Page 122 of Knot Just for Show

In fact, the six of us begged off an extra day to lie around in bed recovering. If I'd had my way, we would have spent the whole next week just lazing around eating breakfast, lunch and possibly even dinner in our massive nest bed. However, shooting schedules had only allowed the original week for pack trial heats, so after our singular day of rest, we began buzzing about Redthorn, preparing to reveal La Cerise, in its completed state, to Ursula.

Ash and his sneaky ways, had gotten Ursula to begin practicing a couple of jazz standards with him on the large grand piano at the corner of the grand salon at Redthorn. Unbeknownst to Ursula, we had all been treated to these early private performances, and all felt fairly confident that Ursula had no idea of the ulterior motives of these little jam sessions.

Under the pretense of having our own private dinner to celebrate the exit interviews we shot this morning, ahead of the big full cast and crew party tomorrow night—officially the last obligations we would have to Build-A-Pack-Blind until the reunion show in several months; we told Ursula to wear something that made her feel like a star.

Ever the romantic, Ursula appeared from the boudoir in a beautiful royal blue velvet dress spangled with tiny rhinestone stars—its tight pencil skirt and a sweetheart neckline showcased the shape of her beautiful, curvaceous body—the ensemble making her look like part of the night sky.

“You gotta stop pulling out all these incredible dresses, Princess.” I offer her my hand and spin her around slowly, so that my packmates can get a good look at her. “You’re makingme second guess leaving the house tonight,” I rumble, slowly drawing her to me.

“I’m not the one who insisted that we go out tonight!” Ursula sing songs—twirling out of my grip as if we’re taking a turn about the dance floor.

“I know I know!” Ash extends an open hand to Ursula, sweeping her into his arms—eager to be her next momentary dance partner. “I just really wanted to have this time together—since all of this is coming to an end.” He nuzzles his nose against hers affectionately and Ursula pecks a kiss onto his lips.

Bless Ash for being our decoy fall guy.

“Where exactly are we going for dinner anyway?” Ursula cranes her neck to get a better look out the tinted windows of the limo as we pull out of the gates at Redthorn.

“Oh you know, just a little boutique place—technically it's a bit of a preview since it's not even open to the public yet,” Mavren hints, refusing to give a name. “But I happen to know the executive chef and the owners, so I got us in early,” he adds—and I could swear I catch him wink at the rest of us guys.

When we pull in front of the single glass door, red velvet stairs descending into golden light are just barely visible through the smoky tint of the glass; the light-studded signLa Cerisein red and gold above the lintel, another neon sign hung in the narrow staircase just beyond the door bearing the same namesake—Ursula has a little laugh to herself.

“I certainly like the color scheme they went with!” she giggles as Lysander, and I move to the open limo door to help her out of the car in those skyscraper high pumps.

“Shall we?” Lysander purrs as Ronan pulls open the glass door—the stairs stepping down into dim golden light.

“We shall!” Ursula gives my bicep a squeeze as we take our first step down, the warm rosy light from the neon sign bearinga pair of cherries on their stem balanced on a coupe glass—tilted at its base and poised to tip over.

“This place looks absolutely incredible!” she marvels as we traverse the short hallway lined with red velvet curtains, black and white checkered tile on the floor and mirrors peeking through the velvet here and there until we draw into the main dining room and performance area.

On one wall, a long bar takes up nearly the wall’s entire length, the polished wood poised before the showcase of liquors—cleverly shelved betwixt red velvet curtains tied back with large golden ropes—their tassels catching in the low light of the supper club; the bar giving the impression of a proscenium stage in miniature.

Across from the bar tables radiated in semi-circular arc formations–all of the plush leather chairs are turned to give them the best view of the stage at the center of the concentric half moons of dinner tables—more red velvet curtains obscuring the mysteries beyond the edge of the stage.

Ursula lets out a muffled gasp as she sees it.

“Are we going to get to see a show?” Her eyes sparkle—and I’m surprised she hasn’t clocked that we’re the only ones in this empty restaurant yet.

“I suppose that depends on you,” Ash purrs, gesturing to Lysander, who makes his way down to the edge of the stage—climbing up the curved stairs at the far right of the apron of the stage to pull back the curtains.

Now, I can see Ursula’s mind spinning—her head snaps around, her eyes clearly searching for any staff—a possible owner, a single soul besides us in this place; finding none.

“Did you—are you boys?” she stammers, her hand laid over her heart as her breathing picks up speed.

In the center of the stage is a gleaming black baby grand piano, beside it—a gold old-timey-microphone and matching stand.

“What do you say? Shall we play for them?” Ash extends his hand to Ursula and she takes it, her hands trembling as she threads her arm through his, stepping carefully through the aisles between dinner tables as she makes her way to the stage.

Already ahead of the curve, Mavren appears with a tray of cocktails and ushers the rest of us to a front and center seat at our private table—directly at the edge of the stage.

“What is this?” Ursula asks shakily—looking out at us from her place on the stage, her fingers curling around the mic stand instinctively as she glares dreamily out at us—at the empty seats beyond.

“La Cerise!” Mavren answers happily.

“The latest supper club and Jazz venue,” Lysander supplies, taking my hand in his as he settles down next to me.

“Where I get to play accompanist and piano man to one of the greatest singers I’ve ever met,” Ash adds encouragingly, pushing back the black gleaming key cover from the piano and tapping out a few notes.

“So, Ursula…” I ask looking up at her under the golden stage lights—a grin across my face. “Forget about forever—would you sing for us, for now?”

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