by Matt Lincoln
“Okay fine. But you didn’t answer my other question. Could I bring Cecily and go as a doubles team? Might make the whole thing a little less intimidating for everyone? Plus, I wouldn’t mind meeting more of the friends that you’re making. Buffers are also a good thing on dates these days.” LaShawn asserted all of this with some influence of authority that he certainly didn’t have, but I gave it to him. He was my friend, after all.
And he wasn’t wrong, in a way. The extra company might take the edge off if it became awkward and uncomfortable tonight. “It’s black tie, my friend. Are you sure that you want to change things up on the officer right out of the gate?” I was torn just thinking about it. On the one hand, it would give me a social bearing with the detective that would probably come in handy later, plus it would take the pressure off of each of us.
But on the other hand, a double date? And imposing this on Verity with only hours before the occasion was rude, even I could see that. I could hear LaShawn texting, so I had to assume he was going for it, anyway. I put his call on hold and texted Verity as well.
‘Hey, I mentioned the art exhibit to a friend of mine, and he asked if he could bring his date to it as well? Is this possible? If not, it’s not a problem. Looking forward to tonight either way.’ I hoped that was a good balance of decorum and intent.
I didn’t know which way I was leaning more, for or against this extra company. But I got my answer from Verity right away. ‘Yes, that’s going to be exciting. Weir will be so pleased for more people to be showing up. And me too.’
I supposed the last part was about looking forward to tonight. So, I switched back to LaShawn’s call. “Hey, Verity okayed your tagalong. So just dress up nice, and I’ll pick you up at about eight-thirty. Can you have the detec--- Cecily meet us at your place?” I wasn’t on a first-name basis with many law officers, but it wouldn’t do to be calling her ‘Detective’ all night.
“Not a problem. She’s stoked, Jake. She keeps going on about a chance to get ‘dolled up.’ I didn’t know people talked like that anymore.” He chuckled.
I was as surprised as he was but in a good way. Maybe she would bring a little fun and excitement to his life. I could only hope so for his sake. If anyone needed a bright side, it was LaShawn Spindle.
11
Jake
I pulled up outside of LaShawn’s apartment complex in my Mercedes at 8:25 PM. I texted him to let them know that I was downstairs and waiting at their leisure. I had pulled out my tuxedo from its storage bag in the closet back at the condo. It was solid charcoal-black, with shawl lapels, and was lined in white silk inside. I wore a white textured dress shirt and a black silk bow tie, but I wimped out and went with the clip-on kind.
I tried my best to make my hair presentable but, in the end, the handsome rouge look wasn’t going anywhere, so I just accepted it. It had been an exceptionally long time since I’d had a chance to wear this tux, but it still felt as good as it ever did. The only problem that I could see was going to be topping this. Where does one go from a formal, black-tie event date when we’d be looking our best to planning and executing a second date?
Within a few minutes of sitting in the loading spot, I saw a dapper-looking LaShawn heading out of the complex door, and damn if he didn’t look almost as good as me. He wore a double-breasted tux in reversed tradition, meaning that the jacket and tie were white, and the lapels and pants were black. His shirt was a deep royal blue that stood out with a style all its own. I was momentarily jealous, but that passed quickly.
I saw an absolutely gorgeous woman with him and took her to be Detective Cecily Musik. She had dressed to astonish, no doubt about that. The dress was overall black, but it was trimmed in extravagant gray lace on the skirt and all along the sleeves, torso, and neck. The sleeves tapered down to a sheer material that was a classier way of showing some skin, I supposed. She looked stunning, with her hair pulled up and tendrils floating around her face in curls. Cecily was quite a vision.
I let LaShawn do his gentlemanly thing and open the back door for her to slip into my vehicle. I turned and introduced myself from the front seat. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Jake Header.” I reached back to shake her hand, as it would have been awkward to do more.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Cecily Musik.” She shook my hand, or my fingers, actually, as LaShawn got into the back seat next to her. “This was very nice of you to invite us tonight, Mr. Header. I haven’t been out on the town for, well, ages. And the art exhibition sounds very sophisticated. I appreciate it, thank you.”
“Well, I’m glad it all worked out,” I replied. “A little thing I forgot to mention was that once we get to Verity’s, we’ll be switching out vehicles. She wanted to take something a little more… notable, maybe.” I was going to leave it at that. This was her event, and she would best know how to manage it.
“That sounds mysterious,” Cecily stated with a smile, all the while looking at LaShawn with dazzling eyes. I felt so out of place that I couldn’t get to George’s place soon enough. I needed some backup to handle those two tonight.
By the time I pulled up in front of George’s place, the back seat was a haven for bad flirting and mutual attraction at its finest. I got out of the driver’s seat, smoothed out my tux, and made my way to the front door. I knocked with the Caduceus hanger and waited. Verity opened the door, and my mouth dropped open when I saw her.
She was wearing a deep pink dress that ended right above her knees. The left shoulder had a flowing fabric that came to her elbow, leaving the right arm bare. It was gathered at the waist with a tiny golden clasp. She looked amazing, and I had to tell her so.
“Verity, you look astounding. I already feel out of place.” That was partly said in jest, but not entirely. It made her smile. She had a golden jeweled headband on to keep back the massive set of black curls covering her head. Her earrings matched her necklace and her bracelets. She was dressed to kill, maim, and pillage.
I reached in to kiss her on the cheek and then gestured for LaShawn and Cecily to join us at the parked BMW, waiting for us only feet away. Once she and I got out, Verity was a bundle of nerves and excited energy as we playfully held hands and talked about what was going to happen at the event tonight. I barely kept her attention long enough to introduce them all.
“LaShawn Spindle is an old friend of mine,” I announced, beginning the introductions. “He’s an At-Risk counselor at the Edler Memorial Community Center. And his charming and delightful date is Detective Cecily Musik with the MPD.” I could barely take my eyes off of Verity. She was so intriguing. “And this is Verity Yout. Art Historian and recent transplant to the Miami area.” That didn’t do her justice, though, and I knew it.
I let them exchange ‘hellos’ and ‘pleasure to meet yous’ before I leaned in to whisper at Verity. “You really do look amazing.” She beamed at me.
Verity asked who wanted to drive, and LaShawn volunteered as long as Cecily got the passenger’s seat. We agreed and set off, all climbing into our designated seats and positions. I couldn’t help but smile at her as we got cozier in the back seat of the BMW. “So, tell me what kind of things I should avoid tonight? I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Miami’s art elite.”
She chuckled. “Everyone that works for Weir has been invited, so all my new co-workers will be there. I’ve met all of them before, but only briefly. Tonight will be a big chance for me to make new contacts and showcase my knowledge.” She got a very solemn look on her face and added, “I might not be around too much, Jake. I mean, it’s a good thing that you brought some of your friends because I’m going to have to be making the rounds and---”
“Say no more. I get it.” I had expected it, actually. “This isn’t as much of a date as it is a social and business obligation. I’m glad that you let me escort you to it, though. It would have saved you a lot of trouble to just invite your dad instead.” I teasingly squeezed her hand to let her know that I wasn’t disappointed with this news or her cho
ice of dates.
“Well, it doesn’t last all night, you know. I was hoping that afterward, maybe we could spend some private time together.” She leaned in and breathed in my ear, “After we drop off your friends and all that.” She started to kiss my neck, and I liked where this was going already.
“I think I might be able to do that.” We kept everything friendly in the backseat until we reached the location of the event. Once there, we parked in the roped-off area and got ready for the exit from the car. Verity took a very deep breath and opened the car door to step out before I could make it around to open the door for her. “Sorry, I’m just so anxious.” She apologized to me for not waiting.
The structure had an old-world feel to it, with reliefs and columns decorating the solid-colored tan stone. The steps leading in were covered in a rich, black carpet with small, lit candles guiding us inside. It was a nice effect, and I could see Verity’s eyes grow wide as she prepared herself to go in. LaShawn and Cecily were practically connected at the hip, so I offered my arm to Verity, and we walked forward.
The entryway was glowing from probably hundreds of candelabras stationed in opportune areas, safely away from anything flammable. As we moved in, the main room was packed with servers and guests. The servers all wore light gray uniforms that would make them easy to distinguish. The guests wore a variety of elegant formal wear anyone would expect at a place like this.
Tuxedos, Sherwani and Tang jackets, and even a kilt-clad gentleman was noticeable from where I stood. The ladies were all dazzling in silks, sequins, and whatever else was fashionable.
The room itself was divided into small sections with stark white partitions leading to other exhibits and caches. Every surface was white or black to highlight the art and pieces the room displayed. It was stylish and drew your eyes well. I was admittedly impressed by the setup.
Verity had let go of my arm and was now holding onto my hand. She was kind of pulling me along and leading me to several people she must have recognized across the room. “There’s Weir. Come on. I can’t wait to introduce you.”
We had to push through the crowds civilly to get to where we wanted to be. LaShawn and Cecily were willingly lagging behind, already caught up in the displayed exhibitions and ambiance, not to mention one another. I caught a server going by and paused briefly to get us both a glass of Semillon white wine off the tray. I had to let go of Verity’s hand briefly, and she turned to check on me. I offered her a glass, and she smiled so brightly.
“Thank you!” she whispered before taking a sip.
We reached her destination to find four exquisite people watching the crowds. Verity reached forward and cheek-kissed a very frail and thin-looking man. He was wearing a deep purple satin tux with all black details, including his shirt and tie. He had silver hair but didn’t look to be more than thirty years old. I noticed several rings and bracelets on his fingers and wrists, all silver and plum-colored gemstones.
Verity stepped back and introduced us. “Jake? This is Weir. He’s the head of the business, Weir Art Restoration, Limited.”
I reached out to shake his hand, to which he responded in kind. “I am so happy that you’ve come here tonight, sir. Please feel free to peruse and drink it all in.” His voice was serious but practiced at being so. I smiled and thanked him as Verity introduced the others that were with him.
“This is Emiko. She’s the broker and the paperwork end of the team.” The young woman simpered and nodded toward us. She had on a very lovely embroidered robe, tied at her waist with links of silver chain. The white dress was leaving little to the imagination, with a plunging neckline and a front split. Her head was bald, but she wore a very pretty band around her smooth skull.
“And this is Arwa. He’s one of the restorers, alongside Weir.” He was much more friendly than the other two had been. He had on a brown fedora and a matching suit and tie that made him appear as if he’d stepped off of a gangster movie poster. He was smiling and motioned to my wine glass. “Good stuff, isn’t it? I also am a smidgen of an amateur sommelier.” He toasted me, and we drank. Verity beamed at me happily.
“Saving the best for last, Vee?” This came from the last of the four of her co-workers. She was a tall, heavyset woman with braids and ribbons in her brown hair. She wore a long, shapeless dress that looked to be plaid cotton, with little flowers marking the squared spaces. It was an odd contrast to the rest of the room and attire.
“Certainly,” Verity hesitated as she gestured to the woman, and I thought I could hear a little something off, like distrust in her voice when Verity said her name. “This is Dallis. She also does some restoration and is our buyer.”
I was confused. “Oh, I thought that your company only repaired art. I didn’t know that you---”
“She means that I buy the goods we need to do the work.” Dallis interrupted me without a pause. Now I noticed a subtle southern twang to her words. “Some paints and tools we need aren’t readily available here in America, so I have to get them from overseas. We never buy art. But we do sell it.”
Dallis had a greedy eye as she looked around at the exhibits and offerings about the room. “This group will sell anything that’s not connected to blood or bone. How else could we afford this kind of jamboree?” I saw the others slightly cringe at her use of those words, but they all kept their mouths shut. The tension was obvious between the quartet.
Verity slapped on a fake smile and pretended that it didn’t bother her. Sensing her discomfort, I spoke up and offered her a way out from it. “Verity, would you mind showing me around? I’m extremely excited to see what is being presented here.” I took her hand and led her away.
“Thank you,” she groaned as she followed me through the crowd. “I can’t stand that woman, but she’s part of the team, and a big chunk of the operation’s costs get taken care of by her.” Verity glanced back at the group. “She’s just so out of place with them. I don’t know how Weir ever thought that she’d be a benefit within the company.”
“Like you already said, if she takes care of the money situation, then that’s your answer.” It seemed pretty obvious to me. Priorities were plain in some instances when it came to money and business. I knew that firsthand.
Verity found it less so, though. She turned to me with doubt on her face. “This company isn’t like others, Jake. It’s about the love of art and the preservation of beauty and history. Yes, money has to be made, but not at the expense of true talent's integrity. We aren’t doing this for personal gain! It’s about the cultivation of the past, and…” She stopped, as her ire was rendering her speechless.
I let her finish and cool off, and then I offered this. “Verity, I don’t doubt your commitment to this for one second. But please, please be careful in understanding that other people might not feel the same as you do, like Dallis. She may be in it for different purposes, and that’s fine. It takes all kinds. That’s a natural thing.” I hoped that would smooth it over.
I turned my attention to the nearest painting and admired it. “I like Remedios Varo’s influence here. The artist was inspired more than they realized, I bet. The deeper meaning behind the eyes, the color palette, just the overall feel of danger. It’s nice to see that kind of reflection in a modern-day artist, don’t you think?”
But Verity wasn’t answering me. She looked close to tears and was shaking a little. “Verity, what’s wrong?” I took the glass from her hand in case she might need to sit or excuse herself.
“Nothing. I’m just… I’m worried that I’ve made a mistake.” That was a pretty open-ended statement, all things considered. I gestured for her to have a seat if she needed it, but she declined. “No, I’m just going to go use the restroom. I’ll be right back.” I watched her go and was unable to do anything as she headed for the ladies' room.
I found LaShawn and Cecily talking over a very melodramatic looking face mask on a pedestal. It was red with orange tears running up its face and into its tissue paper hair.
“Jake, settle this,” Cecily instructed as she stared at the piece. “Commentary of the public use of trauma as a means of social support or a backhanded comment on using your personal tragedies to conceal the outer pain of life?”
“Wow, that’s… oddly defined.” I wondered just how long they’d been discussing this. “I think, like all works of art, that it should be open to interpretation by the viewer. There’s no other way to describe it all, otherwise.”
“I see what you mean. He is a smart cookie,” Cecily joked and leaned on LaShawn’s arm. “Speaking of cookies, I’m starving. I need to hunt down one of those gray guys and steal a tray or two. I’ll be right back.”
She took off, giving me the chance to check in privately with my friend.
“So, how is the date going?” I inquired, but I had a pretty good idea that it was going well by the smile on his face.
LaShawn was looking quite pleased as his mood proved. “Man, she is something else. Like a firecracker wrapped up in a cuddly, plush flower or something.” He shook his head and laughed at himself. “That’s a terrible analogy. But she’s a crazy kind of fun, and cute and adorable and beautiful and…”
“Whoa, buddy. You met her like, last night. Slow it down, tiger.” I wasn’t teasing. He was getting way ahead of himself, and I didn’t want anyone, either of them, getting hurt by going this outrageously fast.
“No, I know. I do. But I just have this feeling, you know? The first time I saw her, I just… I knew that something important was about to start.” He stared off into the direction that she’d gone. “I love it, but it's terrifying as hell, too. But don’t worry.” LaShawn put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m not going to do anything stupid. I promise you, and myself, to not be an idiot.”