Antoine Radson strolled down the corridors of the administrative department, trying to project a confidence he didn't quite feel. He realized he was tapping the Manila envelope in his hand against his side, and willed himself to stop. At the doors to the executive office, he stopped. Instinctively he reached for the doorknob, then hesitated, remembering.
With a sign, half of amusement, and half of nostalgia, his hand hovered millimeters above the knob.
Gone were the old days, where he could've just pranced in as if he owned the place. It was something his old boss had let him do, and had proved a difficult habit to break. His current employer maintained different standards. Protocol, etiquette, a certain rigorous adherence to norms.
"Yeah, can't treat me any different 'round here," Antoine muttered to himself before raising his hand and rapping briskly with the back of his knuckles.
"Come in, Antoine," a familiar voice came from inside, muffled slightly by the thick hardwood.
Antoine cracked the door open, feeling surprisingly self-conscious, and peered in.
His boss was sitting behind the desk, a slew of papers strewn out before him, apparently skimming several at once. A leather day planner was open off to the side, a red pen resting across the lined pages.
Preston leaned over, shoulders hunched as he poured over the latest earning prospectus, upcoming end-of-year reports, dry stuff of that nature. His glasses were pushed up on his forehead, brow furrowed in concentration. He didn't bother raising his eyes. "Have a seat," Preston said, gesturing to one of his guest chairs.
"How'd you know it was me?" Antoine asked as he shuffled across the carpeted floor and sat down, trying to look casual.
Preston's eyes flicked up, the hint of a smile playing at the edge of his lips. "I know when it's you."
"A good magician never reveals his tricks?"
Preston jotted some notes down in his day planner. "Something like that." The lean man was clearly not ready to talk quite yet. Antoine drummed his fingertips lightly on the arm of his chair, and let his eyes roam around the room.
True, Antoine knew, he'd been the one who initially decorated the space, removing the traces of their former boss, and creating a space he hoped Preston would like. It seemed though the lean mad had been adding some of his own touches as well as he grew more comfortable.
The Keurig coffee maker, the Bose stereo? Those were creature comforts Preston had added, along with a black and white photo of Quincy Market. The old coat rack had been replaced with a new wardrobe style one, lockable. Antoine knew his boss kept his old viola under close guard in the wardrobe. In times of tension, Preston would instruct his personal assistant to defer his calls, and find a moment to himself; letting his mind drift with the melodies he knew by heart.
Despite the changes, Antoine was glad to see at least several of his touches remained intact. The pieces of decorative driftwood, a stunning photograph taken from inside the curl of a wave, taken at sunset, a drops of a cresting rainbow frozen for all eternity in one perfect second.
Antoine picked at a piece of dust on his polo shirt, debated flicking it on the floor, then reconsidered. The lint went where so many like it had gone: rolled into a tiny ball between his fingers, then shoved into his pocket. The intent was to throw it out later, but the truth was it would wind up forgotten. Antoine's mind was known to wander at times, especially over trivial things like lint.
At long last, Preston looked up, pulling his glasses down over his fave and regarding Antoine with a distracted smile. Preston already knew why Antoine was here.
Antoine tapped his fingertips together against the large envelope. "So... is Rigel around?"
Preston nodded, and tapped an intercom on his phone. "Miss Vought, would you come into my office for a moment, please?"
Rigey Vought, "Riley" to her friends, and Antoine, stepped out of her adjacent office.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
Preston gestured with an immaculately manicured hand towards Antoine. "Yes. I believe Antoine has something for you."
Antoine swallowed then nodded. He reached into the envelope and handed Rigel a simple piece of card stock stationary. No fold or envelope, just a single card slightly larger than a standard photo.
Rigel took it, eyes darting over it as she read. "A formal invite to The Lucky Lady?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "What's the special occasion?"
Antoine gave her his most charming and innocent smile. "Oh, just trying to get the old gang together for dinner and drinks after work. Figured it's been a long time since you said yes, so I wanted to up the presentation, you know?"
Rigel turned the card over in her hand, lips drawn tight. "Mister Radson, you know I appreciate the thought but-"
The phone on Rigel's hip buzzed loudly from its holster. She looked down in surprise, momentarily distracted. Rigel shook her head slightly, regained focus. "My apologies, but as I was saying, I really don't think-"
Her phone buzzed again.
A quick look of annoyance flashed across her face.
Preston, hands tucked under his desk gave a cough. "Why don't you attend to that, Miss Vought. It might be important."
"Yes, sir," she replied, removing the small TorusCom smartphone and entering in her code. Two text messages were waiting. Considering it was her work phone, very few people other than business contacts had the number.
She tapped "open" and read them.
They were both from her boss, sent only seconds ago.
"Miss Vought, go with him," instructed the first one. "Not negotiable," the second one added.
Rigel closed her eyes slowly, hoping Antoine didn't see the look of pure frustration behind them.
"It appears, Antoine, that my schedule's freed up for tonight," she said, resigned. She shoved the phone back into its holster and tucked the card under the cover of her tablet. "I will see you after work then."
Antoine nodded vigorously, blue hair falling about his ears. "Awesome! No, really, I mean it! Great!" He hopped to his feet, nodding and bobbing his head. "I'll see you there then! Don't be late!"
Rigel looked at the time on the card. It was conveniently timed, even factoring in traffic. There was no way she could reasonably manage to be late. None at all.
Rigel had been to The Lucky Lady a few times before. It seemed to be the go-to spot for senior staff to congregate after work, share some drinks and a pizza. Occasionally some one the younger personnel from other departments showed up as well; invitation only for them.
She arrived exactly on time, easily picking out Antoine from the rest of the crowd. He sat at the head of a large table, off to the back of the room. Technically, a table made out of several smaller tables. Most of the faces were already familiar to her, though she couldn't say she knew any of them well.
Personal life and work life were two things Rigel tried to keep separated by as wide a gulf as possible. A friendly level of professionalism at the plant was fine, but carousing and drinks with fellow staff? It wasn't her first choice for a good time.
Fortunately, everyone was friendly enough, and relatively low key. No crazy partiers or heavy drinkers in this crowd.
Rigel made her way through the pleasantly dim western-themed bar and sat down at the table. There were several people she didn't know, and a handful she'd met before. Gary from Engineering, Sharon from Infrastructure, those were two leads she knew. There was a woman she'd seen in accounting. Julie? Judy?
Ruby! Rigel decided. That was her name.
A handful of Antoine's lackeys sat off to his side, Stewart and DeLaney, a woman she didn't recognize. She ordered a drink and was about to ask the server for a menu when two others arrived, each carrying a large pizza.
Antoine grinned and pointed to them. "Hey, perfect timing, Riley! That one there's half-supreme, half veggie. The other one is half meat lover, and half Hawaiian. Because pineapple does go on pizza, and I don't care what anyone else might say about that."
Laney made a face.
Antoine prodded him in the shoulder. "I'm buying, so I'm choosing. You wanna pick up the next round, get whatever you want... as long as we all agree on it."
He grabbed several slices, plopped them on his plate, then leaned forward, apparently doing a quick head count. Rigel could see Antoine's lips moving as he tallied them up.
After a minute, he leaned back in his chair. "Okay, great! So it looks like were all here, minus one but he's always late anyhow." He pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'm guessing why I invited you all here today? Well, there's something I want to share with each of you."
Antoine hauled his backpack out from under his chair, wiped his hands on his napkin, and reached inside. "I've got one of these for each of you," he explained, as he pulled out handful of square, cream-colored envelopes and began to circle the table, passing them out by name.
Laney immediately started to open it, but Antoine shook his head. "No. I should've said that first. Open 'em at home, not here."
"Why? What's in them?" Laney asked.
Antoine continued to distribute out the remaining envelopes. "Something you'll find out when you get home," Antoine replied firmly as he returned to his seat and slid his backpack down next to his chair.
His eyes lit up.
Rigel followed his gaze across the room. Her boss, technically their boss. Preston Tucci was standing near the front of the room, his oilcloth duster and Prussian blue scarf still powdered with snow. "Hang on," Antoine said. "You guys dig in, I'll be right back."
With that, he got up and, side stepping between tables and servers made his way over to Preston.
Rigel watched as the two men stepped off to the side, heads down conspiratorially. A few seconds later Preston followed Antoine outside She turned the envelope over and with a roll of her eyes picked a butter knife off the table.
Carefully, she slipped it under the envelope flap like a letter opener and proceeded to cut it open
"Hey," Gary admonished, his tone hushed yet horrified. "He said not to open those here!"
Rigel met his eyes defiantly. "I don't take orders from Antoine," she replied curtly. With that, she reached inside and removed a folded card. The cover was simple, unadorned save for seven words:
Save the date! We've waited long enough!
Rigel drew a hand to her mouth, covering a gasp of shock as she opened it. She read the inside, then reread it to make sure she hadn't missed anything. It was hard to mistake the message. There was a photo printed in pastel ink, two figures Rigel knew without introduction. Preston sat behind Antoine, his arms around the other man's neck. Neither of them were looking at the camera, merely holding each other tenderly, eyes closed.
Preston and Antoine invite you to share in the joy of their wedding day, a date, an RSVP email, and the location. Cape Cod, Massachusetts.
Her stunned expression prompted a flurry of questions.
"Rigel, what happened?"
"Is it a bonus?"
"Is it a pink slip? Please don't say it's a pink slip."
"Oh jeeze, Stewart, he can't fire us! Use your head.
Rigel looked in annoyance. "Just open it before he gets back!"
No one moved, glancing at each other nervously, waiting for someone else to go first. Gary shifted his weight uncomfortably in his chair. Laney and Steward exchanged awkward looks. Ruby looked away. "We really shouldn't," she mumbled apologetically as she opened her envelope and withdrew the card.
Quickly, stealthily, everyone followed suit. "In for a penny, in for a pound," Gary relented, tearing the flap up with a quick flip.
No one spoke as they read. Rigel sat back feeling a small measure of satisfaction, watching expressions shift from puzzlement to surprise, to something else altogether.
Sharon tucked her card into her jacket pocket, face surprisingly blasé. "Well, that was certainly unexpected." Her eyes focused on movement by the bar. She reached over and gave Stewart a light smack with the back of her hand. "Put that away, he's coming back."
Antoine padded over to the table, Preston at his side. As he approached the table, his grin faded slightly. "Hey, what's with those looks? You guys are all... oh."
His eyes flicked to the empty envelope by Stewart's plate. "Et tu, Stewart?"
The young man's cheeks reddened. He made a hasty grab for the envelope, though it was far too late. "I... uh..."
"We all did," confessed Ruby.
Antoine dropped into his chair, as Preston settled in to the empty one beside him. Antoine rubbed his neck and looked at the group. "Guys, seriously? You read 'em? You had one thing not to do..."
Preston cleared his throat, as he untied his scarf. "It's not that big a concern. We just didn't want to put anyone on the spot. The 'open it at home' bit was for your comfort, not ours."
Rigel looked into the face of her boss, then of the blue-haired man sitting at his side. She raised her water glass. "Well, Sir, I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say how unexpected and honored we are by this. Mister Tucci, Antoine, congratulations and best wishes for a long and happy marriage!"
"Hear, here," Gary chimed in, raising his own glass.
A chorus of well-wishes followed; and the ice that had frozen conversation shattered.
"So, I guess we all want to know: how long?" Sharon asked, propping an elbow on the table. "I never would've guessed from that one over there," she gestured to Antoine with her fork. "He's so quiet about his private life. Everything's all projects with him!"
Laughing, blushing, Preston and Antoine found themselves the center of attention. "I wanted to keep this a normal dinner!" Antoine protested over a second slice of pizza. "You seriously couldn't have waited till you got home?"
Stewart pointed across the table with his fork. "Well, someone decided to open it... and then we all did." He gave Antoine a casual shrug. "No offense, but you work with us and you really thought we wouldn't want to know now?"
Antoine's face creased in a smile. "Actually, Stewart, I figured if anybody decided to open theirs now, it would've been you. You or Laney."
"Me? Why!?"
"Because I work with you guys. I know you." Antoine replied, amused. "Okay, well, lesson learned for me, right? Next time I'll hand these things out at the end of the meal."
Preston raised his eyebrows. "Next time?"
"Awww, not that there'll be one, of course," Antoine replied, blushing unexpectedly. "Just being hypothetical, you know."
Preston laughed and gave Antoine's shoulder a squeeze.
"So," Gary asked from across the table. "I guess I've got to ask: who proposed to who?"
Antoine turned a deeper shade of red, if that was even possible.
Preston pulled his fiancé closer and turned towards Gary. "Well, if his face alone already wasn't answering your question, it was this guy right here: Antoine. This big deck ape popped the question one day, and well, I couldn't refuse!"
"We were originally thinking about Florida next spring-" Antoine began.
"-But Cape Cod's closer, and considering the work schedules of our honored guests, less travel time," Preston finished.
And so the evening progressed, a delightful blur of laughter and questions, Antoine blushing more than he probably ever had in his life, and Preston appearing to take immense delight in his beloved's suddenly bashful turn. Time melted away, and Rigel found herself slipping contentedly away with it.
Rigel "Riley" Vought waited for the light to change before crossing the street to the bus stop, the invitation still nestled deep in her purse. The evening definitely changed her perception of the dynamic between Preston and Antoine. It answered some questions, and raised others.
How long had this been going on? Had they been partners(?), boyfriends(?) even back when she'd travelled with them to Springfield for the first time, shortly after she'd started her job?
That would explain why Antoine had been so damned protective of her boss all these years; and his initial suspicion of her as an administrative spy.
She still couldn't fully believe it though. Though she knew her boss was clearly gay, Antoine seemed so far and away the type of person Preston would go for. She always imagined he would have a certain type... a type that was not Antoine.
Rigel found herself considering her own upbringing as she boarded the express bus for her apartment across town. She was unquestionably not the poster child of someone raised in a hippy commune.
Perhaps, she mused as she watched the downtown cityscape scroll past, no one ever truly knows what the future will bring. Regardless, she knew one thing: the deep affection between her boss and Antoine was clearly evident for all to see that night. She genuinely wished them nothing but the best; and wondered a bit distracted if this meant she'd be shelving Mister Tucci's "beard file" from here on.
They'd look good together, she concluded. Going to events and all? Yes. They'd make a particularly fashionable pair.