“I had no idea,” Jennifer said. She leaned forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Cutter.”
“I appreciate that, Jennifer. But it’s fine. The good news is that we’d only been seeing each other for six weeks or so, so going our separate ways made it easier than it might have been otherwise.”
“You’ll find someone else, Cutter,” Jennifer said. “Even if I have to meddle.”
When she said that, I saw him glance up at the rearview mirror and smile at her. My the clear takeaway from that exchange is that if you were part of the Wenn family, Jennifer and Alex treated you as such.
And now, I had to wonder. Could it be that I’d finally found my place in New York? After the day I’d been treated to—let alone the night that was ahead of me—I had to believe that I had, and I was beyond grateful for it. I thought of Rhoda at that moment, and wondered just how much of this she’d already seen. Given how we’d left things when I saw her last, I had a feeling that she knew plenty. But all of it? Doubtful. But I’d fill her in on everything when I saw her.
“We’re here,” Cutter said to us. “And as Jennifer and Madison already pointed out, so are the paparazzi. How would you like me to handle this? I can usher all of you straight inside, or you can have your photographs taken, and then I can take you inside. Whichever you wish.”
“They’ll be angry if we don’t stop for a moment,” Jennifer said.
“I agree,” Alex said. “We can’t ignore them. It’s suicide if we ignore them.”
“So let’s just go through with it,” Jennifer said to Cutter. “Three minutes. Then the party.”
* * *
After an onslaught of photographs—the lot of which went to Jennifer and Alex, who knew exactly how to address the photographers and pose for them as their names were called out—Brock and I also were asked to turn to the cameras before Cutter intervened and maneuvered all of us inside Peachy’s mansion.
He turned to Alex. “Call me ten minutes before you’re ready to leave?” he asked.
“You’ve got it,” Alex said.
And with that, Cutter was gone. And the moment he was gone, Brock’s hand reached out to take mine.
“Kind of crazy, huh?” he said.
“To say the least. I understand why you were photographed. You’re not only a Wenn, but you also should be on a billboard for Calvin Klein underwear in Times Square. But I’m a nobody. What happened back there made zero sense to me.”
“You really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”
Since my body always betrayed me at moments such as this, I naturally blushed when he said that, because not only was it a compliment from a man I was in love with, but because tonight I really did feel beautiful. And why shouldn’t I? I’d been gifted with an outrageously expensive gown, I’d been treated to Bernie’s magic, and I was wearing Jennifer’s jewels, which were so stunning, they were beyond compare. Tonight, I felt like I was the luckiest girl in the world, and to hear Brock compliment me again made my heart swell with affection.
When we moved deeper into Peachy’s mansion, the energy was electric. I looked ahead through the crowds of people and saw that they were moving toward the grand mahogany staircase that was at the opposite end of the room. Some were already climbing it. Despite the din, I could hear faint sounds of an orchestra coming from the second floor.
In no time, I was beyond Robert, a tall, gray-haired man who was just as cordial and dull as Jennifer had promised him to be, and then I met Peachy, a tall, thin blonde who was likely pushing seventy, but whose plastic surgeon had skillfully lifted her face back to fifty. She was wearing a sequined champagne-colored evening gown that fell to the floor and glistened in the light.
I thought that she was beautiful.
“Hello,” I said as I approached her with an extended hand. “I’m Madison Wells. I work for Wenn Enterprises. Alex and Jennifer invited me as their guest tonight.”
“Of course,” she said as she took my hand in her own. “They called me earlier about adding a plus two, and I couldn’t be happier to have you here tonight, Madison. It’s a pleasure. I’m Peachy—literally and figuratively. You’ll come to find that out soon enough. And I have to say, my dear, that you are a knockout. That dress of yours alone is out of this world, not to mention your jewels.”
“The dress is a gift from Alex and Jennifer,” I said. “And the jewels are Jennifer’s, not mine. She was kind enough to lend them to me.”
“Whatever the case, you still look smashing. So far, you and Jennifer are the best-dressed women I’ve seen here tonight—and I mean that. You’re lovely, Madison.”
“Isn’t she?” Brock said.
When he said that, she looked over at Brock, who had his hand pressed against the small of my back, and then her face lit up in recognition.
“Look at you,” she said. “Is this really the boy I remember from so long ago? You’re as handsome as your cousin, Brock. Now give us a kiss. That’s right. Each cheek. How I love the beard! And now Peachy needs to know—how long have you two been a couple, because I have to tell you that you look perfect together.”
“Well,” I said. “We haven’t—”
“This week,” Brock said firmly. “Madison and I became a couple just this past weekend.”
And now I really am going to faint. A couple? When had we discussed this?
Not that I minded. Given that the way he’d said it was so direct, I found it kind of thrilling.
“So this relationship is new,” Peachy said. “Well, congratulations, my darlings. And may it be long-lived!”
“It will be,” Brock said.
When he said that, he said it so definitively that Peachy tilted her head to the side and studied us for a moment before she lowered her voice and motioned for us to come closer to her. “You know, I do believe it,” she said discreetly. “The energy coming off you two is as palpable as it is refreshing. I’m also old enough to know that it’s rare when such a thing happens. So enjoy the run, my loves—and may you turn that run into a marathon.”
She straightened. “Enjoy tonight. I’ll catch up with you later. Cocktails are on the second floor. And given the looks on your faces, I’d say that you each need one right now.” She winked at us. “N’est-ce pas?”
* * *
When we left Peachy, Brock reached for my hand again as we joined Alex and Jennifer, who were waiting for us at the end of the receiving line.
“Second floor,” Jennifer said. “That’s where the ballroom is. You can probably hear the orchestra now.”
“It sounds lovely,” I said.
“So let’s go. Alex and I need a martini. You two can have whatever you’d like.”
With Brock at my side, I raised the front of my gown as we climbed the ornate staircase to the second floor, which was so massive, it stretched out in front of us in such a way that I couldn’t see the end of it—the room was that large.
Paneled in dark wood and warmly lit in a way that would flatter a corpse, it was packed with people. I leaned toward Brock. “Look at this space,” I said to him. “Who lives like this?”
“Peachy Van Prout does,” he said. “As did her parents and her grandparents before her. She inherited this mansion from them. Her family made their wealth through sugar. And they still do. The Van Prouts have been in the book since the book was first created.”
“The book?” I said.
“The Social Register.”
“Oh,” I said. And then I looked questioningly at him. “Are you in it?”
“No,” he said. “They reserve that for old money.”
With his hand in mine, I saw men and women first look at Jennifer and Alex as we cut through the space, I heard people call out their names, and because it was clear that we were with them, those same faces looked with interest at Brock and me. Did Brock know anyone here? I thought that he must know some of them. But since he was older now and sporting a beard, I wondered if anyone recognized him. Those two
elements alone could throw people off.
As we moved toward the bar, which was to our left, the space was so tight with people that elbows nudged elbows as people offered murmered apologies.
“What would you two like?” Alex said when we reached the bar. It was three-deep in people. We’d never get a drink.
“Champagne for me,” I said.
“Brock?”
“Bourbon—neat.”
“Give me a moment.”
Despite the crowd, it really did take only a moment. A bartender caught Alex’s eye, I heard him say hello to Alex as if they knew each other, and soon, Jennifer and Alex had their martinis, I had my champagne, and Brock had his bourbon.
“Here’s to!” Jennifer said when the four of us were together again. “To an epic, memorable evening.”
At that, we all touched glasses.
“Or maybe I just spoke too soon,” she said as she sipped her drink. “Because here comes Piggy Swarmsworthy.”
“Piggy what?” I said.
“Swarmsworthy.”
“I don’t mean to sound crass, but what kind of a name is that?”
When I said that, Jennifer placed her hand on my arm. “Let’s just call this the beginning for you, Madison,” she said. “When I first started to come to these parties with Alex, I felt just as you do now. The names of these people sounded ridiculous to me. Tootie. Bebe. Blitzy. And hell, even Peachy, though at least I came to adore her. But here comes Piggy now. I only met her last week at a charitable event for cancer research that Wenn supports, and she wouldn’t let go of me. That woman is a talker. So why don’t you two scoot now and enjoy yourselves? Because believe me, you don’t need Piggy Swarmsworthy suffocating you with questions, which she will. Alex and I will deal with her.”
“Jennifer!” I heard the woman’s voice call out. “You’re here! And you didn’t even call to tell me that you were coming! How can that be? I thought that we had a connection!”
“Leave,” Jennifer hushed at us. “I’m telling you—I’m doing you a favor here. We’ll catch up later. Go and dance or something.”
As we started to leave, Piggy Swarmsworthy brushed past us in a glimmering, beaded veil of black silk. True to her name, she was a large woman in every sense of the word. Her voice boomed. Her hips swung. Her blonde hair had been teased to the point that it seemed preternaturally enormous. And then there was the river of perfume she left in her wake, which was so over the top, it was probably making another hole in the ozone.
“And there goes Piggy,” Brock said.
“Not exactly the runt of the litter, that one.”
He look at me with surprise when I said that, and then he laughed.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was terrible of me.”
“I thought it was funny—and it’s true. I also think that Jennifer really did do us a favor. Care to just walk around?”
“I’d love to see the place,” I said. “And have a look at the orchestra. Do you dance?”
“I do. Part of my upbringing. My mother thought it was important that all of her sons learn to waltz properly so that when they got married, they wouldn’t make asses of themselves on the dance floor.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Two. David is the oldest, Austin is in the middle, and I’m the baby.”
“What do they do for a living?”
“They work for my father, though I’m thinking that Austin is about to come over to Wenn, if Alex will have him, which I think he will, if only because Austin is smart as hell—at least when it comes to business. Not so much when it comes to my father. It took him longer to become fed up with my father’s demands than I did, but from what I hear, my father is just getting worse in his old age. Austin is loyal to Dad, but there comes a point in all of our lives when loyalty is stretched to a point where it just snaps. I think Austin is there now.”
He look a long sip of his bourbon. “Anyway, let’s not talk about them, because talking about them just means talking about my father, which will bring down the evening. That’s the last thing I want to do. Tonight is special. Tonight is about us, Madison.”
When he said that, he leaned down and kissed me on the lips. Given this crowd, I sensed that any sort of public display of affection was pushing it, but I nevertheless warmed up to him.
“Let’s go over there,” he said, gesturing to an alcove that was off to our right. “There’s nobody there. Everyone’s mixing in the middle—and I’ve been wanting to be alone with you all day.”
“I’m game.”
When we entered the alcove, Brock’s expression turned serious. He looked almost troubled to me. Distracted. I wondered why.
“Are you upset that I told Peachy that we were a couple?” he asked.
“No, but it did take me by surprise. I wasn’t sure how to react, so I said nothing.”
“Do you feel nothing?”
When he asked me that, I felt at once exposed and vulnerable. If he was going to open this particular conversation, I felt that it was only fair that he go first.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re feeling, Brock?”
“I can’t get you out of my head,” he said. “Somehow, after we parted on Sunday morning, I was able to go home and pull off that report for Alex, which he accepted after giving me hell about the first draft. But focusing on it after making love to you on Friday and Saturday was almost impossible. I don’t want to frighten you away, but you need to know that I’m consumed by you, Madison. I can’t stop thinking about you. I probably overspoke when I said that we were a couple—and I apologize for that—but when Peachy asked about us, what came out of my mouth was nevertheless how I feel. I know it’s only been a week, but for some reason that I can’t sort out, I do see us as a couple. But maybe that’s because that’s what I want.”
“Brock,” I said.
“Let me finish.”
Before he could, he was interrupted by an announcement from the orchestra’s conductor, an older man who looked to be somewhere in his seventies. He came to the front of the stage, picked up a microphone, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I know that many of you have already seen and heard her at her sold-out shows at the Carlyle, but if you haven’t, then Peachy and Robert have a real treat in store for you. Tonight, Glo Glowing is here to sing for us, and she’s going to begin with the Etta James classic ‘At Last.’”
As the crowd erupted into what sounded like startled applause, I watched a gorgeous African-American woman ascend the stage with the sort of poise and polish that had to be God-given.
She was not only chic and radiant, but she commanded the stage with an assured, calming presence that claimed the space as her own. As the applause rose up before her, she stood before the crowd for several moments before I said to Brock, “What kind of a name is ‘Glo Glowing’?”
“If she’s working at the Carlyle, let’s just say that it’s the perfect stage name for that crowd. What song did he say that she was going to sing?”
“‘At Last.’”
And when I said that, Brock took me by the arm.
“Dance with me,” he said with a sense of urgency.
“Dance?”
“Give me your champagne. This isn’t by accident. Now I know for sure that it was meant to be.”
“That what was meant to be?”
“We need to be on that floor now, Madison.”
He was in such a state, I just gave my glass to him, but since the alcove didn’t contain a table, he had to put our glasses on the floor against the wall before he led me onto the dance floor, which was filling at a rapid pace.
I’d never heard of Glo Glowing before, but it was clear by the delight I saw in people’s eyes that they not only knew her, but also adored her.
As the spotlights went up, Glo’s spirit also seemed to rise. She was wearing an elegant lavender evening gown with diamonds on her ears and wrists. After she bowed her head in acknowledgment of the warm reception, she approached the
mike at the center of the stage, and then a familiar song from my youth began.
From the first chords alone, I knew this song intimately. My grandmother was a longtime Etta James fan, and she used to play her songs for me whenever I went to her house for baking lessons, one of my favorite memories of her. She especially loved this song, because she considered it her and my grandfather’s song. I remembered her telling me that it reminded her of the moment when she fell in love with my grandfather.
“Listen to the lyrics,” she once said to me when she was showing me how to make pie dough as the song came on the CD player.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because they’re important to me. Your grandfather and I had been dating for a few months when he asked me to dance to this song. And when we did, everything fell into place for us. When Etta sang and Roy held me close to him on that dance floor, I knew that my lonely days were over—as corny as that probably sounds to you, young lady. But not to me. I’d found my dream, and even though your grandfather is no longer with us, he still remains a dream that I speak to.”
When Glo started to sing the lyrics, Brock took me in his arms at the very moment when I was recalling the lyrics to the song—and their significance to my grandmother’s life and perhaps even to my own. He had hustled us out here for a reason to share this dance, and now I knew why. As Glo launched into the song with a strong, pure voice that was as soulful as it was divine, I just looked up at Brock.
“Listen to every word she sings,” he said to me. “Because that’s exactly how I feel about you, Madison. At last. Finally. At last, with you, my dreams have come true.”
When he said that, I could only press my cheek against his chest and shut my eyes because I knew that my grandmother was here with me now, watching over me and happy for me. I felt Brock run his hand down the length of my hair, and then he unexpectedly twirled me around once before he drew me back into his arms as Glo Glowing continued to sing.
Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) Page 23
