Chapter 21 #3
Mischa is nowhere. Not at the pizzeria on Tuesday, so I pass by Wednesday and Thursday, and every other day of the week.
The freezer gets full with pepperoni. I ask Billy if he’s been training with him on Friday, and he says he hasn’t heard from him yet.
That night I play a gig in Springfield and he doesn’t show.
Saturday I hit every spot in town and come up empty.
Sunday is cold. The girls are staying with us but they’re off on their own a lot.
I have to stop trying to find him. I dread bumping into him by accident, so why am I seeking him out?
I don’t know why I’m doing this. I don’t know why he’s hiding.
Both things are pissing me off. I take it out on my drums for hours at a time, until I’m a sweaty mess.
I have to replace my sticks, a cymbal and two drum skins this week.
Perhaps I was just flattered to have someone’s attention, and losing it makes me feel invisible again. I need to get the fuck over that. This is what I wanted. Obviously he wanted it too.
I need to get over it. The next Monday is just as grey as the last. I need to get my affairs in order. I need to donate my stuff to goodwill. I need to get on with things.
???
“Baby, why are you not ready?” William asks on Saturday afternoon.
He’s standing in the kitchen, in a tuxedo. Isobelle and Sabrina are behind him in ballgowns looking stunning. I’m in my pajamas, and have been for two days.
“Oh God,” I groan. “Where are we supposed to be going?”
“The fundraiser,” Brina says. “In New York.”
I have no idea what she is talking about.
“Can I skip?” I ask.
“Granddad is coming,” Billy says. “He wants to see you, and he spent fifty grand on our tickets so get fucking dressed.”
“Oh jeez...”
“What’s wrong with you?” he scowls. “Shower, dress, and we’ll go in thirty.”
“Bee...” I start whinging.
“NOW!” Isobelle bellows, and we both jump.
I scamper upstairs, wash and put on a suit. I am obviously coming down with a cold, because it is painful to do all three. At least we’re flying there. Moments before we arrive at the country club I remember why we are there.
“Jesus,” I say. “A charity auction?”
“What did you think it was?” Sabrina asks.
“I thought it was a bad fucking dream.”
Billy sighs. “The bad dream started years ago.”
“Easy for you, Bee. Let’s go to the Hamptons and hide out,” I suggest.
“Can’t go around it,” Isobelle says.
Billy pats me. “We gotta pay the soul tax.”
Inside the club it’s festive and beautiful. One of the organizers grabs me and William and bustles us between other important guests. Billy turns on the charm and is warm and attentive.
Grandpa cuts a lonely figure as his limo door opens.
He’s taller than most people, and has retained his thick head of hair, now white with age.
Everyone turns around and watches him. They all speak quietly amongst themselves as we both fly to his side like we are still small children.
He lifts his cane so as to block our affection.
“I see you boys managed to pull yourselves together tonight,” he says coldly, stepping between us to meet Isobelle and Sabrina. “My beautiful girls, it has been too long.”
They both greet him, and catch up like he’s their grandfather. There’s nothing we can do. Grandpa has to keep up the appearance of frostiness. We can hear the faint whispers from the other attendees of “Disowned... Delinquent... Bratty... Estranged... Bullies... Violent...”
As he walks away I flush a dark shade of beetroot. Billy watches the old man ignoring us and tries to stifle a chuckle. He doesn’t care about all the hearsay. I want the Earth to swallow me. William makes his way over to the waiter carrying the drinks and takes one.
A middle-aged woman with a bright floral dress comes over to save me from my humiliation. She says her name is Nancy.
“Why don’t we meet some of the other boys on the chopping block tonight?” Nancy says.
She grabs my hand and pulls me to the corner of the room.
“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling uneasy. “Chopping block?”
“The other men we’re auctioning.”
“Auctioning guys?”
“This is the Date Night auction, you know, a bachelor auction? You’ll be our first victim.”
“Oh God.”
Isobelle finds her way over to me and gestures across the hall with her head.
“Well,” she grins, “look who it is.”
On the other side of the room, I see Mischa, and my heart goes crazy.
I wonder if I’m seeing things. He’s standing in the corner with a beautiful young woman on his arm with the same black curly hair like his.
I imagine her to be his sister. He looks sharp in a suit, with Sabrina’s cashmere scarf draped over his shoulders.
He looks a little thinner. His cheekbones are really popping.
I think of everything that happened between us and my body gets wobbly.
It feels like some invisible force is trying to lift me off my feet and pull me towards him.
I’m fighting it, because I don’t want the other guests to see me floating through the air.
He’s talking to a very attractive guy. Light hair, athletic, chiseled, gorgeous.
Gravity centers back in the pit of my stomach and falls to the floor.
I want to kill him just for standing next to Mischa.
Things between them look... close... personal.
.. intimate. That is his real date, no doubt.
I shouldn’t be surprised he moved on so fast, but a little part of me is.
I want to run to him. I want to knock everyone over as I do, but I move casually, nonchalant. Calm. Indifferent. I grab a drink and weave through hundreds of glittering people like a sunflower field.
“Oh shit,” Mischa says, when he sees me.
He looks surprised. Horrified, in fact. His jaw drops as I approach, and he just stares.
“You look good in a suit,” I say.
He’s a little lost for words. “Thanks....” he looks at my tie. “So do you.”
The beautiful girl looks at me and back at Mischa.
“This is Sofie,” he says. “My heart, this is Austen.”
“Austen?” she looks back at Mischa. “You spent Christmas Eve together?”
“Yes,” he nods, a little sheepish.
She is delighted, and embraces me. “Mischa’s told me so much about you!”
I’m charmed. It feels like we’re already good friends.
“I have heard all about you too.”
“Thank you for the car, it’s wonderful.”
I feel my cheeks flush. “Not me,” I tell her. “No matter what he has said.”
She looks quizzically at Mischa. “He thinks he can lie to us?”
Mischa lowers his gaze to his glass and swirls it. “Don’t lie to my sister, Austen.”
I shift uncomfortably.
“I’m sure you deserve it,” I whisper.
Mischa spits out the sip he’s just taken, and laughs at me, loud and brash. I’m sure I’m turning purple.
“I don’t deserve it,” Sofie says, “but I will take good care of it.”
“I would love to spend some more time with you... and um, and Mischa...”
“You would?” Mischa asks.
“Maybe I could take you both to dinner?”
The attractive man steps forward, expecting an introduction. Confirmation perhaps, that he means something to Mischa, and Mischa means something to him.
“And this is Sebastian,” Mischa says. “He’s from Paris. This is William and Austen. They’re the brothers I visited Fiordland with.”
The beautiful man shakes my hand. “Enchanté.”
I look behind me and my brother is indeed shadowing me.
“Hey Sugarplum,” he says to Mischa, and hugs him.
“Will, so good to see you,” Mischa says, and pats him on the back. “This is Sofie. Our other sister Natasha is here too, and she keeps saying she wants to meet you, but um... please don’t hit on her. Please. She’s fucking crazy and you’ll regret it.”
Sofie nods in agreement.
Billy splutters with laughter. “Okay. I promise. It’s only fair that I stay away from your siblings too, I guess. Are you getting auctioned?”
“Unfortunately we are,” Mischa says.
“Bugger.” Billy grabs another glass of champagne from a waiter and knocks it back. “We can do introductions later. I’m going to need a few more drinks before the shit-show. Excuse me.”
“Please don’t get drunk,” I say.
He follows the waiter out into the middle of the hall to Sabrina, who is also trying to get a few drinks in, and I’m alone with Mischa and Sebastian.
“You study?” Sebastian asks.
“I do,” I say. “Law. And you?”
“I am étoile with the ballet. I’m hoping Mischa and Sofie will dance with me soon.” He turns to Mischa. “Is it not, mon grand?”
Mon grand. My big boy. Something a hundred-year-old Frenchman might call his son, or a young Parisian might call his lover. Mischa is flushing bright red. It turns me to stone in an instant.
“That sounds wonderful,” I tell Sebastian.
I excuse myself from the group, and try to find my brother. I stop at the first tray of drinks and chug as much as I can before the auction starts. Mischa approaches and we are face to face again.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Mischa says. “They’re raising money for the ballet, and I don’t understand why they requested me personally, I’m not even a professional yet, they just said some patron wanted me to come and...”
I cut him off. “You have as much a right to be here as anyone. Sebastian is a dreamboat, by the way. I get why you’re avoiding me now. I’m glad you’re over it.”
“I’m not, Austen; it’s torture.” He looks at me with those smoky eyes, and shows me his shaky hands.
“My palms are sweating, my heart’s racing just seeing you.
I can’t stop looking at your photo, for hours.
It’s fucking nuts. I worry this thing has tipped over into insanity.
I can’t eat, I barely sleep, and when I do, I dream of you.
You’re also my every waking thought. Nothing else could ever come close.
Every single moment of my day I feel a cold abyss trying to separate us forever.
It won’t give me any peace. I hope it’s the darkness before dawn, because I can’t take much more of this. ”
He’s beyond adorable, I can’t stand it. I wonder if my mother chose him, and has been guiding him to me, whispering in his ear this whole time.
“Poor thing. I’m still willing to help, if you’d like?”
His eyes shoot up. “You want to?”
“Terrible idea,” I smile, “but we are friends... and I would like to... a lot.”
“There you are!” Nancy says from behind me.
I jump in surprise. “Hey.”
Nancy grabs my arm again. “It’s showtime.”