Proclivities Xiv: the Party

Proclivities XIV: Our Survey Said...

Hmm, what to say about Thursday? George and I went to work together, no doubt confirming the gossip that I knew had been circulating in the office. After what we'd been through of late, who cares? Trivial, really. Besides, we had heavier concerns.

Over coffee and breakfast this morning, we agreed to see Chuck. Geroge even called on our way in and Chuck could see us right away, George declined to disclose the purpose, but assured its urgency.

"Best to take care of this first thing, lest we lose our nerve," George commented after he'd disconnected.

"Speak for yourself. I'm going in, with or without you."

"The Oracle has spoken."

"Wiseass."

Coffee in hand, we marched to Chuck's office. George knocked.

"C'mon in, kids," came the jovial invitation. It was only my second time in Chuck's office, the previous being round two of interviews for my job. On the left sat four matching leather chairs surrounding a round coffee table. Chuck's tech savvy oak desk to our right where he sat in one of those expensive ergonomic desk chairs. Outside of a keyboard, monitor, pad and pen, the desktop was barren. In front of the desk were a pair of metal and leather - industrial but comfortable - chairs, where Chuck motioned us to sit.

Once good morning greetings had been exchanged, Chuck grinned, "So is this professional or personal?"

A knock cane at the door.

"Yes?" asked Chuck.

Busybody Betty presently appeared, a scowl leaping to her face. Yup, she'd cornered the market for floral print dresses. Is that her entire wardrobe?

"Just wanted to see if you needed anything," she explained, although I'd wager she knew someone was in with Chuck and she just had to know.

"Nothing," Chuck advised calmly, "we're good, thank you. Please close the door, on your way out."

"Okay," she replied dejectedly and departed.

"Thank you," I sighed in relief.

"So, anyway," Chuck replied, "Professional or personal?"

"Both." George stated.

"Oh?" Chuck expressed his sudden concern.

"Well, this may sound crazy, but..." George began. Between the two of us we related our theory as Chuck listened intently - the absence of questions unsettling. At least I thought so.

"Hmm." he pondered. "Sounds like you two have been reading too many spy novels."

"I'm partial to romance," I quipped attempting to hide my anxiety that Chuck believe we'd let our imaginations

"Yeah," teased Chuck, "I have notice you reading bodice rippers in the break room during lunch."

"Sounds like?" asked George, undaunted.

"Yeah. Even I'm impressed. We weren't sure if you had it in you."

"We, as in you and Jack?"

"Precisely, but perhaps some explanation. Not that either of you were targeted specifically but I still consult occasionally. Mainly to identify people with potential for national security work," Chuck disclosed.

George and I sat in silent wonder, the reality different from conjecture. We were right. I can't fucking believe it!

"On top of that," Chuck continued, "pairing you two was not part of any master plan. The Rizzo brothers were an extraordinary situation. I'm not surprised that George viscerally reacted to protect you, but, damn, Linda! Your quick thinking with the flare gun showed a mettle I never suspected. And then the trap for the embezzler. Excellent. Not that Jack and I wouldn't have taken the same approach, nonetheless indicative of your mind."

George and I stared at each other, disbelief giving way to shit eating grins.

"So..." I said expectantly, my curiosity killing me.

"So, nothing..." Chuck said flatly, then his face brightened as he added, "for now."

"Then, when?" I asked, more expectantly than I should have.

"They'll run you through the system. The decision is above my pay grade. You'll have to undergo a background check. There'll be interviews, of course. But if you pass...Either of you have any skeletons in the closet?"

"Outside of the Rizzo situation? None," I offered.

"Same here," George concurred.

"Alright then," Check concluded rising behind his desk. "Just sit tight and not a word of this to anyone."

"We can do that," George agreed.

"Me too," I added.

"But there is one caveat," George added. "Linda and I discussed this possibility. We won't get involved in anything that would put us in any danger."

"Don't get so dramatic," Chuck guffawed. "This would only be research and analysis. Other than rare trips to D.C., you would be working from here or home."

"Then we're good. Right, Linda?"

"Perfect," I confirmed.

"Just one more thing," George said, "How much does Betty know about any of this?"

"As little as possible. She's aware that we're consulting on funds recovery. It would be impossible to hide the income, but I told her not to mind the details. On the other stuff, absolutely nothing. Okay?" Chuck advised and we nodded. "Then it's time for you two lovebirds to get back to work."

We both smiled but looked at Chuck with feigned innocence.

"C'mon. Even Blind Lemon Jefferson could recognize it. Nothing wrong with it at all. I'm truly happy for you. And remember, mum's the word."

We swore on a stack of bibles and returned to our desks. I can't say I did much work, however. My mind churned with countless scenarios. Thank goodness George took me to lunch so I could unburden my hyperactive mind and celebrate our successful sleuthing in hushed tones. At least the afternoon proved more productive.

But now it's Saturday morning and my thoughts had pivoted to the party - and meeting a bunch of George's friends for the first time. We surveyed the patio from the gazebo, savoring our first coffee of the day. The sun had risen, chasing the dew from the grass and the lingering humidity, signaling a glorious day for the party, partly cloudy with a high in the mid-eighties. Most importantly, it wouldn't be oppressively humid. Both of us barefoot, I was in my black "Naughty" robe - it had become my security blanket of sorts - he was in his white terry robe.

"We shouldn't have too much to do today, so we won't need to run ourselves ragged before our guests arrive," he said reassuringly.

"I hope so," I replied. He was right, but inwardly, I was nervous about meeting a bunch of his college buddies - and their partners. George, and Judy earlier in the week, both assured me that all would be well, but a voice in my head nagged about not screwing it up. George meant so much to me. What if they didn't like me? Foolish, I know, but I couldn't chase my insecurity.

I almost wished we had the distraction of a squillion things to do. Like yesterday. George smoked brisket, pork butt and chicken. I learned about properly tending the fire, adjusting the vents to maintain a near-constant 250 degrees, the proper color of the smoke, monitoring the temperature of the meats, the "stall" of the pork and brisket, wrapping them to stop the smoking and finish the cooking, achieving the proper final temperature to that the brisket would be tender and the pork would shred readily.

"The smoke should be viewed as a seasoning. Present, but not overwhelming the meat. Nobody wants a mouthful of just smoke," he'd professed.

There was more that I've already forgotten. But I certainly remember how long it took. We started at six in the morning and the sun had set by the time we'd finished putting the finished meats in disposable aluminum pans and stowed them in the basement fridge. Now I understood why he had it.

Yeah, it all made sense, but I was more of an onlooker - the fledgling apprentice - gladly observing. However, I did roll up my sleeves for the sides. Mac and cheese is in my wheelhouse. I also followed his recipe to prepare the German potato salad (no mayo, yeah!). Then baked beans, where I showed him my mom's hack. Cheap, store brand canned beans, rinsed in a colander, then doctored up with some sweated onions, crisp bacon bits, brown sugar, molasses, ketchup, and just enough hot sauce to keep it interesting.

George took care of the sauces: a peppery and vinegar-based Carolina sauce for the pork, a simple Texas style for the brisket, with a more traditional blend for the chicken. Then there was his own concoction, Mango Peach Habanero, "kind of an Indian chutney meets Memphis," he advised. I was the official taster. They were all good, each with a distinct profile. His creation made my tongue dance.

For dessert, we (okay, mostly George) made a lemon semifreddo, something cool and creamy after the tangy barbeque. Some of his friends would bring baked goods - cookies, brownies and the like.

Today would indeed be simpler. The only dishes requiring preparation were the coleslaw and guacamole, but these could not be prepared too much in advance. Otherwise, just setting the tables on the patio, the bar - keeping it to the basics, bourbon, gin and vodka with appropriate mixers, ice, lime wedges and red wine. Beer, soda, water, and white wine would be iced down in some coolers.

So, once we were properly caffeinated, George whipped up a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast and we set about getting everything ready. The guests should arrive around two, so we had ample time to shower and change. Unfortunately, it was also sufficient for me to agonize over what I'd wear.

"Whatever you're comfortable with," George assured me after we'd cleaned up and I sought his advice. "Hell, you can even include underwear if that's what it takes. I know you're nervous already and I don't want to add to your anxiety."

"Thanks. Not sure which way I'm gonna go, but at least I don't have to worry about disappointing you."

"You never have. No need to overthink it. Take your time, I'm sure you'll look great in whatever you decide."

Of course, he was already dressed. Navy shorts and a garish red Luau shirt with parrots.

"Easy for you to say, but I'm having trouble hearing you."

"Huh? Why?" he asked.

"Because that shirt is so loud."

"I know. Isn't it great? But it might not be as bold as some you may see today."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, kind of college tradition. Speaking of which, we'll probably have some company tonight."

"You said it was a possibility when we first discussed the party."

"I spoke to Pete and Dave yesterday. They're carpooling from Pennsylvania with their wives. Apparently, no one wants to be the designated driver."

"Good idea. We certainly have the room. Besides, that way, I'll get to know them better. Hung over, warts and all."

"Thanks. And I like the way you said, we. I'm heading downstairs to do a final check. One more thing, thanks for all your help yesterday and today. Certainly made it less stressful, more fun" he declared, turned, and exited.

"Come on, girl," I muttered. "You can't go to the party in just your makeup!"

I don't have an obnoxious Luau shirt, but I do have that long bright pink and green floral skirt, so I won't need panties. That'll pair nicely with a pink camisole with extra support. No bra needed. And that gauzy white blouse for layering, just in case my nipples decide to act up.

With my wardrobe decided, the rest was easy. A quick perusal in the mirror. Check my hair and makeup one last time. Slip on some white sandals. Yup. Good to go. I hope everyone else thinks so. Check the time. Quarter to two. Perfect.

I found George relaxing in the gazebo with a gin and tonic in a red plastic tumbler.

"You look fabulous," he said, toasting me with his cup. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Yes, please. Vodka and tonic. My nerves could use one."

I followed George into the kitchen and in short order, he passed me my drink.

"Cheers," I said, and our glasses clunked. Plastic just doesn't have the same celebratory tone as glass. "So, is everything ready?"

"I think so. I just put the meats and beans in a low oven. They should be ready around 4 and we'll need to get the potato salad out around three-thirty, just to take the chill off. At the last minute, we'll dress the coleslaw."

"Not your first rodeo, I see."

"And later, you can try bull riding and see if you can make it the bell," he joked. "So you want to give me a hand with the guac and chips?"

"Sure. I'll get the chips."

He divided the guacamole into three multicolor melamine bowls and placed them on matching platters resting everything on the breakfast bar. I surrounded the bowls with tortilla chips.

"We're ready," he declared, pressing plastic wrap down on the dip. "Let's go out on the patio and wait for company. We can take these out after they arrive."

The patio looked ready to party. Both tables covered with stripped vinyl tablecloths, oversized umbrellas raised above to ward off the bright sun. White paper napkins standing vertically in black holders, small red plates stacked alongside. Just add people. We seated ourselves in the shade at the table nearest the driveway.

"The flowers you added last week are a nice touch," he said.

"I'm glad you like them."

Truth be told, although the patio was impressive, all that stone and brick was drab and cold. It needed color, so I'd stopped at a home improvement store and picked up some pots of marigolds, geraniums, and impatiens, placing them around the top of the surrounding wall.

Presently, a white Subaru Outback rolled down the driveway. No front license plate...hmm, that means Pennsylvania. Here goes nothing.

"Come on," said George excitedly, pulling me by the hand towards the steps as they alighted from the car.

Introduction ensued. Peter and Mary, Dave and Karen. Peter stood a few inches above six-foot with thick dark brown hair. His wife Mary, about my height, shoulder length light brown hair, but what bright blue eyes!. Dave's appearance surprised me, his long salt and pepper hair drawn back in a ponytail, the style matching Karen's dirty blonde. As George had predicted, both guys sported gaudy Luau shirts. Peter in blue, Dave in yellow. The women were more refined. Karen had black shorts that accentuated her full behind. A pink polo clung to a pair of large breasts. Mary had copied my look in a purple camisole and a long, flowing navy skirt. However, her pear shape differed from mine. Probably premature to ask about her underwear's disposition. I did my best to process who was who, trying to identify something unique about everyone and keep the names straight.

Peter gave me a big hug. "It's great to meet you. George has raved about you so much; I thought you might be his imaginary friend."

"Don't mind him," Mary assured me in her embrace. "His bark is worse than his bite."

Dave and Karen were equally friendly, easing my nerves.

"Alright, then, how about we go on in and I can fix you some drinks," suggested George.

"Okay," Mary said. "Karen and I will take the sweets. You guys can handle the bags."

Dave popped the trunk, and the guys took their time collecting the luggage, preoccupied with busting each other's stones. It's what guys do, right? Or was I the topic of conversation?

I led Mary and Karen to the kitchen so they could put down the desserts.

"Looks like George finally got it right," Karen said softly so only the three of us would hear. "Wouldn't you say, Mary?"

"Got that right. We're not trying to pressure you or anything, but from what Pete told us, you're very fond of each other."

"Thanks," I stammered nervously. They cut to the chase, didn't they?

"Sorry," Mary consoled. "It's just that we've known George a long time and it's so good to see him happy. He's a sweetheart, but we were beginning to wonder if he'd ever find someone."

"Especially after those disasters with Kim and Marcie," added Karen. "Oops, did I say too much.?"

"Not at all," I confirmed. "I know all about them - or at least why they broke up."

"Whew," Karen smiled, "I was afraid I'd just stepped in it."

"No worries," I confirmed. "We've talked a lot, so I doubt there much I don't know about him."

"What we're trying to say, is that we're happy for both of you."

"That's so good to hear," I confessed, warming to them, "I was really nervous about meeting you today."

"We were too, but judging by the smiles on your faces..."

Among some loud and hearty laughter, the guys entered the kitchen, Dave and Pete each with a duffle slung over their shoulders.

"So, Linda, did they get out the rubber hoses yet" Pete asked, grinning broadly.

"Those come later," Mary continued the friendly repartee.

Yeah, my anxiety was misplaced. Including me in their tomfoolery put me at ease.

"Dave, Pete," George continued. "Two bedrooms have twin beds, the other a queen. I'll let you two slug it out for first dibs."

"Nah," retorted Pete. "This time, I think Karen and Mary should Jell-O wrestle for the honors."

"See what I have to put up with?" Mary admitted jovially, directed at me, then turning to Pete. "We'll take the twin beds. Nothing, for you tonight, mister."

After more laughter, George said as he relieved Dave and Pete of the duffels, "Alright then, I'll run these upstairs," just as more cars parked in the drive.

"It's Judy and some guys from the office," I advised. "I'll handle it." Motioning to the far side of the kitchen, I added, "Oh...and the bar is in the dining room. Pete, would you mind?" I was certain he wouldn't. To my great relief, we'd left formality in the dust.

"So, I'm reduced to bartender now," Pete shouted behind me.

In short order, a crowd of about twenty was gathered on the patio. Of course, Judy had teased me about my royal accommodations, but that was just her way of saying she was impressed and happy for me. Was there a tinge of jealousy in there? Perhaps. I know I would be if I were in her shoes. Later, of course, Judy dragged Bob into the kitchen while George and I were checking on the food and everyone else was outside. We tried our best, but Bob mostly nodded throughout the conversation. Hopefully, we moved the needle. I was certain that Judy would give me the gory details in the near future.

Mark, George's third buddy on the guest list arrived with his girlfriend Susan, both plunged headlong into the festivities. I was so glad Katie from the accounting department along and her husband Joe accepted my invitation. She'd been a welcome smile when I first started, helping me navigate the employee enrollment process. We chatted as the opportunity arose and she was the first at OTP to know George and I were dating - well before the rumor mill started spinning.

Unsurprisingly, only two of the five programmers from work brought dates, but everyone circulated, and the cacophony of laughter and conversation were gratifying, particularly in George's joy at playing host and making everyone feel welcome. Something I didn't know about him, and yet a predictable extension of his personality.

Time accelerated and before I knew it, we were cleaning up dessert at around six-thirty. Raves of our culinary skills were universal, but I deflected it to George's mastery.

With the meal complete, people from the office started to leave, but I asked Katie and Joe to stay. She was afraid of intruding, but I assured her that the party was for my friends too. Of course, Judy and Bob remained. I'd have been pissed if she hadn't. But she knew that.

Mary and Karen were helping in the kitchen with me and George. The leftovers had been stowed in the fridge and I'd just fired off the dishwasher, so we were free. Everyone else was outside, and, from the sound of things, the party was still going strong.

The patio door opened enough for Peter to stick his head in. "You know, Dave wants to know when you're going to show us your boat."

"I doubt Dave said any such thing," stated Mary.

"It's okay," George said. "I'll be right there. Umm, Linda, there's at least an hour of daylight left. How would you feel if I took the guys for a boat ride? We'll just motor out to the bay and back."