravitate towards. There is this mysterious desire to get into his mind, isn’t there?”
“No,” Corey said bluntly. He took another gulp of his newly filled champagne glass. The alcohol emboldened him.
“No?” Theo asked, surprised.
“He’s just an asshole,” Corey said spitefully. “Thinks he’s better than everyone.”
“That’s right. So, do you actually like him?” Theo insisted.
“I don’t. I had thought that he was an amazing chef… I had thought him to be a successful chef.”
“But, you are more successful than he will ever be, Corey,” Theo’s voice easily ensnared and rebuilt his earlier shattered ego. “Look at you, at a young age of twenty-one, and you are in the same room with the most important people in Chicago. Can Keith say that about himself?”
“He’s probably in his large apartment somewhere, cooking up a storm for his important friends!” Corey seethed.
“Actually, he lives in the Dock Apartment vicinity. His entire apartment is no bigger than my smallest bathroom!”
“Ha!” Corey snorted, satisfied by this information. He was tipsy on champagne, his tongue loosening. “The way he acts, you’d think that he’s a big shot chef.”
“No, he isn’t. It is just an act. You are the big shot chef, Corey,” Theo sang out hypnotizingly.
Corey giggled. Alcohol swimming in his mind, further egged on by Theo’s words, he felt like he was the king of the world. With his inhibitions low, he was no longer the awkward young man. Theo brought him around the party, and Corey confidently kissed the cheeks of a very famous actress. As though it was the easiest thing to do, he invited her to one day dine at the Trainyard. He unabashedly flaunted his credentials – being only in his early twenties and already having a fantastic review by The Verve.
“How delightful!” the actress gushed. “And to be praised by Anais Heart, yet! I would love nothing more but to dine there soon!”
Chapter 14
The experience of Theo’s soiree left Corey at an all-time high. He felt powerful, having rubbed shoulders with the city’s most influential. And he had survived ‘the shark tank’ as some might put it. As he bade Theo goodbye with a comfortable kiss on the cheeks, Corey hailed a cab at the lobby and sat at the back, resting his head against the comfortable headrest. He allowed his heavy head to be buffeted by the soft cushion underneath. He was amused to see his reflection on the rear-view mirror of the cab – a handsome face with a goofy, yet satisfied smile.
Such emotions would be a waste to be savoured alone, Corey thought. He should share his experience with someone.
Who would be the best person to regale the adventures of Theo Devereux’s soiree?
Immediately, he asked the cabdriver to drive towards the Dock Apartments. Even the driver looked at Corey with a slightly raised eyebrow, to think that someone who was dressed rather well would be living in such an area.
With a quick text to Ryan, Corey acquired Keith’s address. Before he knew it, he was stumbling out of the cab where the air was wet with humidity and a slight tinge of harsh-living. Some people were still hanging outside with faded clothes and hoodies. Somewhere at another corner, two hookers shared a joint – the sweet smell of pot permeating through the visceral air. Corey swayed towards Keith’s apartment building – a dirty white-blue block with chips of paint falling out like a mottling bird’s. Each step nearer to the poverty-ridden apartment amused him further.
/> “How dare a man staying in such a place have such an inflated ego?” he thought to himself. He found it all audacious, that someone who wore his pride like a uniform was actually someone who was living in a squalor. He swayed and walked tipsily towards the building with Keith’s address thumping through his brain like a mantra.
Chapter 15
When Corey knocked on the door, he did so with an air of a landlord demanding his errant tenant pay a three-month long overdue rent. Keith answered the door promptly. For just a split second, his eyes showed the tiniest hint of surprise at the sight of Corey in front of his house. He was dressed in a faded grey t-shirt and sweat pants. There was nothing significantly riveting about the way he looked. Corey thought Keith was the most average person he had ever laid eyes on.
Keith looked at Corey, a small look of surprise registered from the slight elevation of his brows. “What are you doing here?” he asked without emotion.
Corey gave a lopsided smile, head still swimming in alcohol. “I’ve won and you’ve lost, Keith,” he laughed out mockingly, swaying on the spot.
He did not wait to be invited into the apartment. Rudely shoving Keith to the side, Corey staggered inside, amused to find Keith’s apartment almost like a cramped shoebox. The kitchen was barely the breadth of his feet extended apart, and a small mattress laid on the floor in the opposite corner of the room. A miniscule bookcase stood on the other corner of the room, and atop it, a simple enough potted plant. No pictures hung from the claustrophobic walls. There was a solitary chair accompanying a dainty, circular table to fit only one. It was evident that Keith did not entertain guests.
Corey could not help but give out a slightly tipsy giggle as he bent over a string that ran diagonally across his head. Hangers holding on to Keith’s uniform swayed lazily, egged by the motion of the fan above. He was a victor, savouring the winning blow, surveying the circumstances of the loser.
“What are you doing here, Corey?” Keith repeated his question. His voice never rose. He stood at the still open front door, arms folded, showing no displeasure at the sudden intrusion.