Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Monty sat in his living room, sipping his cognac as he watched Benson pace. “Would you sit?”
“I’m going to meet him, and he’ll hate me the moment he finds out all of this was for that very reason.”
“No, it’s not. I loved this play, and I wanted to get it on the stage for a while now, and you having a crush is a very small part of it.
Luka is going to play this part so well, he’ll become a rising star, and you…
well, you might have a famous boyfriend, or he’ll dump you for a younger, much more handsome man. Stars do that.”
He stopped and watched his friend’s lips twitching as he tried to keep from smiling. “You’re a terrible human being.”
“I know, but I’m married. I don’t have to be nice anymore.”
“I really hate you,” he said as he sat by Monty and took his glass, swigging the rest of the expensive cognac. “He’s not been off my mind since the play. I have no idea what I’ll even say to him.”
“Say hello. Say yes, you can thank me for producing this play by getting naked.”
“Monty! I’m not like that, and you better not be.”
“I’m not. And you’re definitely not. Just…be yourself. Maybe some of your upbeat enthusiasm for life will rub off on him. I thought I’d see a smile from him, getting his dream part, but I think his brow just furrowed deeper. I wouldn’t know how to react if I saw him genuinely smile.”
“Why…the soberness?”
Monty told him a brief history, all he knew.
“He was a poor kid. When he first came, he was wearing clothes that were decades out of style, holey shoes, his hair was cut either by some cheap place in a discount store or by himself. I think, like you, he’s just crawling out of poverty, but he’s taken a different route.
While you made friends and saw every day as sunshine, he saw the clouds. He’s ready to fight for his shot.”
“Admirable,” he said, remembering how difficult it was to pull himself out of that old neighborhood and that cheap apartment. “I’d have fought too. I’ve done it, but…”
“You have teamed up with others to fight. He thinks he has to fight on his own. This gig will help, I hope, but who knows?”
“I’d love to be the one to make him smile. I wouldn’t know where to begin, though.”
“Rain money down on him. Give him the life he can have once more parts start falling at his feet. He’s young, good looking, talented. He’ll make it, but yeah, he needs to see that fame comes with fortune too, and that might be the thing that finally lets him let his guard down a little.”
Frowning, Benson didn’t think that would work at all. “How about just being good to him? Showing him that there is life outside of perfecting his craft?”
“Boring. Could work, but much more boring that buying him a yacht.”
“A yacht?”
Monty laughed and suggested, “A Jag? A home in the Caribbean? A private plane?”
“I think you’re cheating by looking at your own list of goodies you want someday.”
“Why not? I’m deserving.”
“If this all goes off well, my friend, you can count on a very lovely Christmas.”
Monty kissed his cheek and whispered, “You are a sexy Santa.”
“Thanks!”
The party had to be perfect. He hired a party planner that he’d used on many occasions, and the man was so good, it was hard for even Benson to get a booking so soon.
It was a good thing that Jarvach Ridge remembered Benson had helped him succeed. He’d been practically nobody in the party planning world until Benson found him and loved his ideas. Benson spread the word, letting the reporters on all the society rags in on his secret planner.
Jarvach came in like a whirlwind, as usual, his bigger-than-life personality there a good three minutes before his body even walked through the door. “Benson Carter, my greatest achievement!”
“Hello, I thought you were mine,” Benson said, laughing, as Jarvach kissed his cheek.
The man could dress. He was in a suit that to the untrained eye looked navy, but on closer examination, would see a subtle layer of the finest red fiber laid over a beautiful dark charcoal.
His tie was crimson, and his shirt was charcoal, possibly to hint to the less fortunate what they should be seeing.
“What are we doing this time? Wooing prospective investors?”
“Nothing so grand, Jarvach. I’m producing a play, and I’d like a…well, a get-to-know-each-other party.”
“A play? Dabbling in the fine arts, Benson? I have rubbed off on you,” he said while running fingers through his salt and pepper, perfectly soft and trimmed beard. Benson could smell the product on it as he did that, and he knew it cost a small fortune to keep that beautiful beard so…beautiful.
“You have, dear Jarvach. It will be added to wardrobe fittings, discussions on props and stage decoration, and mostly for the cast and crew to get to know one another outside of the theater.”
“I see, yes, perfect,” he said as he paced around Benson’s living room. “It’ll have to be casual, something to keep them comfy and at ease. Tension of any kind can produce tension between the cast members, which inevitably shows in their performances.
Benson sat on the sofa, knowing this would go on for a while. Jarvach was the type to think aloud, and mostly because he loved the praise he got when he came to his ultimate decisions.
“Candlelight won’t do. We need the wardrobe fittings well lit, but harsh lights cause tension. Soft lamplight, yes, possibly small lamps with lanterns, tall ones with three-foot-tall pillars. Yes, that would be nice. And white. The white will allow the light to glow nicely.”
“Where should we have it?” Benson asked.
“How big is this cast and crew? I’m assuming at the most fifty people.”
“Monty said forty on the nose.”
“Oh! An intimate party. I love it. How about at the Waldorf? I know, it seems so cliché, but this is a cast party, and what is more cliché than that?”
“I think the Waldorf would be lovely.”
“Cliché but cliché for a reason. Some things just…fit. I’ll call Anton and reserve a nice suite, one that will fit the guests well, not too small, not too big, and then I’ll get my caterer. I think…Greek?”
“Greek?”
Jarvach tittered a laugh. “If we’re going with cliché, why not go all the way? The Greeks were the first to do great theater, so why wouldn’t we invite them along?”
“Next you’ll suggest a toga party.”
“Gauche. No kibitzing. If you were good at this, you wouldn’t need me.”
Knowing Jarvach for years, Benson knew he could ask anything. Jarvach saw him struggling, and sat next to him, taking his hand. “What is bothering you?”
“Nothing is…exactly bothering me. There’s a man…”
“Of course there is. There’s always a man accompanying that look. So, who is he to catch the eye of a wonderful guy like you? And dare I say, it’s about time.”
Benson laughed a little at that. “I’ve been busy.”
“I’m not judging. So?”
Benson gave him a fast rundown of the situation, and Jarvach sighed heavily. “I see. How…Flash Dance of you.”
“I knew it.”
“No, it’s romantic, but the other party rarely sees it that way, at least at first. I’d say not to tell him, but you’re terribly honest. In fact, I often wonder how the hell you’ve gotten so rich being honest, but…the exceptions prove the rule and all that.”
“He’s beautiful, and in his eyes, you can see it, Jarvach. You see his pain, his determination, all the things he feels. And, well, having once been in his shoes, I relate to him.”
“Oh, darling, you do. Well, I guess this party comes off perfectly, so you can show him that you are a perfectionist too. The first thing you have in common.”
“I’m not, though.”
“You are, which is why you hire me for these affairs, sorry for the pun.”
“Jarvach…”
“Romantic, Greek, casual, so to put all possible fears at ease. Hmm, this will be a challenge.”
“And you love a challenge.”
“Yes, I do,” he said with a wink. “I’ll have a mood board for you this afternoon, and I’ll send my people over to give the suite a good cleaning before the event. I’ll have to rent the suite for at least a day before and after as well as the night of the party, but you can afford it.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you soon,” he said, getting up and heading for the door. It was fast, it was productive and, for some reason, that storm in Prada loafers always put him at ease.
That afternoon, he was looking at mood boards and a computer-generated hotel room with his jaw on the floor, as always. Jarvach had a way of shocking him with his insight and flair, but the party for the cast and crew was above anything he’d done for Benson thus far.
Using simple textures of linens and wood and stone, he’d transformed the suite into a luxury space that was indeed as serene as well as functional.
He’d used the blue of the Greek flag and mixed it with the colors of sand and stone for the rugs, throw pillows and fabrics on the sofas, chairs and tables.
The tall lanterns held white candles, and the hanging lanterns held sandy-colored candles.
The food was placed on a long table, not in plates or bowls, but on slates of marble and thick pieces of wood.
On the walls, the artwork was replaced with Greek scenes of theater and the coliseums they performed in front of large audiences, as well as the most beautiful seascapes.
“This is beautiful, Jarvach.”
“You act surprised.”
Throwing an arm around the man’s shoulders, he said, “You never stop surprising me. I feel…better just looking at this. It’s perfect.”
“I know. It is one of my best. Notice the way the bedroom door is slightly open?”
“Not until you pointed it out, but yes, now I do.”
Jarvach took the top picture down and leaned it on the side of the sofa to reveal the picture under it.
The bed in the center was canopied with wistful white fabric, the same fabric that was on the windows.
The same Grecian blue that was barely visible on the pillows that were strategically placed to lean on the headboard and filed down to the center of the bed only broke the white of the curtains.
The entire room was lit with only candles and the romance just screamed off the board.
“I never said you had to do the bedroom.”
“Oh, I know. I think of everything. If this cute boy likes you, and you two wanted to get away from the other guests…well…”
“You’re terrible.”
“At least sleep there yourself.”
“I will definitely do that. Thank you, Jar. Now the invitations?”
“Already planned. And the wine was ordered, as well as other spirits, but nothing too heavy.”
“A bit of Dionisis to meld with Thespis?”
“Of course. I must get all the Greeks in there I can! Why be cliché at all unless you go all the way?”