22
Vivian
The Gala Begins
Vivian arrived three hours before event time in her sweats, her hair carefully pinned up in a scarf.
She parked her Mini-Cooper, stuffed to the windows with supplies in the fire lane in front of the building, and got out.
With her gown in a garment bag over her shoulder, Vivian stopped to survey the venue’s exterior.
The Performing Arts Center was a little older and therefore not on the top tier list of event venues for Seattle, but it did have ample parking and a recent remodel had freshened up on the inside.
The outside still had a seventies vibe with a jutting portico and heavy swooping concrete planters that had been filled with native grasses.
But the portico offered a covered walkway up to the front doors, making a red-carpet effect possible.
Overall, Vivian was pleased with the venue, particularly for the price.
Vivian arrived at the Arts Center as the staff began to roll out the Astroturf.
The theme was garden party, and the fake grass was vibrantly green against the shades of gray cement.
The tall planters also had the enormous six-foot-tall poppy flowers the event committee had spent a weekend crafting.
Vivian almost clapped her hands in glee.
“I know!” exclaimed Ashley, coming through the tall glass doors. “It looks just like we envisioned it, right?”
Behind Ashley, Vivian could see the floral window decals going on. The front of the building was encased in floor-to-ceiling windows, and once the sun set—which at this time of the year would be around six—the lights would shine through the colored flowers.
“It really does!”
“Did you bring the lanterns?”
“In the car.”
“Great! I’ll round up someone to bring a handtruck out and we’ll get them unloaded.
Vivian and Ashley worked through the remaining time. The servers had finished setting up the pre-function cocktail bars, and Vivian was glaring at her checklist when she heard a cheerful voice boom from the entryway.
“How we doing?” exclaimed Father Fred. “Because it looks like we’re doing awesome!”
“I think we’re on target,” said Vivian.
“Then you should probably go get ready, Cinderella,” said Father Fred. “Can’t have you wooing donors in your sweats. Or anyone else, for that matter. Are you bringing a date this year?”
She should have seen it coming. Father Fred asked her that every year.
“Um...”
His head swiveled back like he was robo-priest. “Yes?” he said, raising an eyebrow and a smile beginning to grow.
“Well, I can’t sit with him until after, but... he did get a table.”
“We like tables,” said Chappie. “But do we like him? What kind of person is he?”
“Retired Marine Force Recon,” Vivian blurted out.
She realized suddenly that she’d never had to run any of her boyfriends by her father and maybe that’s why she had the flop sweats over telling Chappie and Howard.
She’d never practiced introducing anyone who mattered to anyone who had come to matter.
“Well,” said Chappie, rocking back on his heels. “That’s a driven individual. We like that too. Family? Religion?”
“Two brothers and a nephew, and I don’t really know? You know Marines.”
“Yes, the Corps is rather their religion. We can work with that. How does he treat you?”
“With respect and care,” snapped Vivian. How did he think her boyfriends treated her?
“Excellent.” He looked inordinately pleased.
“Oh, you and Howard!” exclaimed Vivian in exasperation.
“Yes,” agreed Chappie, nodding. “Howard and I generally see eye to eye on a great many things.”
“I’m going to get changed now. You can go find Howard and gossip all you want.”
“Thank you. I believe that I will.”
Vivian went upstairs to the tiny office that was their assigned changing area. She carefully unzipped her garment bag and stared at the one-shouldered red satin gown she’d selected in the hopes of knocking Rowan’s socks off.
She was only mid-way through make-up and hair when she heard guests start to arrive. Ashley came in to shimmy into her black tux pantsuit. Vivian watched enviously as Ashley went Skims-free into narrow pants and a well-tailored jacket.
“What?” asked Ashley, laughing as she buttoned herself up and carefully settled her headset back over her hair.
“You look so streamlined,” said Vivian. “I always feel like Miss Frizzle, and, while I am rocking this corset, I sometimes wish I was a little less hourglass-shaped.”
“And I look awesome AF, but still, just once, I’d like to be described as curvy. Do you know how hard it is for a Black girl to hear why you gotta white girl ass in high school?”
Vivian grimaced. “Oh, God. Why are boys so mean?”
“That was from my aunts,” said Ashley bitterly.
“You’re beautiful exactly the way you are!”
Vivian blushed as she realized she had nearly yelled her angry compliment.
“And you will throw hands on that?” asked Ashley, laughing.
“Yes, probably,” said Vivian. “We do not bring our girls down. There is only up.”
“Well, that is why you’re my girl,” said Ashley. “Fortunately, my Mom has the same attitude, so I managed to make it to adulthood as the well-adjusted weirdo that I am.”
“Uh, I think you mean the well-adjusted weirdo we know and love,” said Vivian.
There was a rise in voices, and Vivian went to peer out the window down at the lobby.
“The doors to the dining room have opened,” said Ashley, assuredly.
“Yeah,” said Vivian vaguely as she spotted the Valkyrie crew. It was possible that she was crazy, but she could have sworn Rowan was walking in slow-mo. The suit was black and fit him in all the right places. Damn, her man was fine.
“Ohhhhhhhh,” said Ashley, peering over her shoulder. “That is a boy squad I could get with.”
“I think they get mad if you call them a boy squad,” said Vivian.
“What are they then?”
“A boy squad,” said Vivian. “But you can’t say it to their faces.”
“OK, but which ones can I have?”
“That one is married, and that one is mine,” said Vivian, pointing out Mark and Rowan. “After that, have fun. But I like Teddy a lot. And Tyrique is really sweet, although he can’t play poker.”
“I can’t play poker either,” said Ashley.
“Well, then, you’re a perfect match.”
Ashley chuckled. “OK, finish getting pretty, and I’ll—”
“Oh, shitballs,” said Vivian. “He’s talking to Chappie. What do you want to bet Chappie says something monumentally embarrassing? Like how he remembers when I had bangs or got my period or something?”
“Those are the two most embarrassing moments of your life?” asked Ashley, looking startled.
“Well, Dad told literally everyone, and those bangs shall live in infamy.”
“Well, I understand, but still... Those are the top two? Those are the ones that make you cringe at three in the morning and wish the universe had turned out differently?”
“No, that’s asking out Brian Swanson and the fifth-grade fart. But Chappie doesn’t know about those.”
“OK, whew. I was kind of feeling like one of us wasn’t living our life right. OK, well, I’ll go see if I can’t separate them. Do you want me to tell Rowan to meet you back by the backstage area so he can get a look at the dress?”
“Yes, please!”
“OK, but no making out because I only have one makeup remover wipe left, and I won’t know which one of you to use it on.”
Vivian chuckled as Ashley left but hurried to finish her makeup and wiggle into her dress. She turned to look at herself in the mirror.
Tonight was the night. Vivian felt an unmistakable flutter of nerves. She’d been telling everyone that she was trying to keep things lowkey for work, but the truth was that publicly stating that she was with Rowan meant that everyone would know how broken-hearted she was when things went south.
She had never wanted anyone like she wanted Rowan.
But she also couldn’t help feeling like they were on unequal footing.
If everyone saw them together, would they think he was dating down or, even worse, that she was just arm candy?
Or even worse than worse, what if Rowan thought of her as this month’s entertainment?
Vivian ran a hand over her waist and hip, smoothing the fabric, and stood a little straighter. If this dress couldn’t make Rowan fall at her feet, then she didn’t know what could.