“Just don’t you start on them about grandbabies yet!” Declan warned his beloved wife. “We don’t want to scare this one away. I like her. She’s got some spunk. And I think our son is quite taken with her.”
“I won’t start on them, Dec—not yet,” Maggie grinned. “But I think it’s fair to say that our firstborn might have just found the one…”
# # #
“Excuse me, Kind Sir,” Maxine's shy voice echoed softly as she poked just her head out of the bedroom door. “Would you please help a girl out with her dress?”
Drew had been fussing with his bowtie in the standing mirror in the hallway and straightening his cufflinks when she called. The sweetness of her expression resounded against his ears, as he pulled in a deep breath, anticipating this moment he'd been longing for all afternoon. At last his little one was ready for the ball...
On the other side of the door, Maxine had been in panic mode, carefully applying her make-up and struggling to make sure that every last tendril was in place and perfectly pinned. Drew had offered to hire someone to do her hair and make-up to alleviate some of her stress, but Maxine insisted on handling every last brush stroke herself.
When Drew finally opened the door, he stopped—dead in his tracks as if trapped within the frame. His lips parted; his eyes softened as they cast upon Maxine.
Arms wrapped around her chest to hold the bodice in place while she waited for his assistance, Maxine couldn't help but to do a bit of staring herself. He looked so stunningly handsome in his simple black tux and tie, his hair—for once—in perfect place as if he were on stage, she mused to herself. The last time she’d seen him in a tux was on television at the Tony Awards. How times had changed…
Yet self-doubts began to surface. So typically Maxine, she fretted, wondering against his scrutiny if she looked appropriate—if she could actually play the role of date to Drew McKenzie that evening, if she truly measured up to the standards required for being there at his side and on his arm.
However, his gaze upon her left her slightly trembling in its wake. She'd wound her shiny locks into a French twist with tiny auburn ringlets playing so delicately around her face. The teal silk of the gown silhouetted every last curve of her body that he knew so well. Dangling and sparkling, the emerald earrings truly did accentuate the beauty of her honest green eyes. She’d even gained some weight, which pleased him to no end. He was simply elated to see a happy—healthier—Maxine standing before him, with a timid attempt to gather her confidence that he found so endearing.
By the time he smiled at long last, his silence had nearly killed her.
“Little one...oh, my sweet little one...” His stride was slow, closing the distance between them. “What the hell does a man say to the most beautiful woman in the world?”
His tenderness took the breath right out of her. “You like it?” she asked as his lips claimed hers almost chastely.
“I love it, Maxine...” he whispered. “Absolute perfection...I don't even think I'm going to make it through the cocktail hour.”
“You can tear this dress away from me later, Mack,” she teased and turned, allowing Drew to attend to the zipper. “But enjoy me in it for a little while, will you?”
“Oh, I am, Maxine. A little too much, I think...” Again, he took a step back just to take in the sight of her. “How about we have a little drink before we head up to the party? I’ll drive us. I don't expect you to climb the hill in that dress and shoes...”
Sigh, Maxine thought. Drew never—ever—missed a detail, down to the champagne already chilled in the ice bucket on the coffee table. He corked and poured, then handed a flute to Maxine.
“Wait!” she said as she linked her arm through his, then wrapped it back around to drink from her glass. “I've always wanted to do that!”
“My silly, gorgeous little one...” he smirked then sipped. “So are you ready for all of this tonight, Maxine? You know you're going to be the focus of everyone's attention...”
“Honestly, not really,” she admitted. However, Jeffrey was there to shoo away any unwanted media attention that might filter their way. “But it does come with the territory—and for you, I shall give my due diligence...”
“I'm quite sure you'll handle it all with poise,” he assured her and took her hand, his thumb stroking over her knuckles. “I wish you had the confidence in yourself that I have in you, little one.”
“I’m—we’re working on it,” she said. “But have I told you yet today just how wonderful you are?”
“Yeah, in the gardens this afternoon...in bed this morning...and I believe you also told me last night after that spectacular jack-o-lantern blowjob...” His smile teased her. “But you can always tell me again. You know I’m an actor. My ego needs constant care and feeding…”
“Thank you again for everything, Drew,” Maxine said. “You've made everything perfect this weekend...”
“I'll argue you on that one—but later...” He set his glass down, then took Maxine's from her hand. “Right now, we have a party to attend...” He bowed. “After you, Maxine...”
And to him, she turned, her gown swooping as she moved, then curtseyed. “Why, thank you, Kind Sir...”
# # #
As they made their very slow entrance to the party, Maxine realized that she'd never been to such a huge event in her life. There were simply hundreds of people. Everywhere. Guests. Attendants. Cocktail servers. All swarming around in circles.
And nearly every person they passed while winding through the throngs of well-heeled, couture-shrouded socialites wanted to chat with Drew.
Never letting go of Maxine's hand, he introduced her to far too many people that she'd never remember if she ran into them on the street—his mother's friends, father's business associates, a few people he'd gone to prep school with. She did recognize an occasional face from the theater, as several of Drew’s colleagues attended the annual event. Always polite, but quick and clever, he had such a practiced manner in dealing with so many people who demanded his attention, seemingly all at once. All the while, Maxine quietly stood by his side, dutifully smiling and nodding politely.
A band played somewhere far off in the distance. A few of Drew’s theater friends had even hopped on stage to belt a song or two while the guests filtered in. Eventually, they'd make their way to the dance floor, but for the moment, they had to maneuver through the crowd and find his parents.
Meanwhile, Maxine absorbed the dazzling surroundings—the decor trimmed with flowers, lighting and candles all in white; the exquisite fashions that rivaled any celebrity event; the absolute excess of wealth exuded from each and every corner. She knew that if she looked hard enough, she'd find Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan somewhere in the swarm.
Even with the cacophony of music and chatter closing in around them, Maxine could hear Drew's groan loud and clear. “Look out, my little one,” Drew said, “looks like the cat just dragged in the hair of the dog!”
“Drew! And little one!” Suddenly, Maxine's hand seemed to split from Drew's as Adam bounced between them and slung his arms around their shoulders. While she knew she probably should have slugged him for making fun of Drew‘s affectionate moniker for her, Maxine had to admit that Adam was just utterly hilarious. “Boy, you two cleaned up well...”
“And you don’t’ look so dingy yourself, Adam,” Maxine said, feeling dwarfed by his size as he stood between them, so dapper in his own tux.
“Oh, you're far too polite, Maxine,” Drew admonished. “It's after eight, Adam—you mean you haven't scored yet? Slow night for you. Perhaps you should go find someone...”
“Why, dear brother,” Adam began, “I thought I'd find Miss Maxine here and ask her for her first dance...”
“She’s all mine, bro,” Drew said, slinging his arm around Maxine's waist, reclaiming his honor. “Go find your own girlfriend.”
“Well, since Jillian decided to bail on us tonight, the prospects are nil,” he said, then turned to Maxine. “I
hear she’s your boss, Max. Is she…well…bossy?”
“The line—you’ve just stepped over it, Adam…” Drew fired his warning shot.
“Oh, how I love to upset your applecart, big bro,” Adam teased. “Okay, if I can’t dance with Jillian tonight—how about I take sloppy seconds with her junior publicist and steal the second dance?”
Drew shook his head.
“Third, Captain?”
“How about we work on the twelfth of never?” Drew suggested.
“How about...?” Adam stopped suddenly, flustered for the first time since Maxine had met him the day before. “Okay, that was a good one. I'll get you back, dude.”
“Drew!” The booming voice, nearly thunderous over the atmospheric noise surrounding them, stung Drew’s ears immediately. He’d know that shrill anywhere. “Drew! Over here!”
“Just when you think your life has sunk to an all-time low...” Drew muttered in Maxine's ear as a woman with a sleek raven bob cut just above her shoulders scurried over and threw her arms around him for a hug that wasn't reciprocated.
Ugh, Maxine groaned silently. Another one. This one had a bit of a Morticia Addams vibe about her, with that hair, her tight black satin gown and overflowing breasts that jiggled when she scuttled across the floor.
Well, it was time to walk proudly in those big girl shoes and show ‘em all who was indeed the Captain.
Before the woman even said hello, Maxine felt the crawl of her eyes from her French twist all the way down to the pool of her train, only to return to lock in on the emerald earrings that bejeweled her ears.
“Oh, Drew,” she said, leaning in for a second embrace. She saw Maxine. She’d even noticed that Drew was holding her hand. She was just ignoring her. “You look dazzling! I hear your show is opening soon. But we’re all waiting anxiously to see you perform tonight…”
“Yes, we are…” Maxine whispered softly, rolling her eyes at the nerve of this…this…trollop. Composure, she reminded herself, is everything.
“Oh, who’s this little waif?” she turned suddenly and asked Drew as if Maxine wasn’t in the room.
“This little waif would be Maxine,” she raised her voice and stepped closer to Drew’s side.
“This is my girlfriend,” he said. “And if you’d like, I can easily have you escorted off the property.”
“Oh, Drew, you are still so funny!”
“I wasn’t kidding.”
“I’m Lorna Devane,” she said. “Drew and I go…way back…”
However, Maxine wasn’t about to allow this woman to rattle her. She was dating Drew now, and he appeared about as interested in Lorna as he was in a total random stranger walking down the street. She had to concentrate on building her confidence if she ever planned to conquer her eating disorders and image issues. Starting right that moment seemed like the perfect time to Maxine. There would always be women fawning over Drew. She could either shrug it off and dismiss them…or sit and stew. And Maxine knew that having the last laugh was always the greatest victory.
While they fought like two toddlers the majority of the time, fraternal instinct was quick to rush in and save the day between the McKenzie boys, and Adam inserted himself into the rather awkward conversation unfolding before him.
“Lor-nahh…” he said, sweeping both of her hands into his while she squirmed against him. “How are ya, sweetcakes?”
Sometimes, Drew reasoned, there were perks to having a little brother who had absolutely no shame.
“Dance my pants off with me?” he said with an attempt to twirl her around but spun himself around instead with her resistance.
“At least you’re wearing pants today,” Lorna chirped. “I should be going now, I suppose, but I’ll see you around later, Mack….”
“Oh, no you fucking won’t!” Adam said the second Lorna wandered out of earshot.
“What the hell was that?”
“Drew’s prom date!” Adam laughed, nearly spilling his beer.
“Yeah—fifteen years ago,” he said, clutching his stomach as if in pain. “Why the hell does she still resurface every now and then to haunt me and to remind me of it?”
“She wants you, bro. But she can’t have you. The Captain’s gonna throw down!”
“Oh, this is all silly,” Maxine dismissed them both. Much to her surprise, she wasn’t jealous at all. In fact, she found Lorna’s behavior pitifully hilarious. She could even smell the vodka or whatever Lorna was drinking lingering upon her breath. “Besides, I’m a pacifist. I don’t take well to beatdowns.”
“Well, let’s just all forget about this for now,” Drew said. “We all have much more important things to focus on this evening…”
“Like…” Adam nodded to a corner not far off in front of them “…Aunt Frannie?”
There she stood right in between Ben and Jeffrey, having the most animated conversation at the entire party.
“Looks like another rescue is in store,” Adam said, cracking his knuckles.
However, as their trio stumbled into the conversation, they found that Ben was rather engrossed in all things Aunt Frannie.
“Truman Capote gifted that painting to her—I’m telling you, Barry,” Aunt Frannie insisted, her focus on no one else but Ben. Even Jeffrey couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise. “And she sat it on the mantle.”
“So you’re saying that one of the greatest writers of our day commissioned my grandmother’s official portrait?” Ben asked.
“Yes!” Aunt Frannie insisted. “And Andy was very pissed off that he wasn’t asked to do it. But your grandmother wasn’t into all those colors. So Capote chose some unknown.”
“Andy?”
Aunt Frannie shook her head in dismay. “Andy Warhol…” she explained. “She turned down a Warhol for some unknown artist!”
“Well, you’re certainly getting an education on your own family history this evening, Barry,” Jeffrey piped in at long last.
“Aunt Frannie, isn’t it time for you to sit down?” Adam interrupted suddenly.
“Oh, we’re having a blast here!” Ben rushed to say. “Do you know that Aunt Frannie here used to party with my grandmother? In our townhouse, Captain?”
“Really?” Maxine nearly lost her balance.
“Ben, you know that she’s not…exactly…uh…”
“No, Drew, for real,” Ben said. “She’s given me exact details—the furniture, the artwork, where the bathrooms are. She knows the townhouse.”
“One-oh-three, East 68th Street, right off Madison. North side of the street,” Aunt Frannie told them.
“Fuck…balls…” Maxine murmured.
Pivoting on his heels, Drew turned to Adam. “Shit…she’s right!”
“Well, then, Aunt Frannie, we’ll have to have you over for dinner one night,” Maxine suggested, narrowing her gaze upon the McKenzie boys. “Won’t we?”
“You live with Barry here?” Aunt Frannie’s eyes widened. “You really are a slut!”
“Parents!” Adam shouted suddenly, jumping up and down and waving his long arms in the air. “Hey—over here, please! Family crisis!”
“By the way,” Ben whispered in Maxine’s ear, “save me a dance, gorgeous…”
When at last the McKenzies finally made their way over, Maggie looked tired, but so very content with the flow of events so far. She had extreme hopes for the evening. With the state of the recovering economy, times were still very tight for foundations, and her usual donors were reluctant to dig as deeply as they usually had before the bubble burst. While she wanted to surpass every fundraising goal she’d set in the past, she feared that they’d miss their target.
“Look at you two!” Maggie said, leaning in toward Maxine and Drew for kisses on the cheek. “You look exquisite, Max. The dress, the jewelry, your hair. Just lovely.”
In moments like those, Maxine wished there was some magic pill that she could take to erase the flush from her cheeks. She hated to blush—and she hoped that she wasn’t sweating.
“See, Mags, at least we did well with one of them,” Declan mused.
“Excuse me, Daddy?” Adam chimed in.
“Oh, you look pretty, too,” Maggie said and kissed him. “Aunt Frannie, how are we here? Ben and Jeffrey keeping you company?”
“Yes, and she’ll actually be sitting at our table if we can make that quick change?” Jeffrey asked.
Spinning around with his back to Aunt Frannie and his mother, Adam fist pumped and mouthed, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Shit. We’re still stuck with him, little one…”
“Drew,” Maxine began with a squeeze of his hand, “we have each other…”
“Mom, I’m going to steal this lovely lady away for a bit,” Drew said. “I want to go have some fun with the paparazzi.”
“Of course, dear,” Maggie said. “You two should enjoy this evening...”
“Wait!” Jeffrey called out after them. “Fun and paparazzi aren’t two words that I like to hear in the same sentence. I’ll be right back, everyone. Drew’s publicist needs to do a bit of ‘handling’ here, I think.”
Just as they were about to make their break for the press tent, someone caught Drew’s attention yet again, and he had to stop and talk for a moment. However, Declan surprised Maxine when he stepped up beside her and gave her arm a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you for coming tonight, Maxine,” he said. “For Drew’s sake...”
“Oh, well, Declan, I...”
“No, really, Maxine,” he continued, “I’ve never seen him so happy as he’s been these last couple of weeks.”
“He makes me happy, too, Declan...”
“Take care of him for us, okay? And just know we’re always here for both of you...” Declan whispered and with that, he gave her a quick hug as Drew stepped in once again.
Maxine had no idea what to say—what to even think. The McKenzies had been so warm and welcoming, trying almost too hard to convince Maxine that she was indeed a part of the family. Yet Declan’s words left her both touched and terrified at the same time. Throughout this journey with Drew, she could only hope that she wasn’t setting her own self up for heartbreak. While Drew hadn’t given her any inclination of doubt so far, Maxine knew that all of this magic he’d brought into her life could disappear in an instant.
WRAPPED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Two Page 21