Page 20 of Exquisite Things
“On beautiful faces,” Jack snaps, to applause.
“My goodness, enough now!” Brendan announces. “You two will kill me with these verbal daggers.”
“He’s right,” Shams says. “You see, Jack. Curiosity might be necessary, but it also killed the cat.” When he says this, his eyes glow orange in a way that startles us all.
“All right then, round one is over,” Jack agrees. “Now I’d like to propose a toast.”
I raise my glass up high. “I’ll make the toast,” I announce.
“You?” Jack asks. “You don’t even drink. What kind of toast can you make?”
“Why don’t you shut up so we can find out?” Shams asks, in a tone at once damning and ribald. I’ve never met anyone more expert at cutting Jack down to size. He’s wonderful.
“All righty then.” Jack backs down, impressed. Perhaps what Jack really wants, and needs, is someone strong enough to put him in his place.
My glass raised, I take a breath. “To all the romantics, who are far from hopeless. In fact, we’re nothing but hope. And also, to Plato. To Plato for understanding us. Isn’t life fantastic?”
“Something’s come over your cousin,” Cyril says to Brendan.
“I’m just happy, that’s all,” I say. “It feels a bit like a fog is lifting. Maybe it’s just that I’ve finally come to terms with the grief of my father’s passing. Or maybe it’s meeting you lot. The... thecamaraderie of being with you. I don’t know. But it feels, for the first time, like I may not be all future.” I look at Cyril as I say this, remembering what he told me about the lesson of his birthday. “It feels, finally, that I might be living in the present.” I turn my gaze to Shams. There’s understanding in his eyes. Without him saying a word, I know he empathizes with everything I’m saying. Perhaps he’s a stranger to me, but our few moments together moved us, changed us, started something that I hope keeps going.
On our way back into the main hall, we see a beautiful woman swaying to the music alone. Jack gives her a wink and tells her, “You’re absolutely stunning, doll. Did you pencil in those eyebrows yourself?”
“You think I’d let anyone else paint this face?” It’s not until the woman speaks these words that I realize she’s a man.
The boys must see the shock on my face because they all laugh and Jack says, “You’re so delightfully innocent, Oliver.”
“I—I thought you were—” I stammer. I don’t want to say anything stupid. I want to be accepted here. I want to know all the unspoken rules. “Are those lilies in your hair?”
“Why don’t you smell and find out?” the painted man asks slyly.
I feel my cheeks blush at the attention. “Well, they’re beautiful. And you’re beautiful. Like a film star, to be honest. I’m Oliver, by the way. And these are my friends—”
“Honey, I’ll forget your names before I finish drinking this Hanky Panky. Come see me at the masquerade ball, children. I won’t have lilies in my hair on the wrestling mat.”
As she walks away toward the bar, I turn to the boys. “What masquerade ball?”
Jack pulls out an invitation from his jacket pocket. “Straight from the printing press in the back room. It’s in two weeks.”
I read the invitation, which promises a night of astonishing melodrama with a costume competition and a damsel wrestling match. “So these men, dressed as women, wrestle each other?” I ask, trying to make sense of it all.
“A wholesome evening of entertainment,” Jack explains.
“I’m a wrestler,” I whisper. “Are they really going to wrestle or is it just for show?”
“Why don’t you enter the competition and find out?” Jack suggests. “I would pay good money to see you wrestle in a gown and heels.”
With a raised eyebrow, I ask, “How much good money?”
“Enough to make it worth your while. And I’ll even get you the costume.”
As we shake on it, Edna finds us and approaches me. “Eastman said he’d love you to play some piano, if you’re interested.”
“Me?” I ask. “All the pieces I know are melancholy and old. I’m not sure this crowd wants—”
“Old, melancholy things are my favorite,” Shams says. “I’d love to hear you play.”
“So would I,” Brendan says.
