It was the evening of the dinner party, and Karen was doing her customary freak-out with these types of events. It was her behavior when stressed, consisting of her moods bouncing between a short-tempered, nervous anxiety to one of giddy playfulness. Fortunately, the caterers arrived, which gave her something to do other than worry about the upcoming frivolities. My only worry was that she was already hitting the sauce pretty hard, and was well into her second glass of wine. Anymore, and I was going to rethink administering the elixir to her, or even call the whole thing off.
"How many does that make?" I asked, tapping her glass as a mild rebuke.
"Just my second," she said apologetically, and then added with minor irritation, "Don't bug me about it, I'm nervous...Okay!"
"All the same, slow down. You get anymore tipsy and even Jackie will start sounding coherent next to you...Okay!"
It wasn't long thereafter before the guests started to arrive. Mark Cope was the first. He was a bit surprised at being invited, particularly because his divorce from his ex-wife, Linda, wasn't very amicable and that she was still good friends with Karen. Karen assured him that he was still counted as friend, and that it wasn't fair he should be ostracized from our group, even though Linda hated his guts.
Mark and I were always cordial with each other, but never what one would call friends. He was slightly shorter than me, muscular, with dirty blonde hair that always seemed to need barbering. He was prone to wearing golf shirts, always combined with v-neck sweaters and khakis, and had a typical ex-jock persona, who was now selling cars since hanging up his cleats. Cope wasn't classically handsome, and it was obvious that any boyish good looks were not aging well. However, he had a roguish quality, particularly when he smiled, which he did freely and often. It was probably what Karen found most attractive about him, besides the rumors of his equipment, and as I studied him closer, I had to admit that he reminded me of a more or less harmless, lighter variety of Roger Kendall. That was probably another reason why Mark was on Karen's mind of late, and gave me a little insight into her thinking and emotions that I hadn't known before.
The Averys arrived next. They were about ten to fifteen years my senior. Both were tall and lean in build, and to use an old, yet apt cliché, they appeared to make a handsome couple. I say appeared, because as I would find out, their outward conformity in looks didn't match their internal animosity toward each other.
By most anyone's account, Jack was a brutally handsome man, and his good looks were matched only by his reputation with the ladies. His dalliances with female clients and the office secretarial pool were legendary in the company. Yet, unlike others so inclined, his peccadilloes never seemed to interfere with his business sense and rarely became a negative concern in his running a smooth operation. That is except one time, when it was rumored Denise walked in on him at the office after hours. It happened long before I became a project manager, and since that time I never heard of another incident with him at the office—although some the male business clientele still spoke of him with hushed reverence.
Standing in our foyer, Jack Avery was impeccably dressed as usual, wearing a well-tailored, dark suit that contrasted well with his whitened, full head of hair. I thought he wore too much gold, however. Many gold rings, a gold watch, and as I would find out, a heavy gold chain. All of which, when coupled with a deep tan he always possessed, made him appear as a lothario rather than a top-drawer executive. His one, overriding character was a loud and boisterous laugh, which could be heard and easily distinguished above even the noisiest settings. Some at the company remarked that if ever you were separated from the group at a crowded convention, just wait a few moments and you'll hear Jack's characteristic chortle. It worked better than a foghorn in a heavy mist.
In all of this, Denise was his exact opposite. Whereas Jack looked and acted vibrate and young for his age, the few times I'd seen Denise, she seemed to be carrying a heavy burden about her. Evidence of which was mostly expressed as the small, telltale lines that radiated out the corners of her eyes and mouth, and care lines that wrinkled her forehead. That's not to say she was dour in spirit or prone to melancholy. Quite the contrary, she was always quick to smile and had a bright, infectious laugh.
To sum up her personality in line: she had a regal beauty, but a peasant's love for life and people. What I found most enduring about her was that every time she smiled, two, deep creases formed, one on either cheek. These were not care lines, but natural creases that she probably had since birth, and when she smiled, it was as if they formed parentheses that accentuated her lovely mouth. Coupled with her narrowing eyes when she laughed, these features gave her face an impish quality that I found alluring. It was difficult for me not to become sexually excited whenever she smiled. However, I could tell she was self-conscious of her deep creases, for every time she caught herself in too gay a mood, she would quickly move a hand up to cover her mouth. All of that aside, even with her regal beauty and impish, infectious smile, I always got the impression she was some walking 'Portrait of Dorian Gray,' where each of Jack's infidelities was expressed as a new wrinkle or care line on her lovely face.
Karen got the two a drink and took them for a quick tour of the house.
Fashionably late as usual, Jackie was the last to arrive, and beautiful as ever. She was wearing a long black skirt that extended almost to the floor, complimented with a white, sleeveless blouse that did little to hide her ample cleavage. With her, she had brought one of the two women that I briefly met at her office.
"William, you remember Cecilia, don't you?" Jackie said as she kissed me lightly on the cheek.
"Hello, Mister Henry," Cecilia said nervously as she extended a hand.
"Of course I do, welcome," I said taking her hand in both of mine, "And please call me Will."
I didn't recognize her at first, and then realized that she had changed her hair since I saw her last. At the DMV, she sported a short afro, but now her hair was long and straight. She was also stunning in a long, pale yellow, sleeveless dress, the color contrasting wonderfully with her deep ebony skin. Her most striking feature, however, were her light brown eyes, which sometimes radiated a deep amber color and other times a pale gold depending on how the light reflected off them.
I was about to offer them a drink and find Karen, when Karen came up beside me. I thought she was going to have an apoplexy, "Jackie, the party was for six! Can't you count?"
Seeing the look on Karen's face, Cecilia took a quick step behind Jackie, saying in almost a whisper, "Jackie, I don't think this was such a good idea."
I started to laugh, "Nonsense, you're here and that's all that matters. We're both very happy to have you, and we have plenty of food and drink...Right dear?" Karen grumbled an acknowledgement before I continued, "And this lovely person is my wife, Karen, and although you wouldn't guess, she is really quite sweet and accommodating...Right dear?"
Karen softened when she realized her anger at Jackie was inadvertently making Cecilia uncomfortable, "Of course, please forgive me. I get nervous sometimes planning these parties." Then turning to me, she said while giving me an exasperated eye, "The more the merrier it would seem." Well, she hadn't softened too much.
Seeing that I should separate Karen from Jackie before blows were landed, I said, "Karen, why don't you take Cecilia and get her a glass of wine. Then she can help you set another place at the table."
