The food and conversation was nice, but Celeste found herself seeking Frank out in the crowd. She would get annoyed at herself for doing so, resolve to quit it, then find herself doing it again a few minutes later.
After giving them time to finish seconds and digest, the DJ went right to work breaking the ice with the “Electric Slide.” All the black folks present got right into it. By halfway through the song, most of the white folks were stepping, as well.
Lost enjoying herself in her own little world, Celeste didn"t notice at first that Frank was in the mix, and moving pretty good, too. On either side of him wereNikita and one of Shauna"s cousins, both of them moving seductively—probably for the benefit of Tyrell, who must have been in heaven with so many single sisters around.
Celeste tore her eyes away from Frank and went back to enjoying herself. When that song and the obligatory“Cupid Shuffle” were done, everyone gathered around the cake and, after much clowning, sang for Miles before he blew out the candles.
While Miles cut the cake and Shauna handed out pieces, her father stepped up in front of them and raised his voice to make everyone quiet down. He cleared his throat.
Uh-oh, Celeste thought. He may not like Miles, but this would be major-league bad taste to voice his resentment now.
“My name is Lamar Gales,” he said. “Shauna"s father. We met Miles almost a year ago. When we found out…”
Shauna"s mother cleared her throat and flashed her husband a warning scowl.
“When Ifound out,” Mr. Gales amended, “that Shauna was seeing some white guy, I was kinda" concerned.”
Both Shauna and her mother harrumphed and rolled their eyes. Some others chuckled nervously. Miles blushed.
“Hey now, I"m gonna keep it real, aight? Where I come from, there"s reason to be suspicious about this kind of stuff. Know what I"m sayin?”
Now Mr. Gales turned to face Miles directly. “Miles, I may have treated you wrong. I probably threatened you. Hell, I don"t even remember half the stuff my wifesays I did.”
The gathering laughed.
“I apologize, Miles. From what I can tell, you treat my daughterright.” He inhaled, then, grudgingly, admitted, “Seems she kinda" likes you a little bit, too.”
More laughter. Shauna side-stepped over and elbowed her father in the ribs, then they hugged.
“Anyway,” Mr. Gales said, “I want to thank you for inviting me despite all that. And happy birthday.”
The crowd clapped and shouted. Shauna let go of her father and homed in on Miles, hugging and kissing him so brazenly that their guests oohed and ahhed and cracked jokes about them getting a room. Frank came over and made some kind of snide comment that caused Shauna to roll her eyes and slap at his arm.
The DJ played one more song before announcing it was time for the movie. It was an old musical with an all-black cast, including Dorothy Dandridge and Harry Belafonte, called Carmen Jones. Most of the guests ignored it, continuing on in their conversations. Celeste found herself drawn into the plot, though, trying to follow it over the noise of the party.
During one musical number, Frank slid into the chair next to her. “Are you able to hear it?” he asked.
“Kind of,” she replied, remembering her conversation with Shauna and keeping polite.
“At my house, I usually play the best film first in the double feature,” he said. “The second one is usually either funny, or so bad that it"s funny. It works out good because folks are usually a bit sloshed by that time.”
Celeste allowed herself to see the humor in this and cracked a smile.
“Here, I kinda" figured everybody would stay pretty much sober,” he went on. “I"m saving the heavy-hitter for last. I figured a musical would help settle everybody in. You like it?”
“Well, it"s an interesting character study,” she said. “Social anthropologists would have a field day with this.”
His lips parted in one of those grins that could be classified a silent laugh.
“Some of the music sounds familiar, too,” she said.
Somebody called for Frank. He turned to shout a reply, then turned back to her. “It"s from a pretty famous opera. But anyway, I"m glad you"re enjoying it. If you ever want to watch it without all the distractions, I can burn a DVD copy for you.”
With that, he rose from the chair and went to the person who had called him.
A moment later Shauna settled into the seat next to her. “Frank is really going out of his way to be nice to you,” Shauna said. “Would you at least be civil to him?”
“Are you talking about just now?” Celeste asked. “I was civil. I was even polite! Not a single dagger shot out of my eyes.”
Shauna gave her that scrutinizing mother stare, as if she were the elder of them.
“Cross my heart!” Celeste said.
“Okay,” Shauna said. “I could only see the backs of your heads, but it looked like the same old Stonewall Celeste, from where I was.” Celeste made a crossing motion over her breast to confirm her sincerity.
“Do me a favor, Celeste: Make an effort, okay? He"s not an axe- murderer or stalker or anything like that. I know you"re not a bitter, hateful woman. But sometimes it"s hard convincing my other friends of that.”
Shauna left then, leaving Celeste feeling stung.
Bitter? Hateful? That"s how Celeste often thought of her mother, and sometimes Nikita. Yet from appearances at this party, Nikita was a bubbly social butterfly. And Celeste was coming off bitter and hateful? Who'da' thunk it?
Celeste found the bathroom and examined herself in the mirror. She did look uptight. She closed her eyes, massaged her temples and eyelids, and concentrated on her breathing for a few moments.
Let the past go.
She emerged from the bathroom with a friendly smile and sought out Frank. He was deep in conversation with some of his friends. Even Miles" mother, Nikita and one of Shauna"s cousins listened attentively, hovering on the edges of the group.
Intense and animated, Frank said, “It"s kind of scary when you think about it. An artist fabricates this…this artificial context in order to get the message across. You concoct an elaborate lie in order to sell what you believe is an ultimate truth.”
“I wouldn"t exactly call it a lie,” Gary said.
“Call it art,” Frank said. “Call it „creative license," or whatever you want, but it"s not truth. Truth is boring, to most people. You have to season it up, to make it palatable. You remember that movie The Untouchables?”
“Brian De Palma, wasn"t it?” the videographer asked, from behind his camera eyepiece.
“Almost nothing in that film was factual,” Frank said.
“It was a true story,” Miles" mother protested.
“Based on a true story. Elliot Ness really did go after Al Capone. Aside from that, it was all fabricated. Okay, take poetry: A poet has something she wants to say, right? Let"s say it"s about something that really happened. She could just pin a newspaper clipping on her fridge if she was satisfied with that. But no, she wants to get at some deeper truth she perceives in the story. First of all, she has to arrange it into whatever poetic formshe"s shooting for, right? So she"s got to add words here and there to get the rhythm measured, and so on.”
That"s assuming it"s rhyming poetry, Celeste wanted to say, Not the freestyle verse so popular now.
“On top of that, she"s gonna embellish this, ignore that, completely fabricate this…all in order to emphasize what she thinks important in the story. It"s eighty percent artificial by the time she"s done! But if she"s skilled and talented, she could win a Pulitzer or Nobel or guest appearance on Oprah.”
The group, hanging on his every word, laughed collectively.
“Now put it to music,” Frank went on, “especially if the musician is just as skilled and talented, and, I mean, it can make people cry.”
A few listeners chuckled again.
Celeste had pondered the very same things before. Songs like the Beatles" “"Till There Was You�
�� or Kanye West"s “Jesus Walks” were good examples, she thought, of how the right lyrics, with the right musical accompaniment, could overwhelm her emotions sometimes, albeit for different reasons.
“Music is powerful,” Frank said. “That movie I just showed… When you listen to the music sang in the original language—assuming you don"t speak French—there"s one song especially that"s just beautiful. The woman"s voice rings out like a bell, and you"re just sure that she"s musically pontificating on the most pure, noble, honorable sentiments a human being could sing about. But then when you hear Dorothy Dandridge translating it into the language we speak, you realize that woman with the beautiful voice like a bell is bragging about how she uses sex as a weapon to emotionally destroy all the men who fall in love with her. And she"s proud of it!”
They laughed again.
“She"s a playa!” Nikita said.
“A playerette,” Phil said.
They all laughed some more.
This was weird. This was the sort of conversation Celeste had missed since college. And Nikita, about as intellectual as a tabloid newspaper, was an active participant, while Celeste felt like an outsider. She left them to find a wine cooler.
10
Frank was relieved to see Shauna"s father bury the hatchet with Miles…and not in him.
He stepped over to Miles and Shauna and, in an effeminate lisp, said, “Oh, that"s so sweet! Are we going to see Jews and Palestinians embracing each other, too? Dogs and cats putting aside their differences?”
Shauna slapped at him. “Not funny, Frank. You don"t know what a big deal that is for my father to say all that.”
Miles nodded, vigorously. “Dude, I thought he was ready to take a swing at me a few times, early on. This is really a milestone for us.”
“I know,” Frank said, and gave Shauna a hug. “And I really am happy for you.”
“You just have to make a joke out of everything,” Shauna said, reluctantly hugging him back. “It"s a defensive mechanism because you"re afraid of your own emotions.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Frank said, backing out of the embrace. “Slow your roll, Doctor Freud!”
“Hey,” Miles said, nodding toward the DJ booth and the movie screen. “Thanks a lot for doing all this, bro.”
“No worries, Bowser. And by the way, the video projector and screen are yours, now. Happy birthday.”
Shauna"s jaw dropped. Miles" eyes bugged out.
“No way, dude!”
“Way,” Frank assured them.
Shauna almost got choked up, and Miles couldn"t stop thanking him. Frank cracked some more jokes and retreated to arrange for the first movie to start.
While Carmen Jones played, most of the guests socialized and grazed on dessert or snacks. He noticed Celeste sitting by herself, paying attention to the movie.
He wouldn"t classify her as shy or a wallflower, but she really did seem to march to the beat of her own drum. This intrigued him to no end.
Frank approached to try to talk to her again. To his amazement, she seemed to welcome conversation. He didn"t catch any of those ballbreaking “I"m too damn good to talk to you, white boy” vibes this time. Not wanting to push his luck, or keep her from enjoying the rest of the film, he left her alone whenone of Miles" friends beckoned him.
After that first movie finished, Gary asked him about his next music video. That started a discussion about videos, film, music and art in general that went on for quite a while. Lots of guests joined in. The debating was friendly, and Frank enjoyed spouting off his opinions when people seemed interested. At one point, glancing at the different faces around him, he noticed Celeste walking away from the clique.
The first thought that occurred to him was: Man, what a nice ass! Then, after some silent self-reprimand, he felt disappointment that she had been in the group and he hadn"t even noticed. Damn tunnel vision again.
Why hadn"t she joined in the conversation? After their talk about the Beatles and Rolling Stones, he was eager to hear more of her insights. She was a thinker, and examined things like art and music well beyond the superficial aspects.
Frank let his end of the conversation fizzle out and wandered away to arrange the start of the second movie. Afterwards he got a beer and snuck outside through the front door where he could be alone for a moment.
Tunnel vision. The double-edged sword. How many mistakes had he made, opportunities had he missed, because of his tendency to zoom in on one thing and so narrow his focus that every other thing went unnoticed?
Frank could feel his mind trying to dwell on that again, which would lead him to another fit of introspection, and depression. But this was Miles" birthday, and his friends didn"t need the dark, gloomy cloud Frank was in danger of bringing back inside with him.
Let the past go. Let the past go.
He went back inside, wrestled another beer out of the ice chest, and visited the snack table. There were still some crackers and cheese left, but a woman was there before him, taking her sweet time, and to reach around her would be rude. It was hard not to notice her stunning curves, with her shapely booty sticking out right at him as she bent over.
He felt a twitch in his loins and sighed. This was a welcome distraction that could take his mind off his failures and shortcomings.
Noticing his presence, the woman craned her neck to look behind at him. He almost did a double-take. She was one of those women.
“Can I get you something?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Name. Phone number. Work schedule and social networking info.”
She scofflaughed, shaking her head. But she couldn"t quite hide the smile, either. She walked away, still shaking her head. He couldn"t help but enjoy the view of her hips rolling as she went.
Frank now had an erection painfully straining against his boxers. He really regretted turning down Violet"s offer of carnal gratification. Who would have thought there would be just as much lusty eyecandy at Miles" birthday as at Frank"s own movie parties?
The fine sister turned back and caught him staring. She shook her head again, still smirking. He smiled at her.
Years ago he could never have imagined himself acting so boldly toward women. And if he had overcome his terror long enough to feed some girl a line like he just had, her rejection would have crushed him to the point he wouldn"t have wanted to show his face in public ever again.
Why couldn’t I have…?
He checked himself before the regret and depression joined forces for another attack on his state of mind.
The next movie was A Bronx Tale. Frank picked it thinking Miles would probably enjoy the gangster story, while Shauna would like the romantic subplot involving a mixed couple. As he had planned, the guests felt comfortable enough now to sit and watch it, and the din of the party died down.
After the movie, the DJ took over again, toned down a bit now that it was late and folks weren"t as rowdy. Frank found himself pulled into a conversation about the movie, which evolved, somehow, into a comparison of film directors Francis Ford Coppola and Quentin Tarantino.
Frank spotted Celeste digging through the ice chest and excused himself to wander over. As he arrived, she pulled her hands out of the ice, shook them, then tucked them under her armpits for warmth.
“Are all the wine coolers gone?” she asked.
“Wait right here,” he said, and rushed to the kitchen where he had some extras stashed away. He brought back a four-pack, handed her one and put the others in the ice.
She struggled with the cap for a moment before he took the bottle from her, twisted the cap off and handed it back.
“Thanks,” Celeste said. “My fingers are frozen.”
“No worries,” he said, secretly wishing he could warm her hands up inside his own.
“So,” she said, taking a sip. “You want to be my friend.”
Frank laughed, nervously.
Her deep brown eyes pierced into him as she waited for a verbal answer.
“Yeah,” he said,
forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I would.”
“Why is that, Frank?”
The skepticism in her tone bothered him.
“Well,” he replied, “quite honestly, I find you an interesting person. I like what I see, and I"d like to see more.”
“That"s a good line,” she said.
“It"s not a line,” he said. But I’d feed you a line if I thought it would work. “I mean, you obviously need some remedial education concerning the Rolling Stones, but other than that, I find your opinions pretty savvy.”
She laughed, and it was an intoxicating sound. “Thanks.”
“See, that didn"t hurt, right? I don"t bite… hard.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Austin Powers?”
He laughed. “Oops. Caught in the act of plagiarism.”
“Shauna"s my best friend,” Celeste said. “And I know you"re a friend of hers, through Miles. But that doesn"t mean I"m down for the swirl, too.”
Frank raised his hands defensively. “I understand you"re not on the market for a boyfriend. I respect that. I"m just offering friendship, okay?”
“Guys say that. But the whole time they"re assuming that friendship will lead to a whole lot more. And sooner rather than later.”
“You"d be surprised how patient I can be,” Frank quipped.
Celeste twisted her lips and began to walk away. Frank gave her shoulder a light, restraining touch.
“Hold up, Celeste. I"m sorry—it was just a joke.”
“Was it? I"ve heard about you, you know.”
His turnto arch an eyebrow. “Heard about me?”
“You"re a player.”
He laughed. “Really? That"s news to me.”
“I"ve heard about your parties and all the women up in your house. How you"re with a different girl every week.”
Frank"s face heated up. Where was she getting this information? “That"s a bit of an exaggeration. But I didn"t know that dating different people makes you a player. Have you dated more than one person?”
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