2003: “Leander, What the hell are you doing?” Casey shrieked in horror. She had stopped to check on Leander’s progress with the decorating. She thought it would be safe enough to leave him with the simple task of artfully draping blue streamers around the guardrail of the roof garden. She should have been more vigilant. How had he sneaked the hugest bag of cotton-balls she had ever seen passed her?
In the ensuing weeks since they had decided to have the party, they had learned that they definitely had divergent tastes in terms of decorating. Leander wanted drama and glamour while Casey wanted casual and simple. Casey had thought they had reached a happy medium. But she now watched in disbelief, her mouth agape, while the man carelessly tossed cotton-balls on chairs, tables, the floor and on every available surface.
“I’m creating atmosphere, Case!” Leander said innocently, continuing to toss handfuls of the puffy, white globes.
“Of what--an emergency room?” Casey returned sarcastically.
“No, silly. The cotton-balls are supposed to represent snowflakes. They were the closest things I could find. They’ll give people the illusion that it’s cooler. Have some imagination.”
“And when did we discuss an impending snowstorm, Leander?” Casey asked, arms on her hips.
“Well, we didn’t—“he began.
“Exactly. Now pick up those damned balls! They’re gonna get all trampled on and stick to peoples’ feet and sandals. Can’t I trust you with anything?” Casey sighed in exasperation.
“I will not! We’re supposed to be working on this shin-dig together, Missy, and so far, all you’ve let me do is nod my head in agreement with your suggestions.” Leander said huffily.
“That is because my suggestions have been the best ones.”
“Says you!” Leander bellowed. “I don’t even know why I’m helping you with this. You obviously want to do it all yourself. You’re such a control hag.”
“Listen, Leander. This is my scheme and we’ll do things my way—this time. When you want me to help you lure someone in, we’ll do things your way. Okay?” She dropped the tablecloth and advanced on him menacingly, her fingers outstretched in tickle mode. Seeing what Casey had in mind, Leander ripped the bag open even wider and whirled around, the cotton-balls swirling out, flying and falling in every direction.
“Leander!” Casey screamed. She reached out and began to tickle him. He squealed and doubled over under her merciless onslaught. He was hopelessly ticklish and Casey used this to her advantage. She wondered if Rosanna was still ticklish. This thought caused her to think about tickling Rosanna and having it lead to other more sensuous activities. She stopped abruptly.
“Listen, Leander, if anyone has an accident because of your strewn balls, you are going to pay their medical bills,” Casey said, retrieving the tablecloth and spreading it over a long table they had rented for the occasion. “They’re going to be cool enough because it’ll be evening. They won’t need any illusions.”
Through gasps of breath Leander said, “Please! I think my balls are a nice touch.” They looked at each other, their eyes gleaming with mischief, and broke into hysterical laughter.
“All right, but you’ve been warned.” Casey said, returning to her bare tables. The morning’s heat gave a hint of the sultry day to come and Casey decided not to press the issue. She had more important things to ponder—such as her choice of outfit, hair and makeup. All Leander would do was throw on a pair of shorts and a polo shirt. Where was the thought process in that?
Leander dumped the now empty cotton-ball bag into a large trash bin. He sauntered over to Casey, brushing stray cotton-balls from his curls, and began helping her with covering the remaining tables.
“Did you get the band?” he asked casually.
“Yes, I did. They came highly recommended,” Casey said without looking up.
“Really? By whom?” Leander asked suspiciously.
“By Sedilla,” Casey muttered.
“Sedilla? Have you gone nuts? Sedilla doesn’t know the first thing about good music. She thinks elevator music is cool. What possessed you to ask her?” Leander shrieked. He groaned and flung a hand over his eyes.
“Well, we were talking and she said she’d gone to this cool concert given by this band, who handed out cards. She told them about the party and they gave her a reasonable price—“ Casey did not get a chance to finish.
Leander dropped his end of the tablecloth. “I bet that’s all you heard—reasonable. I can’t believe you entrusted a party so important to that nut! Okay. You are nuts!”
“Come on, Leander. Have a little faith. Sedilla’s taste in music isn’t that bad. She just tends to go towards the schmaltzy stuff. Besides we do want them to be a bit on the romantic side. I am trying to catch Ross. Remember?” She decided not to mention that the group’s name was Light 106, which was a play on an easy-listening station.
“The woman is tone-deaf and you entrust her with providing the music. Well, all I can say is you better start praying to whatever deity you believe in because I’m sure we’re going to need some divine intervention.”
“She is not tone deaf, Leander. She can’t be; she sings in a chorus.” Casey countered.
“And has she ever invited you to a performance, Casey?
“Well…no, but—“
“I rest my case—so to speak.” Leander picked up his end of the tablecloth snapped it, wrenching it from Casey’s hands. They might as well have been a comedy act and it was only by sheer willpower that they were able to complete the final preparations for the evening.
Casey dabbed Jasmine oil behind her ears, on her wrists and between her cleavage. She stepped back surveying herself in the full-length mirror affixed to the closet door. She smiled at her reflection. Rosanna would have to be unconscious not to respond to what Casey considered a pretty sexy package. Her outfit consisted of a strapless powder-blue sundress, high-heeled sandals, which she hoped she’d could dance in, if not, she would kick them off). She had piled her thick auburn hair up in an elegant bun with combs, leaving loose strands framing her face. She thought this style might serve two purposes: to look great and to keep her cool. She applied light makeup as she knew she would be lucky if it lasted for half the evening. Casey wanted to dazzle her Rosanna as the object of her lust came through the entrance to the roof garden. Merely thinking of Rosanna caused her to want to throw herself on to her bed and indulge in one of her favorite activities with her little buddy. There was, however, no time for that. With a little luck, and some heavy flirting, the delectable Ms. Romero would be hers for the taking. She grinned wickedly at the thought of seeing Rosanna in summer attire. She bounced up and ran to her kitchen to retrieve a bottled water.
Casey’s intermittent e-mails and phone calls over the past months had paid off. Rosanna had finally relented and decided to attend the B-party, as she and Leander had dubbed it. Casey’s initial attempts to lure Rosanna to her apartment were met with terse responses and adamant refusals. Casey was nothing if not persistent. She promised, pleaded and played on their high school friendship. The last tactic had turned out to be the best one. They reminisced about old teachers, students and escapades and realized why they had been such good friends in the first place.
Although Leander had warned Casey several times about inviting Solace to the party, she could not resist the evil streak that ran through her. She knew it was wrong to involve Solace but she thought it would definitely add a bit of spice to the evening’s proceedings. Always one to leap first and then look, she did not think of the consequences of the two women meeting for she did not know the extent of their relationship. Leander had simply told her that Rosanna had called Solace’s name as she dropped off to sleep--or something like that. Leander was such a drama hound, though. They were probably nothing more than good friends. The fact that she had not mentioned the presence of either woman to the other did not weigh heavily on Casey’s conscience at all.
Leander vigorously shook first one then the next four containers. He grinned as he thought of the contents in the lovely decanters. His great grandmother’s recipe would certainly liven up the party. He hadn’t made it in a while so he was careful to follow the directions to the letter as he wanted it to have a kick but not deliver a blow that would render the unsuspecting individual unconscious. He was, however, aware of the drink’s addictive nature. He would make a sign, warning party-goers of the potency of the potable and he and Casey would have to make sure no one who had the drink would be driving home. All that would be taken care of once he got dressed. He planned to wear his new khaki walking shorts, a blue tank top and sandals. He had been working out and wanted to show off what muscle definition he was developing. He sighed as he posed and flexed in the mirror. At least Casey had agreed upon the blue theme. He suddenly grimaced when he thought about the music. Good grief, they’d be fortunate if Sedilla’s group played even one decent dance tune. He should have insisted that Casey let him pick the band. Leander sighed in resignation. He stopped suddenly, trying to remember if he had told Casey about his special brew. Oh well, no matter. It would be a crowd-pleaser for sure anyway.
L. D. growled as she donned the navy blue slacks and matching sleeveless shirt. Navy blue was at least close to her beloved black. She was also trying out a new hairstyle, with a bang falling rakishly over her left eye rather than brushing it all back. Why she was going to this ridiculous blue party she could not fathom, but secretly she hoped that Solace would be there. Only the light at the end of this blue tunnel would make the event worth attending. Casey had casually mentioned that she had invited Solace, but that she was going to get back to her to let her know if she could definitely be there. As L. D. had not wanted to drop her cool façade in front of Casey, she had simply smiled and affected an air of nonchalance upon hearing this news. Inside, however, everything was fluttering and beating wildly.
