Chapter 14

She had barely escaped. Just barely.

After getting over the initial shock of seeing Bobby standing with the rest of the stewards in the office, and reminding herself to stay calm, the evening had progressed smoothly.

Bobby had fit in very well with the 15 other stewards. James, her steward captain for the evening, and Shawn, her best sommelier, were quickly bringing him up to speed on the far side of the room when she saw him there.

What the hell was he doing here? Who had called him to fill in? There were plenty of other perfectly capable stewards in her employ, so why Bobby? Her temper flaring, she began to march her way across the room in demand of an explanation, when Samantha's gentle hand on her shoulder had her spinning around.

"What," she hissed angrily, causing those around her to stare in her direction. They had seen Amy upset and anxious before previous events, but never like this.

Samantha stepped close and quickly whispered into Amy's ear just why Bobby was there. Still ticked that Samantha and Trey had asked him to step in and help, and bothered that he had agreed, she nodded in understanding and took a deep breath. She forced herself to move much slower across the room towards Bobby.

Shawn noticed Bobby had quit paying attention to her explanation of the red wine being served with the main course, followed his line of sight, and realized the source of his distraction.

"Oh, wow, Miss Amy! You look stunning," the sommelier gushed. Shawn had been with the winery almost since its inception; her opinions and input were invaluable to Amy.

Amy blushed and looked down at her gown then back at her dear friend Shawn. "Thanks. I didn't want anything too fancy or stuffy in case I get pressed into service tonight."

"I hope you don't have to," Shawn replied. "Do you want to be wired up anyway?"

Several years ago, the team had taken to using discrete ear pieces and small mics clipped to their wrists to facilitate communication between those out on the floor serving and those back in the preparation area. Amy debated with herself for a moment before deciding against it. "No, I think I'll just try to relax and trust you, Samantha and James to run everything smoothly for me."

"Okay," Shawn said with a smile. "By the way, Bobby here has the potential to be a top-notch wine steward. He's already quite familiar with the wines in our label and is a quick study for tonight."

Amy looked at Bobby fondly and smiled softly at him. "Good. You'll need to be quick. Do you understand exactly how we like to serve a table?"

Bobby recited back what Shawn and James had taught him, then said he would be cramming in the van with them on the way over. He seemed pleased to be able to help, and eager to make a good impression, which secretly tickled Amy. What really bothered Amy though, was how stunningly handsome he looked in his tuxedo.

"I see Bernard was able to get you taken care of today," she said, indicating his tuxedo with a small wave of her hand.

Bobby stepped back, held his arms slightly out to the side and made a slow turn for her inspection. Coming back around to face her, he grinned broadly at her. "Well, do I pass muster, Miss Amy?"
And how, she thought, her insides all aflutter the longer she looked at him. "You'll do," she said.

She moved to the center of the room, clapped her hands and got everyone's attention. Several of the other men whistled at her, causing her to blush and point at them good-naturedly. She launched into her usual pre-event speech, thanking everyone for being willing to work, reminding them of the layout, where they would enter and how they were to join with the other stewards from the Garden to sweep the room. Each steward would work three tables of 10. They would be able to eat before the dinner, but were reminded to refrain from drinking the wine, to everyone's laughter.

As the stewards filed out of the room to go to the van, Bobby strategically positioned himself to be one of the last to leave the room. He stopped in front of her, his face expressionless, and studied her. Amy wondered what he was thinking.

"You look stunning," he told her softly.

She blushed.

"Thank you; so do you," she responded, her voice equally low.

"Nervous?"

"Does it show?"

Bobby smiled at her then, and reached out and gently pulled apart her tightly clinched hands. He wrapped each of his hands around hers and shook her arms gently. He chuckled softly.

"Relax, it'll be fine."

"Are you sure," Amy asked quietly. "There's so much to do, so much to remember." She started to move her arms agitatedly, but Bobby stopped her and gently kept her arms down. He stepped towards her, closing the distance between them slightly.

"Amy," he chided her gently. "It will be fine. You've worked too hard for things to go wrong now. Don't worry." He smiled at her with that lopsided grin she loved so much. She found his low, soft voice soothing and she began to relax visibly. She smiled back at him, in spite of herself.

"That's what I like to see. How will you be getting to the Garden," he asked her next.

"Separate car," she said with a scowl. "I'm one of Christopher's special guests, so I have to do the whole red carpet walk and pose for pictures. I'd much rather be in the van and avoid all that other mess, but…" Her voice trailed off and she shrugged. "The downside of being me."

"Would you like me to go with you," Bobby asked, his head tilted to one side. Her heart always did a little flip-flop when he did that, and it did so again this time.

Amy sighed softly. "That's so sweet of you to offer, but no. Christopher's brother Daniel and his wife Desi and I have already planned to meet up and run the gauntlet together. I'm used to doing the carpet alone or with friends. I'll be fine." She smiled at him softly.

"Are you sure," Bobby inquired, his eyebrows raised.

"I'm sure," she nodded.

Samantha softly cleared her throat to get their attention. "Bobby, we need to go."

Bobby leaned forward slightly and kissed Amy softly on the forehead. He squeezed her hands comfortingly one last time and released them; he turned smartly on his heel and followed Samantha to the van.

The next morning, Amy was sitting at her kitchen table, wrapped in her favorite tattered pink terry robe and reading the same gossip column Ross had been reading. She sipped her coffee and read further:

And step in he did! Detective Goren did a fabulous job serving wine and charming everyone at the tables he served, including me. If Mr. Goren wants to quit his day job and become a full-time wine steward, he can fill my wine glass anytime!

Amy snorted and rolled her eyes. Taking another sip of her coffee, her mind flashed back on the image of the very married Charlie Grace flirting outrageously with a very amused Bobby. He had caught her watching and had winked conspiratorially at her.

Later, he had paused by her and spoken softly into her ear as he topped off her wine glass, "Relax, she's harmless."

He had squeezed her shoulder gently as he moved away.

Somehow, Bobby had managed to wrangle his way into serving as the steward for her table, which was the head table, and the two tables on either side. Those three tables were traditionally served by the head steward. She was reassured when she saw James, the evening's head steward, servicing three nearby tables.

She returned to reading the newspaper.

By far, the highlight of the evening for me was the birthday surprise Christopher had planned for Trevor. The most incredible six-tiered, elaborately decorated chocolate cake was pushed out onto the dance floor by none other than Marilyn Monroe!

To the delight of all present, Miss Monroe serenaded Trevor with her signature version of "Happy Birthday". Then, in a surprise encore performance, Marilyn brought a tall stool out into the middle of the floor, seated Trevor on it, and launched into a delightfully raunchy tune entitled, "Satisfy Me One More Time," an embarrassingly funny number during which Miss Monroe danced, caressed and teased Trevor mercilessly. It was a fun way to celebrate a birthday.

Amy began to hear the song play in her head as she kept reading.

It did not go unnoticed by me that our wine hostess for the evening, Ms. Amy Wainwright was missing from that part of the evening. Her vacant chair caused me to realize that Ms. Wainwright had been missing from events before whenever Marilyn Monroe would make an appearance. So I wonder, was she back in the kitchen, handling an emergency? Or is there more to Marilyn Monroe and Amy Wainwright than meets the eye?

Amy stopped reading at that point and sighed; she got up from the table, placed her coffee cup in the sink, and went upstairs. As she showered and dressed for the office, her thoughts drifted back to the prior evening.

She had noticed Bobby watching her from the side of the ballroom. The staff had been told there was to be no table service during Trevor's birthday surprise, so that the 500 people in attendance could enjoy the performance.

Shawn had kept the wine stewards out of the kitchen after she spotted Amy/Marilyn enter from the hallway. She was grateful not to have confronted Bobby before going out onto the dance floor. Simply knowing he was watching her and studying her closely had been so unnerving it had taken every ounce of her mental strength to stay focused on Trevor.

When she launched into "Satisfy Me One More Time," with all its gyrations and hand motions, Trevor's laughter and the crowd's obvious enjoyment had combined to encourage her and she fully let go, getting into both the character and the song. She had vamped it up like she never had before.

When the song concluded and the crowded roared and applauded its appreciation, a very breathless Marilyn Monroe blushed and bowed to the crowd. She took Trevor by the arm, posing for pictures and assisting him in cutting the cake. Thankfully, several of the wait staff for the evening appeared to take over the cake cutting and serving duties. She whispered frantically in Trevor's ear that she needed him to quickly escort her back to the kitchen door.

The wine stewards were approaching the kitchen door at the same time as Amy and Trevor. Amy stood next to Trevor, gripping his arm tightly and trying desperately to remain in character as they passed her on their way back into the kitchen. They were to serve a special bubbly red dessert wine known as Banfi Rosa Regale, and needed to quickly get the bottles and return to the floor to serve.

Several of the staff smiled and complimented her on her performance as they passed into the kitchen. Bobby stopped in front of them and studied her eyes carefully. She drew on every ounce of Marilyn's character left in her as he looked at her.

"I, uh, I," he stammered uncertainly.

"Yes," she gushed breathlessly at him, trying to move her body slightly like Marilyn would have. "Did you want to tell me something?" She widened her eyes and tried to look innocent.

This threw him slightly off guard and she noticed his ears redden slightly. He's blushing, she thought delightedly. Oh, this is good.

"I, uh, you were very good out there tonight," he finally said softly.

"Thank you. I just love singing for my friends," she looked at Trevor and beamed. "And Trevor is one of my dearest friends. Aren't you, Trevor?" She squeezed his arm and gushed effusively, brushing against him.

Trevor smiled back at her then turned his attention on Bobby, who was still staring at her, unable to move.

"Aren't you supposed to go in there," Amy/Marilyn said, pointing towards the kitchen.

"Oh, uh, yes. Yes I am." Bobby cleared his throat and shook his head slightly and went into the kitchen.

Amy had followed, still on Trevor's arm. She had quickly begged him to escort her all the way to the back of the kitchen. He had said nothing, but raised his eyebrows knowingly at Amy and moved his head subtly in Bobby's direction. Amy had blushed, causing Trevor to laugh delightedly. He squeezed her arm and willingly escorted her all the way through the kitchen to the back door.

She practically ran down the hall to the room Samantha had commandeered for her to change in. Shutting the door, she leaned back against it and tried desperately to catch her breath.

She had barely escaped. Just barely.

****************************

Bobby was also reading the same gossip column. Those who knew him well would be thoroughly surprised to know that he was reading the Lifestyle section of the New York Times, having heard him scoff over gossip columns before. That was before he became reacquainted with Amy Wainwright. That was before last night, when renowned "Society Columnist" (her term) Charlie Grace had told him that she would be writing about him in her column that night. She had squeezed his arm and reassured him that it would all be good.

And it was good. He, too, had rolled his eyes at her comment that "he [could] fill my wine glass anytime." He even chuckled at her descriptions of some of the guests in attendance.

But it was in reading the part about the appearance of 'Marilyn Monroe' and her performance, along with the pictures of the guests, including one of Amy outside on the red carpet and several of 'Marilyn' as she performed for Trevor and assisted him in cutting the cake that returned his thoughts to the evening before. He studied the photographs carefully as he remembered……..

Bobby had looked up from the wine list as soon as he heard her harsh, hissed word to Samantha. He took in her body language as she listened to Samantha, saw her forcefully compose herself, and watched her carefully as she turned back around. He could tell he was the source of her irritation and hoped it would dissipate quickly.

He soon found himself gawking at her, unable to breathe, as she glided across the room in his direction. She was wearing the most incredible silvery-metallic creation he had ever seen on a woman's body. Beads and sequins made a diamond-shaped, sun-burst like design across the middle of the gown. The top point of the diamond started at the bottom of the vee of the neckline; the sides of the diamond pattern pulled her waist in visually and gathered the fabric towards the lower middle back of the dress. The straps were modest, but not overly so. The floor length gown shimmered and moved as she walked towards him. Slinky was the word that immediately popped into his mind.

When a long length of very shapely leg suddenly appeared out of a slit that went up the side of the gown to the bottom of her left hip, two thoughts crossed simultaneously through Bobby's head. The first was that he was going to die, she was so beautiful. The second was that there was no way in hell she was going to the gala dressed in that.

Shawn noticed Bobby had quit paying attention to her explanation of the red wine being served with the main course, followed his line of sight and realized the source of his distraction.

"Oh, wow, Miss Amy! You look stunning," the sommelier gushed.

Amy blushed and looked down at her gown then back at her dear friend Shawn. "Thanks. I didn't want anything too fancy or stuffy in case I get pressed into service tonight."

If that isn't too fancy or stuffy, Bobby wondered silently. He swallowed hard. I'd hate to see her definition of fancy and stuffy.

Amy had complimented him on his tuxedo. He smiled as he remembered giving her a long slow turn to show her. He had enjoyed seeing her giving him the once over from head to toe; it had stirred in him feelings and emotions long forgotten, but very welcome. He was grateful that he had been able to reassure her and calm her down before they all left.

It was quite interesting to see her 'in her element' during dinner. She was gracious and charming to everyone. She held her own on a variety of topics during dinner. There had been a brief look of annoyance and concern when he appeared at their table and introduced himself as their wine steward for the evening. He had seen her glance over to James, and had caught his nod and reassuring smile. He had worked extra hard to do a good job for her and her friends. He knew her concern and worry over the success of the evening, and was pleased that he could help her out and be a part of it.

He had been very impressed by her. Amy had been as impressive as Charlie Grace had been annoying and amusing. He had found it quite humorous and even a little flattering that Mrs. Grace had been flirting with him so outrageously. After noting her husband's amusement and even pleasure with his wife enjoying herself, and noticing how her most special looks, touches, and glances were reserved for him, Bobby had realized that she was harmless and had relaxed and even flirted with her. He had spotted Amy's disapproving looks in his direction when this occurred. The Grace's were seated at the table next to Amy's, so as soon as he could, Bobby had returned to Amy. As he topped off her glass of wine he had spoken softly into her ear, "Relax, she's harmless." He had then squeezed her shoulder gently as he moved away.

He had never been to an event quite as formal as that one. The Policeman's Ball was a fancy dress occasion, to be sure, but he was quite certain there were never as many designer gowns, shoes, and handbags as he had seen last night. He had never seen so much expensive jewelry outside of a jewelry store. Everyone there was either rich, famous, or both. It was both humbling and flattering to be a part of such an occasion.

He had run into Bobby Flay back in the kitchen and had an opportunity to meet the man and visit with him about cooking and wine. He even put in a good word for the Wainwright label and was pleased that Flay was very satisfied with the results of the pairings. Bobby made note of that and was planning to mention it to Amy as soon as he could as he knew it would please her greatly.

When Shawn and James had ushered all the stewards and wait staff out of the kitchen, instructing them to line up unobtrusively around the edges of the room, his curiosity was piqued. James had merely said there was to be a birthday surprise for Mr. Trevor and that they needed to clear the area so it could be prepared.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of a Marilyn Monroe impersonator pushing that rather large, and almost gaudy (in his opinion), chocolate cake out onto the dance floor. As 'she' had sung a spot on version of Marilyn's famously breathless "Happy Birthday" to the honoree, Bobby had realized that the impersonator was not a man, as he had originally thought, but a woman.

As he continued to study the performer, his brain was busy recalling everything he knew about the blonde bombshell. He had been quite enamored of her in his teens, watching every one of her movies with his mom and reading and learning all he could about her. He had even wished on more than one occasion that he had been older, so that maybe, just maybe, he could have met her and fallen in love with her. Maybe even married her like one of his baseball heroes, Joe DiMaggio, had done.

He had recalled Ms. Monroe's height and weight, hair color and eye color and found himself, out of habit, comparing them to the performer in front of him. He had positioned himself at the end of the line as they had filed out of the kitchen, and therefore was fairly close to the dance floor, with an unobstructed view of the whole affair.

Whoever she was, she was slightly taller than Marilyn, and not quite as buxom, although you'd be hard pressed to know it for sure, the way the sparkly white gown she was wearing had been constructed. The hair and makeup were spot on. Bobby thought it had to be a wig, but from his vantage point, he couldn't be for sure. As he continued to study her carefully, something began to bug him in the back of his mind. It was the way the woman was dancing and moving, as though he had seen her dance and move like that before. But he couldn't have; he would have known for sure who it was underneath that getup if he had. Nevertheless, it bugged him and niggled in the back of his mind like a pesky fly that wouldn't quit buzzing and banging itself into the window.

When the singer had launched into that embarrassingly raunchy number, his eyebrows rose. "Satisfy Me One More Time" was one of the lesser known songs that had been recorded in 1974 by Frank Sinatra out in Hollywood, he recalled. It was a very silly song, and she was singing the hell out of it, shimmying, touching herself and Trevor, pointing to some of the audience closest to them, and vamping like crazy. The more he watched, the more that fly of a memory kept buzzing. Louder and louder it buzzed, banging itself over and over against the window of his mind.

As the song ended and the appreciative crowd roared and applauded, he stood, frozen, as he seemed to lock eyes with the woman on the floor. The eyes; those blue eyes. Those sea blue eyes. Marilyn Monroe's eyes weren't sea blue, his memory screamed at him. They were more of a blue grey. But Amy; Amy's eyes were sea blue. Bobby hastily cast a glance in her direction; she was gone. When had she left the room, he wondered. He had seen her excuse herself from the table and watched her as she stopped and visited with several of the guests at a nearby table, but he hadn't seen her leave the ballroom.

When the performance was over and the cake was cut, Shawn and James began to move them back into the kitchen. They were to grab bottles of the special wine requested to go with the cake and began serving them to their tables. The wait staff was moving out onto the floor to finish cutting the cake, putting slices onto plates and passing them out to other servers to take to the guests.

Bobby had strategically stepped out of the line, allowing the others to go ahead of him while he held open the door to the kitchen. While they all assumed he was simply being gracious and thanked him for holding the door open for them, he had an ulterior motive: to get up close and personal with that Marilyn Monroe.

She came towards him on the arm of Trevor Wilson, paramour of Christopher Mellon and famous movie star. She took his breath away and stupefied him. He had stammered out a compliment and smiled shyly at her. He had felt his ears grow hot as she gushed and smiled at him and at Trevor. If he hadn't known Marilyn Monroe had been dead for years, he would have sworn she really was standing in front of him; he was smitten. She was so good as Marilyn that he was more confused than ever as to her true identity. He had forcefully swatted away that niggling, buzzing memory of blue eyes and déjà vu and had forced himself to move into the kitchen and return to his duties as a wine steward.

His thoughts returned to the present when he absentmindedly took a sip of coffee, only to find he was holding a now empty mug. Sighing, he put down the paper, rose from the table and refilled his coffee mug. Checking the time on the oven door, he remembered he had promised Trey that he would check on him and Hudson later that morning, plus he really needed to go to the store as well as finish cleaning the shower. He decided he'd better do that first, so he could take a shower. Sighing again, he moved off down the hall towards the bathroom, his thoughts still churning over the events of the night before.

**********

The young man carefully spread the Lifestyle section of The New York Times newspaper out on his kitchen table. Next, he removed all the pages except for the ones with Charlie Grace's column and the pictures from the Mellon gala. Then, he took a pair of scissors and carefully cut the pages apart.

He liked to laminate newspaper articles, as they lasted longer that way. While he waited for his laminator to heat up, he carefully cut apart the column and the pictures and meticulously arranged them between the sheets of laminate. He would pause to study his layouts. They had to be just right before he would put them into the machine.

Afterwards, when they were cool and hard, he carefully punched holes down the left hand side of each sheet. Then he carefully inserted the sheets into a large, blue, 3-ring binder. Next, he closed the rings and then flipped back to the beginning of the binder.

He spent the rest of his morning looking at its contents and contemplating what his next move would be.

******************************

Words to "Satisfy Me One More Time", written by F. Huddleston

Don't deny me, satisfy me one more time,
Barricade me and invade me, just one more time.
Sacrifice me, don't be nice, be wild and free.
Make a sex-pot symbol out of little old me,
Caress me, molest me, one more time,
Excuse me and abuse me one more time.
Excite me and ignite me with your sweet torso.
Use your muscles, my corpuscles, wanna go.
Assault me, attack me, lose control.
Let's smother each other in a good old strangle-hold.
There's nothing but loving on my mind.
Don't deny me, satisfy me one more time.
Compromise me, vandalize me, have a ball,
Destroy me and restore me through it all.
Demolish, disassemble and dismantle all my doubts,
It's confusing, I don't know my whereabouts.
Bite my ears, baby, nibble on my nose
Let your dimples put those pimples on my toes.
There's sugar oozing over from my elbows to my knees,
So cover me with kisses, get yourself some calories,
If you don't want me climbing up the wall,
Don't fool around my fertile ground at all.
While the cold is getting colder, just be sure,
Everything's up in my body's temperature, jack it up.
They're still a lot of groovy good things on the shelf,
When you reach the cookie jar, just help yourself,
Saying nothing, but the loving on my mind.
Don't deny me, satisfy me one more time.
Encore, encore, encore.