“Guilt isn’t in my vocabulary.” He smirks.
“User.”
“Touche.”
“Now, now, guys,” Sam interrupts, without seeming too concerned. She is used to their public tiffs by now. “This is one of the few evenings we get to spend together, and I’d like to do so without having to blow my referee whistle every two seconds.”
Brian leans over to Caleb and says in a very loud voice. “That’s why you should have left your girlfriend back in the psych ward with her meds.”
Several people turn.
Cassie says to Sam in equally as loud a voice, “Is he still f**king around on you? I hope the penicillin did the trick on clearing up his syphilis.”
More people turn. They wear amazed and mildly disgusted glances.
Sam says, “Now, Cassie, Brian is not f**king around on me. We’re not a couple.”
“Absolutely,” Brian echoes.
“We’re just hanging out.”
“We practically have clothes hangers sticking on our backs.”
Cassie regards Brian with a murderous stare. She says to Sam out of the corner of her mouth, “It’s just that you deserve so much better than this . . . this . . . ”
“Ah, words fail you to describe me,” Brian remarks. “It must be my considerable charm.”
“. . . prick,” Cassie finishes. “He doesn’t even have the decency to set you free instead of manipulating your emotions. That way, you can be rid of him and find a nice, decent guy of your own. Right now, he’s just a millstone around your neck.”
“I’m an independent woman with a mind of my own, and this is not the time and place to be discussing this.” Sam glances meaningfully at the gathering people around them.
“We’d better be going in,” Caleb says. “What are we watching tonight again?”
“Aida, you opera buff.” Cassie digs a finger into his side.
“Ooof. Great. Is that the one set in China?”
“That’s Turandot. Aida is set in ancient Egypt.”
“Cool. I love mummies.”
They all troop in before they can embarrass themselves any further. Brian buys them four programs. Sam hangs on to his arm. She’s practically goggle-eyed, staring at everything and anyone.
“I feel like I’m at an Oscar party,” she whispers.
He whispers back, “I feel like I’m at a colonoscopy.”
“Be nice. Where’s the senator? Do you see her?” She cranes her neck to peer over the heads of the shiny, dressy people.
He knows full well the senator isn’t here. “If we see her, we see her. You can’t miss her. She has a head shaped like a marshmallow.”
They go in for the first act. Brian has gotten them balcony seats, right in the middle – in full view of the stage and the Sensurround caterwauling. In the box seat right across from them on the left, he spies his prey. He allows himself a congratulatory pat. Henry Moody and his wife are seated in their usual box, chatting to each other as the violins begin their concerted screeching.
Brian nudges Sam. “Look over there.”
She looks. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Old Man Moody himself. What a coincidence.” He can see the permutations running in her head.
She swivels to him, her face glowing. “Why . . . you . . . ”
“I didn’t do anything. He’s all yours.”
“Do you think he would let me . . . approach him?”
“There’s only one intermission to find out.”
The opera starts. He can sense Sam’s mounting excitement. She grasps his hand, and he grasps it back.
Their handholding is not lost on Cassie, seated beside Sam. She grimaces. He sticks his tongue out at her.
Who said opera was boring?
*
If Brian didn’t have the program in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to make head or tail out of what’s happening. What he gathers is that Aida is some slave woman who just happens to be an Ethiopian princess, and she is being played by someone really fat. Despite the obvious obesity, she is loved by a really hot, really slim Egyptian commander. Who in turn is loved by the Pharaoh’s nubile daughter, who is thankfully played by someone weighing less than a metric ton.
Seriously, he fears for the stage.
But by Act Two, he is completely absorbed.
Not that he understands the words they are singing, of course, but the drama that unfolds before them is quite compelling. The characters are equally compelling. He doesn’t care much for the lovelorn, passive Aida, but he finds the Pharaoh’s jealous and vengeful daughter, Amneris, who would do anything to get Aida’s hot beau, majorly fascinating.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned indeed.
The lights dim, the audience applauds, and it’s intermission.
“I have never approached a potential client before during an opera,” Sam confesses.
He squeezes her fingers. “He’s getting out of his box. You can do it.”
“You knew he was going to be here, didn’t you? You orchestrated the whole thing,” she accuses.
“Scout’s honor, I didn’t know he was going to be here. It’s a sign from somewhere beyond that ceiling – ” he indicates the chandeliers “ – that you were meant to land this account.”
“Are you going to go or what?” Cassie says from behind him. “I have to go pee.”
Brian grins and gives Sam his arm. “I’m in the Mood. Are you?”
“I’ve got to do this on my own,” she says.
He understands. He kisses her on the forehead. “Go get them, tiger. I’ll be waiting.”
He watches her retreating back as she exits.
“Excuse me before I pee all over your feet,” Cassie says as she elbows him.
“Hey, don’t get your tits in a twist.” He moves away so that Cassie can pass while purposefully treading on his toes.
He bares his teeth at her. She snarls back.
Oooh, he’s got to be careful about this one. He has a feeling she’s going to cause real trouble between Sam and him. Provided Sam and him are actually a couple, of course, which they are not. Even then –
His cellphone vibrates. He eases it out of his pocket and frowns.
It’s his penthouse alarm. It is going off. Barring any glitches, this means someone – impossibly – has broken in.
8
Sam is extremely stoked as she weaves through the superbly-dressed opera crowd to the bar, where Henry Moody and his wife are standing, ordering drinks. Her feet grind to a halt as her nerves suddenly bolt up her spine. She has never, ever done this before. She has never solicited business in this manner.