“Of course we can never show our faces in Nobu again,” Danielle muttered.
“Well, I don’t know that I’d call it exciting,” Arlene said. “Honestly, I don’t know what got into Harold. In thirty years of marriage he never did anything like that.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Katie suggested.
“I liked Nobu,” Danielle said. “Elegant but still casual; that’s a hard combination to pull off.”
“Did you know he was in town, darling?”
“Yes, Mom,” the daughter admitted. “First he met with Max and then I had a meeting with him.”
“Well why didn’t you tell me? Then perhaps all this unpleasantness tonight could have been avoided.”
“Trust me, Mom, if tonight’s unpleasantness had somehow been avoided then some other unpleasantness would have cropped up.” Danielle then decided to lie to keep her mother from bugging her about it any further. “I was under orders from Max not to tell you,” she said.
“Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so?”
The privacy screen between the passenger compartment and the driver was up to allow the women to converse freely; so Danielle couldn’t see the movements of Max’s black Jaguar up ahead. It was only when Penry called his employer on the in-car phone that she learned something was amiss.
“Ma’am, sorry to interrupt but we are going to your house, correct?” the chauffeur asked her.
“Of course, why?”
“Well, ma’am, we’re only about a mile from the house but Mr. Bland has just made a turn down a street which won’t take him there. Shall I continue following him?”
“No,” Danielle decided. “Keep on to the house but slow down a bit; I’ll call him to find out what he’s doing. Be prepared to change direction, though.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
In a moment Danielle was connected to Max’s mobile. She asked him what was happening. The plan, outlined hastily as they had made their escape from Nobu, had been to bring Harold back to Trinity Manor and lock him and Arlene in a room to hash things out. It had also been decided that Harold should spend the night at the mansion for Danielle was convinced that her father was in no condition to be alone.
“I’m taking your father to his hotel,” Max told her to explain his deviation from this plan. “He’s gonna pack up and then catch the red-eye to New York.”
“But…why? How?”
“Look, it’s too complicated to go into while I’m driving. Suffice to say we had a man to man talk and he’s finally seeing things for what they are; he’s giving up the fight.”
“So he’s leaving? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Can I at least say goodbye to him?”
“Danielle, call him in a couple of days when he’s back in Phoenix; let’s not make this any harder; if he starts talking to you now who knows where he’ll turn up singing next.”
Danielle sighed.
“I guess you’re right,” she said. “Okay, fine. I suppose this saves us a lot of added drama tonight. Tell him I said goodbye and to have a safe trip.”
“Will do.”
“Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for whatever it was you did.”
Max chuckled dryly over the line.
“Don’t be so quick to thank me,” he said. “Because of me you may one day end up with a stepmother young enough to be your daughter.”
Three months later…Amsterdam
Ms. Nita Meadows and Ms. Arlene Corcoran…
(Attended by
Lord Max Bland of Dashwood Heath, author of “The Remarkable Reign of Pope Anne I”
as well as several other bestselling novels
AND
Ms. Danielle Edwards
AND
Ms. Katie Shaw)
…cordially invite you and a guest to the ceremony joining them together in
matrimony
DATE:
June 25
TIME
6:00 p.m.
LOCATION:
The Garrison Hotel, Amsterdam , Netherlands
Reception to follow
It felt traitorous to think it but Katie really couldn’t help it…
If only I was single, she thought for the umpteenth time. This time she was thinking it as she watched a stunning redhead cross the dance floor to get a closer look at an arrangement of azaleas, mums and birds of paradise the florist had set up near the Champagne fountain. The woman was simply delectable, dressed in a shimmering green dress and showing off the kind of legs Katie could easily imagine spending hours between. As if picking up Katie’s brainwaves the redhead suddenly looked over at Katie, slowly looked the blonde up and down, gave an inviting smile and then turned her attention back to the flowers.
“One thing I’ve always said about you, Katie, is that you have great taste in women,” a voice at Katie’s side said. It was Max. He handed his metamour one of the two snifters of brandy he was carrying. As he sipped his he gave the redhead Katie was admiring an appraising going-over. “She is definitely quite fetching,” he concluded.
“I know,” Katie said. “This place is a lesbian meat market and it’s driving me nuts, Max. If only Danielle was a nun,” she added jokingly.
Max said, “The only way Danielle will become a nun is if Versace becomes a religion.”
Katie had to agree, but it was still tantalizing to imagine it. Earlier that day, back when guests were walking into the ballroom at the Garrison Hotel prior to the wedding ceremony was when Katie’s mouth had started watering. It was as if Nita were friends with every beautiful lesbian in Europe—a dazzling assortment of women of all sizes, colors and shapes…running the gamut from barely-old-enough-to-buy-a-cocktail to over-fifty-but-still-mouthwatering. And as this appetizing smorgasbord filled the rows of seats in the ballroom Katie just couldn’t prevent the many adulterous thoughts from entering her mind, first regarding a black woman with high cheekbones; then regarding a Lana Turner-esque blonde; then regarding a youngster of no more than twenty who kept making eye contact with Katie during the ceremony; then another black woman whom nobody could seem to keep their eyes off of; and now this redhead, at the reception in the hotel’s beautiful atrium. In short, Katie had been in a perpetual state of arousal for a few hours now and was beginning to feel like a fat kid cruelly locked in a candy store where all the candy was guarded by Rottweilers and laser beams.
The ceremony marrying Arlene and Nita had been simplicity defined but it hadn’t started out being planned that way. In fact, if Nita and Arlene had had their druthers—especially with Arlene warming up to the wedding planning business—the ceremony would have rivaled that which had joined Charles and Diana many years back. However, two months ago they made a crucial mistake.
A strategy session had been held at Trinity Manor which included not only the two brides but Danielle and Katie—who were also having fun taking part in the planning. The discussions had started off safely behind closed doors, in Danielle’s home office, but after a few hours eventually everyone had gotten hungry and it was decided to move the talks to the kitchen. Unfortunately for them, Max, who had been in his study all that time, had also gotten hungry and had walked in on the four women continuing their strategizing. When he overheard talk about the logistical difficulties in having trained hawks swoop down from the heavens with the wedding rings while an all-male choir sang Ave Maria and Mummenschanz performed an interpretive dance about rainbows he said, as he left the kitchen with an pear from the fridge: “Be sure to videotape all that nonsense so I can watch it when you return home.”
After that the paring down began. Just the mere possibility that Max Bland would not attend their wedding so frightened Arlene and Nita that they went right back to the drawing board. Gone were the hawks, the choir, Mummenschanz, the readings of three Audre Lorde poems, the vignette, the chimpanzees, the photo montage set to music, the short film and anything else which risked causing the
ceremony to run longer than ten minutes—the amount of time Danielle figured they had before Max would literally walk out of the event. Still, though the ceremony was short it was classy and very romantic, with Nita even managing to squeeze in an Audre Lorde poem after all (albeit a short one). At its end, when the two brides kissed, the ballroom erupted into thunderous applause and the world had yet another gay couple legally married beneath the firmament.
***
Though they did not get to plan the wedding ceremony of their dreams Arlene and Nita found ample compensation for this in the fact that their nuptials would be featured in a BBC documentary. Because Max still considered the idea of a documentary about him stupid, he had suggested to Emily that she instead do a film about the modern lesbian woman. The BBC loved the idea and gave Emily the go-ahead to produce and direct her documentary and this gay wedding in Amsterdam constituted the first scenes she was filming with her crew. Here at the reception Emily, her sound technician and her lone cameraman were roving the atrium interviewing wedding guests on camera.
When the redhead eventually left the flower arrangement to disappear once more into the crowds of people mingling throughout the atrium Katie’s eyes alighted on the blonde filmmaker; so did Max’s. Emily was currently in a discussion with the sound technician and this wasn’t the first time today that Katie and Max had allowed their eyes to drink her in.
“Even dressed like Steven Spielberg she’s a fox,” Katie murmured.
“Tell me about it,” Max concurred.
Emily looked over at the two of them and smiled, Katie returning it with the most winning one in her arsenal; she knew she should have broke eye contact then but was powerless to do so. For his part, Max just nodded at his former assistant.
Initially, Danielle was not at all happy that Max had suggested to Emily his idea, but of course, she knew she had no leverage with which to argue. With all the aggravation Max had had to put up with over the past few months thanks to her screwball family Danielle was powerless to veto this plan.
“Why can’t I look away, Max?” Katie asked in alarm, her eyes still locked with Emily’s.
Max laughed. He took hold of Katie’s arm and turned her so she was facing him again.
***
Dinner would not be served for another half an hour so hardly anyone was sitting at any of the immaculately dressed tables, each with a centerpiece of Steuben glass, and so some of the guests were dancing to the Caribbean rhythms offered by the dreadlock-coiffed Jamaican band while the rest were merely mingling. Waitresses dressed entirely in black made the rounds with trays of hors d’oeuvres prepared by the most recent winner of Britain’s Master Chef program or with flutes of Champagne. The waitresses were to a one strikingly beautiful; hand-picked by Nita they provided a nice bit of eye candy for all the gay women present as they worked the room.
“How are you holding up?” Katie asked Max.
In reply, Max said, “Have you ever been to Disneyland?”
“Of course.”
“Well, you know how when the guy dressed in the Mickey Mouse costume comes out into the park and he’s instantly swarmed by all the kiddies?”
“Yeah.”
“This wedding is Disneyland and I’m Mickey Mouse.”
“Poor thing,” Katie said with a chuckle. Indeed, looking over Max’s shoulder she could see a number of women staring at the author, obviously wanting to come over to chat with him.
“I never understood why you won’t just allow yourself to enjoy your celebrity at events like these,” Katie said.
“And I never understood why my behavior still surprises you.”
“Touché,” Katie said clinking her snifter with his.
“I mean, can you believe that there is one woman here who brought copies of all of my novels to this wedding? She cornered me at the bar when I was getting our drinks and wouldn’t let me go until I signed every book. And she’s not the only one. I’ve been signing copies of Pope Anne since the damn ceremony ended. Then there’s another woman who got a hold of me and spent twenty minutes showing me the eleven—eleven!—Pope Anne tattoos she has; one of which is in a location I’m not sure even her gynecologist knows about.”
Katie laughed.
“Anyway, forget about all that,” Max instructed, downing the remainder of his brandy. “I’ve resigned myself to it being a long night. In the meantime, have I told you that you look ravishing, Ms. Shaw?”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Bland,” Katie said with a small curtsey. Arlene and Nita had in fact chosen quite stunning gowns for their co-maids of honor: identical magenta Versace numbers that were like second skins.
“You look quite handsome yourself,” she complimented.
“I’m just a guy in a tux.”
“But by far the best-looking guy in a tux at this wedding,” she said, straightening his rose boutonniere.
***
Two hours later dinner had been served, the speeches had been made and the party was in high gear. From her seat at the wedding party’s table an exhausted Danielle watched Arlene and Nita dancing to a fast-paced song that was a fusion of Caribbean and Spanish rhythms. It surprised Danielle to see just how good a dancer her mother was. She remembered that when she was growing up Arlene had been involved in numerous social activities in Fountain Hills and that one of them was a dancing club of some sort. Every three weeks or so a babysitter would show up at their house on Seminole Lane and Arlene and Harold would go out to an event at the Fountain Hills Sheraton ballroom to spend the night dancing with their bridge friends, their Rotary Club friends, their PTA friends, et al. During Danielle’s teenage years, when a babysitter was no longer necessary, her parents would graciously invite their only daughter to come along to those soirees but at that time in her life there were fewer things the future bank president considered more ghastly than the idea of spending a Friday night out dancing (dancing!) with her parents and their friends.
She’s quite good, the daughter considered, noting also that Arlene was far better than Nita who seemed to accept the fact that as a white middle-aged British woman she would never have the moves of Christina Aguilera and so just kept her feet relatively still and merely swayed a bit more or less in time with the beat.
Turning her eyes from her mother Danielle now found Katie and Max. Max was seated at one of the guests’ tables telling a story to an assembly of about two dozen women who were gathered around his chair hanging on his every word and laughing uproariously whenever he cracked a joke. Remarkably, he seemed to be enjoying himself; Danielle had thought that by now he would have retreated to his suite upstairs never to be seen again until it was time to board the flight back to London.
Katie was sitting on Max’s lap, her arm around his shoulders.
Those two have been real chummy today, Danielle thought. This was not the first time she had caught sight of them being somewhat intimate with one another. That morning, after breakfast, they had walked out of the restaurant holding hands; later, just before the wedding ceremony started, Katie had rested her head on Max’s shoulder while waiting for the two brides to appear to be escorted down the aisle; later still, at the reception Danielle had espied them both in a corner of the atrium, alone, sipping brandies and chatting, their body language such that it was clear they wanted no interruption.
Perhaps it was because she was tired (she had been up since six that morning); perhaps it was because she was feeling guilty for not having had a chance to spend any quality time with either Katie or Max today (being the daughter of one of the brides kept her busy) or perhaps it was because she was buzzed on the really good Champagne being poured but Danielle suddenly felt worried as she watched her two spouses. Katie had never been with a man, Danielle reminded herself; she had known she was gay way back at age thirteen and had never attempted to discover if she was wrong. But Danielle had read about gay women and men whom, after developing a strong emotional bond with a member of the opposite sex, allow curiosity to get the better of them a
nd decide to, well, give it a shot…just to see what it’s like or just to see if it succeeds in strengthening that bond. In fact, several of Danielle’s own friends had warned her about the possibility of such a thing happening between Max and Katie…and they had examples: one’s gay brother having sex frequently with a female study partner at med school; another’s lesbian cousin getting into bed with a male neighbor she took a pottery class with.
Would Katie put the moves on Max? Danielle wondered.
And if she did, would Max respond?
Years ago, back when they were still living in New York, a frightening thunderstorm had driven both Danielle and Katie to seek comfort in an annoyed Max’s bed. Once under the covers they both clung to the writer as if he was rock in a tempest-tost sea. Danielle had been nude; Katie had been wearing only a t-shirt. Soon, Danielle discovered that Max had an erection. The storm forgotten, Danielle had angrily accosted Max with this fact and, surprisingly, he jumped out of the bed, nude himself because he never slept in pajamas, and stood before the two women with his hard-on in full view.
How could he help but have an erection? he threw back at Danielle. Two sexy women hop into his bed and cling to him and his body is not supposed to respond? It was, he stated, like asking one of Pavlov’s dogs to ignore the dinner bell.
To make matters worse, Danielle recalled now that while Max was standing there, Katie’s eyes never left his impressive erection—and Katie was a woman who enjoyed large things penetrating her.
Briskly, Danielle shook her head. Down that path madness lay and she shouldn’t allow herself to even consider the notion. Instead, she pushed away her half-finished flute of Champagne—she’d lost track of how many she’d already had—and swore that for the rest of the night only mineral water would pass her lips. She tried to catch Max’s eye. When she succeeded she indicated that she wanted both he and Katie to come over to her. Max nodded but indicated that he wanted to finish his story first.
Two for One-Relatively Speaking (The Two for One series) Page 33