by KT Morrison
“Why are you bringing that in?”
Cole said, “It's going to be cold tonight, I don't want its feathers to get damaged.”
Max said, “Can I be in your Secret Society, please?”
“You and I are the Secret Society. You, me, and Maggie.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
“I don't know yet. Be awesome...”
“Already are,” Max said as they went in together to the room. It was ten-feet tall, spacious, with cold concrete walls and steel beams. There was a balcony out their window, railing in metal and braided cable. Standing in the center of the room it could look like you were on a ship at sea. There were two queen size beds with charcoal bedding, the furniture was sleek and glossy; life and color provided by a vase of fresh flowers on a dresser facing the feet of the bed and a Jackson Pollock above the headboards in shades of steel with splashes of blood red.
Cole claimed his bed by tossing his bag on it. He set his raven head on a table at the floor to ceiling window looking over the bay. “Max, I knew her parents were loaded, but...”
Max said, “This is just their Rhode Island home.”
Cole said, “Yeah, they have a home in Holland...”
“Holland, a condo in Hong Kong, and a cabin upstate.”
“Yeah,” Cole said. “Maggie’s talked about the cabin.”
Max quietly asked, “What do you think of Carol?”
He huffed, made his lips flap, and raised his eyebrows, said, “Intense.”
“I know.”
“What's her dad like?” Cole said, turning the raven so it could watch out over the water.
Max said, “Less intense. Still intense.”
“How did Maggie turn out so sweet?”
“I don't know. She just is, I guess.”
Cole watched him a moment without saying anything. He moved between the beds, turned to him, waited another moment, then said, “Max, I know I've said that I'm honored to be your Best Man. I’ve said it flippantly. Trying to make light of it. But really...” He sat on the bed and hunched forward, looking towards Max but not in his eyes. “Really, it means a lot. And I am truly honored. I am...I couldn't ask for better friends. You and Maggie both. You're really special people to me.”
Max said, “Can I be flippant?”
“If you want to be a real asshole now, yeah,” he laughed.
Max sat next to him on the bed and he thumped Cole’s knee with his fist. “I wouldn't have made it through Farmingham without you.”
“Yeah, you would have.”
“Yeah. I wouldn't want to.”
“This where we kiss?” Cole said, looking soulfully in his eyes.
“It's your move, buddy.”
“I'm happy for you, Max. You found a real gem. Maggie is the most special girl I know. That I've ever met...”
“I know how lucky I am.”
“You deserve it. You're a good dude. You're good to her.”
“She's my Maggie. I’d do anything for her.”
“Speak of the devil,” Cole said.
Max looked to see his beautiful fiancée standing in the metal framed doorway. She had changed her clothes. Black skirt and black leggings, black cashmere sweater. Comfortable but neat. No sloppy lounging around the Becker house.
“Hey, you two,” she said. “Father’s home. You better come meet him.”
2
Oxbow
Friday, September 29th
Maggie led Max and Cole down to meet her father. They went out through the antiseptic kitchen, onto the gravel and walked the curve of the drive to a low flat-roof garage that was separate from the house.
Max walked with nervous tension and Cole sauntered next to him with his hands in his pockets, gaze cast out over the bay, watching the sailboats out there, his messy blonde hair whipping around.
Father was home from golf, stepping out of his black SL roadster. He brought another man home with him. A stocky fine-boned man with a big belly and a red booze-blasted nose. They were both dressed for sport, in polos and slacks, the man with the belly had a Callaway cap pulled low over his thick-lens glasses.
“Hi, Father,” she said as they stepped from the gravel to the squeaky polished cement of his immaculate garage.
“Margaret,” he said loudly into his open car as he pulled out his windbreaker from the backseat. He turned then and she went to him and he took one of her hands and kissed her cheek.
“Max,” he said, holding his jacket in one hand and shaking Max’s hand. “How's school?” he asked. Martin and Carol kept very close eye on her grades and they'd like to get the same sort of Intelligence on her future husband.
“Great, Martin,” he said, knowing the routine. He said, “4.0.”
Her father didn't respond. He wasn't impressed, Max was doing what he was supposed to.
Maggie said, “Father, this is Cole. I told you about him. He's our Best Man.”
Her father looked him over and shook his hand while Cole nodded, shook firmly, and said, “Sir.”
While Max was polite and acquiescent, properly dressed and groomed, Cole had a roguish charm. He wore the right clothes but they were unkempt. Untucked black polo, wrinkled khakis, scuffed Sperrys. His hair was wild and his beard was coarse. But he was fit and athletic, he had his summer tan, and fierce dazzling eyes. He was the man her father was at twenty-one. Martin was expressionless but she knew him, could tell he liked Cole and that pleased her.
“Oh,” he said then, as an afterthought, “This is Hartley Westlake. Winter-Oxbow.” The way he said it making her think it was an investment bank.
“Hey,” the man said, and he shook all their hands, his voice a phlegmy crackle like there was something wrong with him.
Father took Hartley aside a moment and they talked quietly. Her father towered over him. Martin looked impressive even now in his mid-fifties. Six-two and thick salt-and-pepper hair. He commanded a room. Commanded this garage. She turned to Max and Cole, not sure what to do now.
Martin led Hartley up the drive, still engaged in whatever discussion of high-finance they were having and he said over his shoulder, “Max, would you put my clubs away, then you and Cole please meet me up in my office.”
Cole investigated Martin's liquor cabinet while they waited. It made Max nervous, feeling like he’d be in trouble if Cole got caught. Cole squeaked crystal lids off crystal decanters and sniffed their amber contents.
“Cole, come on,” Max said.
Cole said, “It's all right, I'm not drinking it... There's no bottles,” he said, looking over the black wooden shelves. “I can't tell what they are but they've got to be some elite-level whiskeys, right?”
“Yeah, probably,” Max said, twisting in one of the chairs that sat in front of Martin's desk in his office. A room as austere as the rest of the house. The view brought the room alive, a windy day out there and sailboats sliced across the bay.
“Cole, seriously,” Max hissed as he tilted a decanter to his lips.
“Wish I had a hip flask,” he said. Then, “Hey, did you see that Porsche?”
“In his garage?”
“Yeah, like a 550 Spyder.”
“I know. He has more cars in storage in Newport. That's just the one he’s driving right now.”
“I fucking love Martin's style, Max,” he laughed, another decanter to his lips. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, said, “I wonder how expensive this is?”
The sound of footsteps on stone carried from the hall and Cole put the crystal down and took a spot in a chair next to Max, bringing him great relief.
Martin came into the room talking on his phone. He spoke in Dutch, and Cole and Max looked at each other. Cole nudged his foot and smiled, mouthed, Relax.
They sat in silence and waited, Max’s feet jumping in triple time. When Martin was done he placed his phone down carefully.
“Max,” he said, getting right to business. “School is well?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he s
aid. He took his spot on the official side of the desk and sat. “I approved the marriage. But you are young. You're both very young. I don't want the planning of the wedding to interfere with Margaret's work, yes?”
“I know, sir.”
“So,” he said, leaning further forward. “I know young men like to have fun. Joke. Yes? Tomorrow,” he said, “I want one-hundred-percent. We've got a lot to do, I want you in bed early, we accomplish what we need. Because, on Monday, it's back to school. I don't want Margaret thinking about this. The planning of the wedding? ...Carol will do that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bed early, yes? One beer,” he laughed. Eased, said, “Maybe two,” lightening them up. Even Cole laughed.
Then, serious as stone, he leaned in again, said, “Max. The wedding is ten months. You graduate in seven. You will be my Margaret's husband. Your plan?”
Max bristled. Felt challenged. This was normal for Martin but he felt belittled in front of Cole. He could sense the discomfort. But he had proud news so he was undaunted. “Martin, I, uh, I'm going to Wall Street.”
Martin didn't beam. It was the kind of news he wanted to hear but pragmatic as he was he needed more than stated intentions. “I start the day after our honeymoon at Kohl-Kravitz.”
Martin sat up straight, looked at the ceiling, thinking.
Max said, “Paid internship. But they'll arrange for my accredita—”
“KK is,” he mimicked sleeping like a little boy. “After your honeymoon I want you at Oxbow.”
“But, Martin, I've made my int—”
“It's done,” he said, with a dismissive wave of four fingers. “It’s for the best. I will send you Hartley's contact.”
In his periphery Max could see Cole’s eyebrows raise. He felt shame, felt his own face go red.
“Now, you,” he said directly to Cole, swiveling to face him. “You know my daughter?”
“Maggie...Margaret is my very good friend, sir. I'm friends with Max, but Maggie...Margaret is very important to me. I’m there for both of them.”
“Good,” he smiled. “You’ll shave the day of the wedding?”
“Of course, sir,” Cole smiled.
“What do you do?”
“Government and Policy, sir. Beltway bound.”
“Law school?”
“Harvard, next fall.”
“Sport?”
“Lacrosse. Midfielder.”
It made Martin smile. He clapped his big hands together and then leaned forward again. Although he was well-groomed and elegant, there was a noticeable masculinity to him. He was lean but big, heavy-boned with large hands and joints. “And, Cole, what do I need to tell you about the Bachelor Party?”
“Nothing, sir,” Cole said.
He held Cole’s eyes a while, then eased back in his chair, said, “Good. That's all. Go,” he waved them away, acting like he was annoyed. “Dinner is in forty-five minutes. Carol invited two of Margaret’s best friends. Tell her. I've got work to do,” he said as he took his phone up again and started dialing.
“What?” Maggie exclaimed.
Ken said, “Susie Kim and Lee Wu.”
“Oh, come on, she has no clue...” Maggie groaned, putting her face in her hands as she sunk into an upholstered chair in the conservatory.
“It's the first nice thing she's done. She didn't let you see your friends when you were in high school...she's loosening up...”
“She has no idea who my friends are...or were. Or...even what Lee might...you know... Be to me...”
Ken’s face went shocked, “Oh no, really? Oh, Maggie. Want me to tell her?”
She laughed. “Oh, can you imagine?”
“I'll tell her, Mom, you invited a guy Maggie had sex with to have dinner with her and her fiancé.”
“She’d build a time machine to go back and stop him.”
“Yeah. She'll think Lee was the reason you ended up in Art.”
“Hey!”
“I'm kidding...Maggie...” he said as he put his arms around her shoulders.
They were in a concrete hall designed specifically for acoustics by two engineers from Boston. It had fabric panels screwed to the wall, angled with precision to the two Louis XIV chairs that she and Ken were sitting in. Ahead of them were a gleaming black grand piano and, resting in a stand, a polished cello. The two of them had spent thousands of hours in this room practicing. Sometimes she thought she would go crazy. It all seemed so long ago even though it was just a few years. She’d been so scared then. Still carried some of it, so did Ken, but it was nice to sit here in this cold scary room and not feel desperate. She felt like she had survived something.
“It's good to see you,” Ken said with sudden thoughtfulness.
She said, “You okay?”
“Mm,” he shrugged. “Tired.”
They both heard Max and Cole before they saw them. Coming down the stairs from the second floor, trying to be quiet, trying to stifle laughter but the act of preventing it making it burst out louder. They were whispering to each other.
They passed the square archway to the conservatory without seeing her and her brother, and Ken called out, “There's no laughing in here, guys.”
The two of them came into the conservatory and they swallowed their smiles, worried that he might be serious. He didn't let them off the hook.
Maggie said, “He's kidding. What's so funny?”
Cole said, “We just got...” he looked around, worried, then got close and whispered, “We got put on the straight and narrow.”
“I hope you guys weren't here to have fun,” Ken said.
Cole said to Ken, “Hey, I hope you don’t think we’re making fun of your dad...”
Ken waved it off, said, “No way, I know...what did he tell you? ...Don’t mess around tomorrow because he’s got a lot to do? ...He hates nonsense.”
“Yeah,” Max said. “Pretty much, exactly.”
“And more,” Cole said, but he didn’t elaborate.
Ken said, “Mom invited Maggie’s old boy-toy.”
“Ken,” she said, slapping his arm.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, rubbing where she’d hit him, his face conveying his realization maybe he shouldn’t have said that.
Max tried to keep a brave face, but all that humor he came in with fell away. He said, “Who?”
Maggie slumped forward, elbows on her knees, she said, “Nobody. Lee.”
“The one who played bass?”
“Yeah,” she said.
Both Ken and Cole noticed Max’s discomfort.
Cole scratched his cheek, said to Ken, “Boy, this place is stressful. What do you do to calm your nerves?”
Ken said, “Well, there’s a bar in the living room.”
Cole said, “Will you lead the way?”
“I will, sir,” Ken answered and he headed towards the arch that led to the hall.
“We’ll catch up,” Maggie said quietly as they walked out. They acknowledged her, left laughing about something Cole said. Max watched them go down the hall and disappear under a different arch. He sighed, turned to Maggie and looked at her a moment. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, shrugged.
“Why did your mom invite him?” he asked her.
Maggie pushed herself to one side of the chair and she pat the edge for him to come and join her. When he sat down she squirmed next to him in the tight space and she slipped a bent leg up on to his lap and she faced him.
“She doesn’t know, Max. You think she knows?”
“Right,” he agreed.
Her hand came to his face and she stroked his cheek and tried to get him to look in her eyes. “You have a baby face,” she said.
“I hate shaving,” he murmured.
She kissed his cheek.
He asked her, “Is this...how weird is this for you?”
“Lee? Pretty weird. I wish Ken hadn’t said anything. It makes it weirder.”
“Why?”
She groaned and she put her fo
rehead against his shoulder. “He’s...” she started to laugh.
“What?”
“He’s not very...cool.”
“Aw, Maggie,” he laughed and he squeezed her arm and made her close her eyes.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” he said.
“I was embarrassed before. I never told you...something...”
“Yeah?”
She hesitated, worked her mouth around. At last, said, “You’re my only...Lee is the only other boy I slept with.”
“What?” He feigned surprise, horrified at the thought of her finding out he had hid in her closet.
“You and Lee. And then Jay. That’s it. Before you, there was only Lee.”
“Oh,” he said. Then to be supportive, said, “I thought...I thought maybe...Remember I said that?”
“You were right,” she said. “Do you think...when you met me and we finally...did it...did you think I was good?”
“Maggie...” he rolled his eyes.
“No, really, Max, I thought about it a lot back then. I worried so much...”
“I didn’t think anything except how much I was in love with you.”
“Aw, Maxy,” she said and she kissed his shoulder.
“Really. You were great. I didn’t think at all that you were inexperienced. He slipped an arm around her, and they sat awhile in her spacious music room, squished together in an uncomfortable chair. “I’m going to have dinner with the boy my fiancée lost her virginity to?”
“You are,” she said. “Max?”
“What now?”
“It was only one time with Lee. We didn’t date.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Yeah. I only had sex one time before I met you.”
He put his hand over her knee that was folded in his lap and he kissed her forehead. “Was it good?”
“Max,” she laughed.
“Tell me,” he said. “If you want to.”
She wiggled herself closer to him, whispered, “Really?”
“If you tell me, I will have a complete knowledge of all the men you’ve slept with.”
She giggled. “You even watched,” she whispered.
“You were so amazing.”