by Jenny Wood
“You got anything stronger back there?” Kayson whispered conspiratorially.
“Not to be served, though if you purchased a book of tickets when you walked in, you could exchange them for drinks from the bar.” He says helpfully, smiling more honestly now. His voice had an unfamiliar lilt to it, and I gathered he wasn’t from around here. I found myself wondering what his story was and why I liked the sound of his voice so much.
“You’re an angel,” Kayson said, excusing himself and his husband and walking away.
“For you fellas?” He asked, looking at Finn, Jody and me.
“None for me, thanks,” Finn replies first.
“Pass.” Says Jody.
“No thank you,” I answer politely, and he seems to notice me for the first time. It could’ve been my imagination, but I thought I saw his body jolt when his eyes met mine. His smile faltered just slightly and only for a second before he pasted back on the forced one from before.
“Alright, if you need anything, just flag me down.” His cheeks and ears were pink as he walked away. It was impossible not to notice because his complexion was so milky white, he lit up like a campfire. Interesting.
“You gonna run after him or somethin’?” Jody nudged me in the ribs, making me realize I’d stared at the guy as he walked away.
“Who?” I tried to look innocent. Neither guy was buying it, but fortunately, unlike Kayson and Kingsley, they didn’t push.
“Anybody bid on anything yet?” Finn asks, just as Kayson walks back up to our circle without his husband but having Jase and Joker hot on his heels carrying familiar brown bottles. Beer, thank fuck.
“There’s a graffiti style print up towards the front that would look awesome in the basement.” Jase tells us, “I’m gonna bid pretty high on it.” He smiles over at Joker, earning an eye-roll for his trouble.
“He thinks the girl who painted it is cute.” Joker scoffs and playfully nudges Jase away.
“She’s adorable, but I’m kind of taken.” He teases, leaning up and kissing Joker on his shoulder.
“You guys are cheesy as hell.” Kayson rolls his eyes but sends Jase a wink to show his comment was made in jest. Before anyone can give Kayson shit, the low playing music that had been playing softly fades out and we all turn to see Morgan and who I assume is Cobb Ross on the small, makeshift stage with microphones. Morgan looks amazing in his well fitted black suit, and he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.
“Can I have everyone’s attention for just a moment, please?” He asks the room. We all shift into the room’s opening, so we can give him our attention. Kingsley is standing beside the stage, looking proud and I see some of the other guys littered through the opened area with a quick glance. There are a lot of people here that I don’t know yet, but I recognize some of them from town.
“Cobb and I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight, to support a cause that I personally hold dear to my heart. Ms. Jay and the kids at her home appreciate everyone’s willingness to donate, and she sends her love to each of you tonight.” He pauses while everyone claps their appreciation for Ms. Jay. “As many of you know, Ms. Jay has been a part of our community for many, many years. I don’t think anyone in here can say that they haven’t been affected in some way by her heart, or her kindness. In all of her years here in Georgia, she’s spent over half of them, helping children in need.” Morgan pauses, and Cobb begins.
“Unfortunately, the state doesn’t help her with things like making sure the kids have a decent room to study in or suitable outside play equipment. She’s not able to take in children with disabilities because her home isn’t constructed to accommodate things such as wheelchairs or chairlifts. That isn’t fair; not to the children who desperately need someone like Ms. Jay to look after them and certainly not for Ms. Jay, who would love nothing more than to do just that.” Cobb finishes, standing back yet again to let Morgan speak.
“So, tonight, with Ms. Jay and her kids in your heart, we’ll let the auctioning begin. Thank you again, and good luck!” Morgan says cheerfully and everyone claps while he and Cobb exit the stage. Kingsley is looking so proud of his man, as he slides his arm around his waist and pulls him close, whispering something in his ear, takes them through a little walkway, away from everyone. I can only imagine what they’re going to get up to. Lucky fucks.
“Guess we better go look around. I wanna make sure nobody’s outbid me on that piece I want. Jody, come see.” Jase said, walking away, hand in hand with Joker, who nodded his goodbye and followed happily.
“Guess I gotta go see what the kid wants,” Jody grumbled, as just is his way.
“Like you don’t love it.” Kayson ribs him, and Jody flips him the finger before walking away.
“Well, let’s go spend some money.” Kayson smiles, and we go.
I don’t think they’re going to announce the winner’s until later tonight, but after being here for an hour, I’m ready to get out of this buttoned up shirt. While the company is nice and I’ve met several new people from the community, it’s all just getting to be a bit overwhelming. After Kayson brought us all a beer earlier, I switched to water after the one; not only because I was driving but also because alcohol tended to make me more anxious when I was around people. I didn’t need that, or for the townspeople to see on of their Sheriff’s lose his shit.
I’d bid on three pieces. One, I knew I wouldn’t win, and I didn’t really want to, but the other two I quite liked and wouldn’t mind them in the living room or bedroom at my house. One was of an old abandoned- haunted looking if I’m honest- house in the middle of the forest. It was dark and serene, but I liked it. I’d passed by it several times, and each time, I’d bid a little higher than the last guy. Finally, in the end, I bid a lot higher, and so far, no one had topped it. The other piece was a field of red and black poppies that I felt like my cousin Shelby would like. Since she’d hooked me up with a place to stay when I’d gotten here and put up with my shit, I figured I’d get her something nice to say thank you. If I didn’t win, I’d think of something else.
Just as I’d gone by to check the abandoned house one last time, before I’d make my excuses and head out; the waiter from before, the one that I’d caught myself watching whenever I could, looked as if he’d tripped over something that I couldn’t see. He jostled his tray, spilling and breaking several flutes of champagne. Hurrying over to him, I’m surprised when someone else reached him before I could. He didn’t look friendly.
“What the fuck, Foster?” A man with a rather expensive looking suit hissed as he grabbed the cute servers elbow and guided him quickly into a small seating area where it looked mostly empty of people.
“I’m working here tonight. I didn’t know you’d be here.” The man tells the suit, who still hasn’t let go of his arm. I stay back a safe distance, but nobody is paying me any attention. I tell myself that I’ll stay here and make sure the guy is okay. “I need to clean up my mess.”
“I told you I had a thing tonight; this is the thing.” The man says, sounding accusatory. I was about to find out why.
“I thought it was a work thing.” The guy- Foster, says quietly.
“It is.” The other man says snidely.
“Honey, you back here?” A woman’s voice gives announcement just before she rounds the corner. The man drops the server’s arm like it’s on fire and steps back. “Hey, you okay? I thought you were going to take a tumble out there.” The woman asks the server sincerely as she stops next to the suit.
“I’m okay; I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t get you, did I?” The server tries to joke, but I can hear the strain in his already familiar to me, voice.
“Oh, no, dear; but I’m afraid all the glasses are broken.” She sounded genuinely sorry about that. “Were you making sure he’s okay, Jeffery?” She looks up to the man, and he nods.
“Yes, but he’s fine. We should head back out. His boss will expect him to clean up his mess, I’d imagine.” He guides her back out, while ne
ver looking back. I watch as the one left behind’s, shoulders drop in defeat, and he hangs his head. I find myself still wanting to go to him to see if he’s okay and make him that way if he’s not.
“So stupid.” He whispers, now shaking his head just slightly. Before I can move from where I’m partially hidden beside a rather gaudy looking plant, I watch the man take a deep breath, square his shoulders and lift his head, as if preparing to present himself alright. As someone who’s perfected the disguise of being normal, I recognize it for what it is, and I hate it for him. With another deep breath, he puts his empty tray under his arm and glides back into the ballroom.
I watch him for several more minutes as he squats to help another member of the wait staff, who’s cleaning up broken glass and spilled drink.
“You alright?” A nicely dressed man pulls Foster aside and asks him. He blanches but nods quickly.
“I’m so sorry; I don’t even know what I tripped over. I’ll replace the glasses.” He offers the man who just waves him off.
“It’s okay; there were only a couple.” The man, who’s probably the head caterer or his boss or something says to him. I watch him nod again. “Come on, let’s go get back to work.”
While the man who I now know is Foster goes behind the double black doors and comes right back out with another tray full of glasses, I simply observe the next few minutes as he and the suit play a game of watching each other and quickly looking away. I wonder how they know each other and what that whole scene was about.
“I’m thinking about outbidding you, just to be a dick.” Kingsley comes up behind me and has me nearly jumping out of my fucking skin. Luckily, I’m decent at hiding it, so by the time I turn around, the extreme panic that I’m positive splayed across my face is already gone.
“That would be a dick move; I really want that picture,” I tell him honestly.
“What are you doing over here? You had your cop face on, there trouble?” Kingsley asks, changing the subject, more serious than I’d heard him before. I didn’t think anyone was paying attention to me, but I’m glad they think it’s a “cop face” instead of the blatant eavesdropping and stalking I was clearly just doing.
“Nah, someone just tripped and spilled a couple of drinks. I was making sure they were okay.” I tell him the truth, though I didn’t tell him it happens to be the guy I’d been watching half the night.
“The guy you been watching all night?” He asks knowingly, and my neck isn’t prepared for the quick jerk of my head.
“What?” I ask, like an idiot.
“Oh, come on… We’ve started a pool. Gonna see how long it takes you to talk to him. Which, I said around seven-thirty, so could you do me a solid and make that happen?” He whispers though I spotted a couple of the crew across the room, pretending not to be watching our interaction.
“I’m gonna go tell them you just ratted them out.” I taunt Kingsley as I start to walk away. He moves faster than any big man I’ve ever seen,
“Now, hang on a second. Let’s just all calm down a minute.” He doesn’t look so smug now. “I was kidding.”
“You were not.” I scoff, rolling my eyes at their immature behavior. Kingsley was the worst. Most of the time, it was hilarious; that is until you were on the receiving end of his bullshit like I was now. I wasn’t really mad about it, but if I could use this to my advantage to make him forget about my leering at members of the wait staff, then so be it.
“Okay, I wasn’t, but still…you should talk to him. He’s cute.” He commented, earning a well-deserved glare from me.
“I wasn’t watching him like that, knock it off,” I answer.
“Anyone interested in a drink?” Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
“You know what, I do believe I’ll have some, thank you so much,” Kingsley says, with his butter-would-melt-in-his-stupid-mouth, way.
“I’m okay, thank you,” I say politely, not looking at the man this time.
“I’m Kingsley.” Kingsley introduces himself before the man can walk away. “This here is Sherriff Wade, but you can call him Raylan.”
“It’s nice to meet you guys, are you enjoying your evening?” The man- Foster- asks, sounding formal and professional. I let myself look at him then, wondering if he’s as okay as he sounds after that scene earlier. Surprisingly, he seems to be. He ducks his head under my sudden attention, and I can see the pink tinge on his neck and cheeks before he looks back to Kingsley as he answers.
“We are, everyone is doing a great job tonight.”
“They really are;” The server pauses and takes a look around, his face changes into a look of sincerity, “this is a great thing everyone’s doing, you should all be very proud.” I watch him take in a deep breath and take in the twinkling lights overhead as if it’s the first time he’s actually stopped to look at everything.
“Well, you gentleman enjoy the rest of your evening and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to flag me down.” He says after a minute and then walks away. Just like last time, I watch him. Unlike last time, I notice him turn back my way twice and look back at me too.
“Thirteen more minutes, would ya? Only thirteen.” Kingsley teased. Maybe I could stay another few minutes; it couldn’t hurt.
Foster
My feet are killing me, and I’m dreading the walk back home tonight. Normally I’d enjoy the quiet time alone to get my head together after the crap-tastic night I just had, but all I want to do right now is close out the night and climb into bed. I wanted to forget everything that happened tonight and worry about it another day. Especially the part where my boyfriend stood arm-in-arm with a woman I’d saw him kiss several times and the way he acted as if he didn’t know me.
Everyone was mostly gone; the winners were already declared and the successful night was ended with a video montage of the kids at the group home thanking everyone for helping them. It was touching, and I was glad to see the community taking part in the well-being of its children. I walked around the almost empty hall looking for stray glasses and discarded napkins while enjoying each piece of artwork that I didn’t get to admire before. For art students, these pieces were amazing. Some better than others, but each portrait and painting was no less than spectacular. I especially liked the field of red and black poppies. The whole picture was black and white, except for the rows and rows of red and black poppies that seemed to jump out of the picture and suck you in.
My mom’s name was Poppy. There was no other correlation between her name and the flower. I didn’t have any memories of ever picking her a flower and making her smile, or anyone else giving her any and making her happy either. The colors didn’t remind me of anything special; not a dress she liked to wear or her favorite pair of heels. But for some reason, this painting of red and black poppies reminded me of her. It didn’t have any other significance to me other than the name. Poppy. My mother, who I hadn’t seen in more years than I cared to remember; her name was named Poppy.
“Beautiful piece, eh?” I jumped at the voice beside me. It was one of the hosts of the night. Morgan, I believe.
“It is.” I didn’t recognize my voice; it came out in a strained whisper. I wondered why?
“Thank you; it’s mine.” He smiled politely. Fuck. Did he think I was going to take it or something?
“Oh, sorry. I was just admiring it. It’s beautiful.” I stepped back, trying to show him that he wasn’t in danger of losing it. I was honestly just looking at it.
“No, I mean, it’s mine. I painted it.” He clarified, not losing the friendly smile. “It brings out a strong emotion in you; in your eyes.” He’s studying me, and for some reason, it unnerves me a little.
“It’s pretty,” I tell him honestly, though I know that he knows it’s more than that.
“Did you bid on this?” He asks, looking back at the painting and then back at me.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. I only worked here tonight; I wasn’t a part of this…whole thing.” I tell him. Even if I wer
e, I wouldn’t have had the funds to even have a chance at something like this.
“Well, that sucks. I’m Morgan, by the way. Morgan Kennedy.” His hand juts out, and I shake it politely.
“Foster Wells.”
“Great to meet you,” Morgan says. “I’ve got to tell you, as an artist, your reaction to this piece is why we do it. When you find someone who feels the emotion of each piece, or when it manifests into a different emotion for the person feeling it; it feels amazing.”
“It’s probably silly,” I tell him, looking back at the painting and wondering why it’s making me sad to know that I have to leave it here. “My mom’s name was Poppy.” That’s the only way to explain. I’m not going to tell him that she left me one day and never came back because drugs oftentimes took her away from me for days on end, and in the end, took her forever. I couldn’t tell him that I was an orphaned kid who turned into an orphaned adult and that up until seeing this picture, I’d not had a positive thought in days.
“Well, since this one is already auctioned off, why don’t you come by my studio sometime and I could-“
“Foster! Come on man; I want to get out of here!” Niall yelled from the kitchen. He was our dishwasher, no doubt needing my glasses so we could all go home. It was late, and most of us had been here all day, setting up and preparing for tonight.
“I’m so sorry, that was rude. I do need to get these back there, but it was so nice to meet you, and I love your work, it’s beautiful. It was great meeting you, really.” I told him honestly, grabbing the last two glasses that I could see on my way back to the kitchen. I chanced one more glance at the painting before disappearing into the kitchen and forgetting all about poppies and my mother.
