The noise level rose as more people came to examine the event stage. Many perched on the stone balustrade that separated the fountain area (where Jane's black cloth-covered tables lay) from the gardens beyond. The crazy gender-reveal setup game or event or atrocity—whatever it was—awaited just beyond their reach.
"Are you worming your way into my territory?" Edgar asked as he walked over to Lizabeth's free side. He wasn't looking at her; his eyes were on Ryan on her other side.
"I have not employed such tactics," Ryan remarked, turning his chair to face Ed. Lizabeth stepped forward to kiss her boyfriend, but he stopped short.
"I apologize. I didn't realize that you were…" he didn't greet Lizabeth but stared at Ryan Fitzwilliam in his wheelchair. He finally turned back to her. "I've arrived. A whole day of work. Just got away, ready for the fun?" His arm slipped around hers, and he pulled her away from her companion of the past few hours.
She turned her head. "Bye, Ryan. Great talking with you."
"See you around, Lizabeth," he called after her as they disappeared into the crowds.
"I think I met her last night," said a voice. A hand was laid on Ryan's arm. He looked up to see Caroline Bingley looking blond and elegant and professional.
"Name's Lizabeth. Not sure I like the guy," said Ryan.
"I didn't see him last night, but then men aren't allowed in women's restrooms," she quipped.
"How are you, Caroline?" he asked, turning his chair a little.
"Bored. Having kids is not on any list of mine."
"Why come?" he quipped, staring at her perfect face.
"It's my job," she answered, removing her hand and going to sit on the stone balustrade. She was more on an eye level with him then.
"Does Will have you scouting locations again?" Ryan asked.
"Yes, but on the sly. He's not here tonight in his executive producer role, just as a friend of the Metcalfes."
"Did he bring that actor with him too? How is he explaining bringing an entourage with him?"
"You know William; he just BSs his way through life. Told Troy that as long as he was to come for the shower, or whatever this is officially being called, he should visit family. He's trying to pass off Amanda as his current girlfriend."
"I thought you were his plus one," Ryan commented.
"Officially, I am. But we've got Charles and Amanda in tow tonight as well. Not that I think it matters with so many people, what would two more matter?" Caroline shrugged her shoulders. "If you're a good enough event planner, you allow for such eventualities. Besides, people are so smitten with actors—and there's even got to be some who've seen Charles in his last rom-com and think he's a celebrity."
"Is CinemaReady a step-up from a cable series?"
"It isn't Hollywood. I'm under no illusions that we're the elite. There're still lines of distinction in LA. It's way better than some design-your-own YouTube dramas, though some of those are getting better. People like to craft stories and display themselves, no matter what the medium," Caroline explained.
"We like to be fed stories even if they're well-nigh impossible to achieve or live or even dream," said Ryan, who unlocked his wheels.
"How's it going for you?" she asked.
"Life as a disability activist is always tough," he croaked and pushed himself away. He left her sitting on the cold stone fence as his cousin was at the tables. He had a blond on his arm, of course, and his actor friend, Charles Lee, in tow.
"But your ball says 'Pink' so you have to wear pink," he heard the event planner insisting. Ryan thought she was lovely. Not in the artificial way of the actress who clung to Will's arm—skinny body, big boobs, and a big head. And her hair was a lion's mane, untamed; she looked distant. Ryan thought Charles Lee agreed with him that the petite and smartly dressed event planner was beautiful. The actor had a tilt to his head as he stared at the scene before him, watching, rather than participating. That had to be unusual for an actor.
"I won't wear pink," insisted his cousin, Will, who thrust the paper back at the woman. "Amanda, what'd you get?"
The actress carefully opened the plastic ball with awkward motions as she tried to avoid ruining her manicure. "Pink," she declared once she unfolded her paper.
"Damn," said William. "Charles?" There was a small group around them, probably because there were whispers of celebrities being in the crowd.
Charles shook his head as he had been staring at the event planner and not listening. "What?"
"What color do you have?" Will asked.
"Let me see." He cracked open his sphere. "Blue."
"Switch with me," said William, thrusting his be-damned 'Pink' paper at his friend and colleague.
"Alright," Charles agreed.
"That means we won't be on the same team!" Amanda pouted.
"Deal with it," said his cousin. The appropriate colored lanyards were dutifully distributed.
"I'm pink," Ryan declared as he pushed forward. People parted to make room for him.
"Hey Ryan," said William, who didn't look ashamed in the least. "You can carry off wearing pink since you've been to hell and back."
"Must you always refer to my service as if it's the only thing which defines me?" Ryan grumbled.
"Sorry," said his cousin sounding genuine and not Hollywood. "I've always thought that we should do a show about your time overseas."
"I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it to that extent," Ryan asserted, his face expressionless.
"I just really wanted to be on your team!" cried Amanda in a whiny voice. "What am I going to do without you!" She came up and grabbed William by the arm, petting him on the shoulder. "William…William."
He huffed, "enough, Mandy, you're overacting," then added under his breath, "as usual."
The actress dropped his arm and let hers hang down. "I wonder where Caroline is?" she said in a perfectly normal tone of voice.
"Waiting for the festivities to start," said Ryan. "I left her at the entrance to the garden." Amanda walked away.
"Charles, are you coming?" William asked. His friend stared at the event planner as she passed out the last of the colored lanyards to the late arrivals. That giant bowl of plastic balls was down to a dozen. "Charles?" William prompted. He walked over to his friend (and the lead actor in most of his productions).
"I think I'm in love," said Charles.
William glanced with more perception at the event planner. She was short, trim, and had a nice body with unusual reddish-gold hair and beautiful doe-like eyes. The producer in him looked her over critically. He thought that she was beautiful, was photogenic, but that the motion picture camera wouldn't like her. It was why so many models didn't make the shift to acting. There was a difference between people who did well posing for still photographs and people who did well once the film moved.
Not that there was anything to say against her—so he attacked his friend. "You fall in and out of love every month, Charles."
"No, let me restate that," said Charles. "I think that is the type of woman I want to love me."
That statement took William by surprise; he looked a little more closely at his friend because it wasn't a sentiment Charles had ever expressed. William said, "I don't understand the difference. You love her, or she loves you."
"No," said Charles, who still observed his object of interest with almost a detached air. "I think she is the type of woman whose love you would sell your soul for, and then spend the rest of your life trying to mortgage it back, just to pay the interest." He sighed.
"Well, that's not original." He made a sound that was half scoff, half laugh. "I've never known you to write, so I can only assume you borrowed that from a play or manuscript."
"Of course it's not original," Charles laughed, finally coming out of his reverie. "Actors are rarely writers. If you allowed us to write dialogue for love scenes, we'd write such gripping lines as 'I love you, I love you, I love you.' The audience would laugh, tune out, and leave. You wouldn't make a single dime. That's why there's a need for producers and directors and writers…and actors." He finally tore his eyes away from the event planner as she was putting away all the things on her table. Charles stared at William. "Have fun on Team Blue."
William quipped, "yes, but your newest soulmate is on neither."
Charles followed behind his friend happily. William walked to where the event was supposed to be unveiled. He found Amanda and Caroline cozied up together on the stone balustrade. He was used to having an entourage; it was part of being a producer in LA.
Music began to play. There were speakers built into the balustrade and the planters. It was attention-grabbing and uplifting, like the music you would hear at Disneyland or before players were announced at a sports game.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming to the Metcalfe's Big Reveal!" boomed a voice as the music softened. It was well staged, and he admired how it got everyone's attention.
"Please make your way to the top of the garden area if you wish to be part of the Big Reveal," said that amplified voice. "This is an immersive event, and we need everyone's help. You all need to participate. No holding back, please. Have fun!" He could imagine the event-planner as she corralled the guests towards the starting area.
"Now, please understand that though there are two teams, Team Blue and Team Pink, and the point is to have fun with celebrating the new Metcalfe baby, because there will be a winner, it does not mean that the baby in Mimi's belly is going to change its sex to accommodate the winning team!" There were catcalls, whoops, and a lot of laughter at this disclaimer.
More people crowded in against the long stone fence that separated one section of the garden from the other. William could see that the area which might be described as the garden proper (with plantings and trees), had boxes and ladders—even car tires—laid around it. The noise level increased as the crowd became denser. He didn't pay attention to his entourage but watched as black-clad workers by the dozens began to swarm into the garden area to set up devices by hooking ropes to poles, and tilting pieces of wood to lean precariously against other objects. His mind whirled as he watched what looked like a giant mouse maze with various traps being set up.
"Please split into your two teams and elect a captain," called out the ever-cheerful event planner.
There was some stepping on toes, and bumping shoulders as the two teams split. It helped that the lanyards were distinctive. It also helped that two black-clad helpers stood on the stone fence and held up a large sheet of cardboard with the appropriate color painted on it, so there wasn't any grumbling about which direction to go.
William had to leave his friends behind as all but Caroline were Team Pink. She walked beside him, without a word, to the Blue section of the patio. As with any crowd, some wanted to be leaders, there were those who just wanted to blend in, and those who didn't care so long as they had fun. The men (no women seemed inclined to put themselves forward) were sizing each other up, but also showing off for the crowd as to why they ought to be the leader.
Four men expressed candidacies for team leader. One was older, and William thought he remembered him—as a fellow attorney and friend of Metcalfe's by the name of Haggerston. Two others looked like local businessmen, again probably men well known to the Judge. One of those two he thought he had seen. The previous evening, Charles had taken longer to drive up from LA than he had expected. Being a cheap actor, Charles didn't bother with valet parking. When he sent a text saying he was lost in the parking lot, William had gone to retrieve his friend.
On their way back into the clubhouse, there had been a scene with the woman from the registry office. William had felt compelled to comment on the kiss; he couldn't remember now why he had spoken up. There was something infuriating about the man, the way he herded or possessed her. William didn't think that men still acted that way towards women. It bothered him that this guy saw her not as a person but as a possession.
William was a producer, and he dealt with visuals. He had summoned all of that up with just one glance, hence his quip. But what he hadn't expected was her sharp retort. It was then that he realized that he had overlooked an element of the drama unfolding before him. There had been a substitution, an understudy had come in, unannounced, and the meek china doll part was to be played by that woman from the recording office. William had assumed he was stepping up to speak on some poor woman's behalf, but apparently, she wasn't allowing it. He could only look stunned that he hadn't noticed that particular piece of the puzzle while Charles, charming Charles, pulled out all the stops to help her into her chariot so that Cinderella could make her way home.
The fourth man was a priest. When William thought about it, he realized the man wasn't a Catholic one, but one of the Protestant variety. He had been baptized Catholic but had left the church after his father died years ago and wasn't sure how other churches worked. Did you invite clergy to baby showers? But this man claimed the right of leadership as well.
When Ed Stone was voted in, William noticed him walk over to speak to the event planner, and he looked at the young woman he'd run into the previous two days. She was dressed differently now. Yesterday, her hair had been pulled up, and she had been encased in a long winter coat. But today, she had her hair down. It was long and luxurious and quite beautiful. Most women didn't opt for such length after they turned twenty.
William watched the Team Blue leader strut over, put his arm around his registry office nemesis like the peacock that he was to kiss her, and she kissed him back. He felt annoyed as he watched.
"I think I'm finding less reason to like her if she likes him," Caroline commented.
"He's a peacock. He wouldn't last five minutes outside this town," said William.
"No," Caro agreed. "It's interesting, though, there's something about her that caught my eye."
"I thought all women caught your eye," he remarked.
"In a professional manner, sometimes in others, but he is so run-of-the-mill. I can't figure those two out. Why would they even be together? They don't strike me as compatible," she mused. Then they were recalled to the party by that group of black-clad helpers who herded them to their task-at-hand.
It was to be a full-immersion experience, a participatory Rube Goldberg machine, where all the guests became part of the machinery. Another one of those little public service announcements piped up to assure people that if they had different levels of physical ability, they would still be able to participate. Any concerned guests should tell any of the helpers about limitations so they could be seated or slotted into appropriate positions so no one was taxed unnecessarily.
As an event, William continued to be impressed. It was over-the-top, and there weren't any details, so far, that he found wanting. Many people had definite ideas about which position in the machine they wanted. Some were limited as to what they could do (particularly women in high heels with flowing skirts who hadn't heeded the dress warning) so they couldn't climb to the top of ladders or run.
He told one of the helpers to "place me where I'm needed." The young lady smiled broadly, catching his eye and winking at him in a way that he often inspired, and indicated that she would put him someplace special. William found he was to be on the receiving end of a long end of people who had to stand in car tires. His job was to use his best basketball skills to throw a ball into a hoop (though it was set at a ridiculously close range). People were supposed to pass the ball back and forth, mimicking the way balls bounced around, like in pinball machines. He found the young woman from the recording office (her name was Lizabeth) was next to him. She called out that she was at the end of the 'tire-chain-gang' (a moniker she coined).
One of those workers readily adopted it. "Tire-chain-gang, over here! You too, sir," as William was added at the end.
Her boyfriend wasn't part of their small group since he was the Team Blue captain. The Captains were assigned to run the final stretch, which was located at the garden's end. William watched as the man, displeased with her choice, came over to argue with her. "Lizabeth! Choose something at the end, so you're near me!"
"But this is what I want to do!" she argued back. "Being in the tires, it's like being a bouncing ball. Most of those end positions require being up ladders or pulling ropes. It doesn't seem as much fun."
"Stupid!" he called. "You need to be with me."
Again, William thought, possession, not person. He watched Ed strut angrily away to his position while Lizabeth stepped inside her tire.
There were laminated cards that explained exactly what each station was required to do with an illustration and with words in case that didn't get the idea across. Somebody in black explained the how-to as well. It took almost forty-five minutes to get everyone in place who wanted to participate. William noticed there were little cheering sections setup. Knowing that there were people who were too dignified to participate, these areas had been cordoned off for those who wanted only to clap as the balls—one pink, one blue—made their way around the garden.
He reserved judgment as to whether it was a clever or a stupid idea until he saw the final outcome. So many things could go wrong. Perhaps that was what made it fun: so many things could go wrong. He thought he heard whispered comments from people who were figuring out ways to cheat the system. He wondered if that pretty event planner had considered that. There were always people who tried to cut corners and figure out a way to get ahead.
The same happy music began to play through the speakers, indicating the commencement of the activities. That voice came through, "okay, everyone get ready. The balls are in place. We're going to get started. Remember, don't move or pull or jump or tap or hit or throw unless that ball is near you. No false starts, no cheating, and may the best team win!"
William stood still, ready to receive the ball and lob it into the basket across the walkway. He craned his neck to see where the ball was to begin. There were shouts and cries as the pink ball and the blue ball began to make their way through the maze of obstacles, most of them human, most of them requiring human intervention (that had been the point). Sometimes, there was a slide for the ball to roll down or a basket it needed to nestle in where someone would crank a handle quickly to lower it from one height to another only to have it sprinted across an area to be put into another basket and raised.
The cheering sections for those who initially felt they were above such things as participating began to get rowdy. People now found themselves jumping up and down and cheering for their selected team as the pink ball and the blue ball made their way through the two elaborate human machines.
William was tall enough to have a good perspective on the events as they unfolded, but his companion said, "I can't see," as the blue ball disappeared down a ramp. A man snatched it, fell, got up, and ran again.
"How do you think we're doing against the pink team?" Lizabeth asked. Her joy and excitement were evident and infectious.
He couldn't help responding, "I can't tell in the slightest," but was enjoying himself nevertheless.
"It doesn't matter if we win or lose as much as Ed is assured that we'll win."
"So I noticed," he remarked. The noise and excitement grew as that blue ball neared their section.
"Here it comes!" she cried, bouncing up on her toes. She pulled off the shawl which she had been wearing, revealing a loose-fitting maroon-colored dress underneath. William watched as she fiddled with her hair, running her fingers through the locks which framed her face to pull it away from her eyes. She pulled it up off of her shoulders into a loose ponytail but had no way to tie it. It had a mind of its own, and as soon as she released it, strands spilled back to the front and framed her face.
She wasn't looking at him; her eyes tracked the progress of the blue ball as it moved erratically through their side of the garden. William noticed that she had very dark eyes that stood out against her pale skin. In her excitement, she stood on her toes again; all of her movements were anxious yet playful, and he thought, how beautiful. He watched how, in her playfulness, she held her arms in front of her in anticipation, ready to do her part in this performance (a group performance). William thought that Lizabeth, with her dark hair and eyes, her beautiful face, and her lithe movements, would be one of those people who would look good on film.
"Here it comes!" she cried, turning slightly as her body tracked the movement of the ball.
A man came running towards their area with the ball under his arm, having picked it up when it had landed in a small pond. William didn't envy dealing with a wet ball. It was passed to the end of the chain gang. From there, it was passed back and forth between all of the participants who stood in the car tires. They laughed as they swapped it from one to the other down the length of tires until finally, a woman handed it to Lizabeth, who held it out to William.
He leaned towards her and over-shot his reach; instead of getting the ball, William caught Lizabeth in his arms, like a hug. He had to lean back, while she leaned back (thankfully not recoiling), but with laughter on her lips, and thrust the ball into his hands. He took it, turned, and lobbed it. It was an easy distance to get it into the basket, and he made his target.
The blue ball continued its journey in the garden to the final setup; the pink ball stayed on par as participants on both sides worked the balls through the obstacles towards the end. Darkness had descended, though William hadn't noted, mainly as there were garden lamps at appropriate intervals, and extra lighting set up throughout the garden to ensure that there was adequate illumination. He didn't doubt that there were videographers who were putting this down for posterity, newsmen as well. There would probably be a short quip at the end of the local TV news broadcast that night.
But as participants finished their tasks, they crammed forward to join others who had been merely spectators as the final participants carried the ball the last few yards and ran or maneuvered around the course. William looked up to see their team captain standing ready to run the last fifty feet towards a center platform with two big buttons on them (one for Team Blue, one for Team Pink). Ed's face was shining in excitement and pride as he waited for the blue ball to reach him. Once his hands clasped it, he spun and ran towards the center.
William's eyes turned to the other side; he was surprised to see his cousin in his wheelchair with a pink ball on his lap; Ryan's hands pushed the wheels of his chair as he shot towards the center. His loyalty switched teams then as he cheered on Team Pink and Ryan Fitzwilliam. Ryan had the strength of his arms and will and a desire to win. He had years of physical training behind him; his cousin knew how to win if it was a situation requiring physical strength even if he didn't have the use of his legs. He knew what was needed and pushed himself, reached the center platform, leaned over, and tapped the button on the pink side just ahead of Ed.
"Oh, well done!" William heard Lizabeth declare of Ryan's performance.
Pink lights illuminated a screen behind the two captains. There were also searchlights, the kind you see at Hollywood premieres, also with pink lights. But words formed on that screen: Look To The Skies. Suddenly, all the lights in the garden area went dark. There was a big 'oh,' a few screams, and a lot of snickers as people held onto each other.
Music swelled around them, through the speakers in a huge crescendo, different this time, trumpets blared. This was the announcement, and everyone did as they had been told. They looked up. The sounds of rockets boomed as fireworks were being sent overhead. They burst in the sky into giant florets of blue blooms. This was repeated over and over and over, illuminating the sky above everyone.
As William looked up at the scene, he saw it illuminated the faces of everyone cheering. Hands reached up in triumph and waved. Most everyone was clapping and calling out their congratulations to Troy and Mimi. There was a lot of hugging, and even some kissing, as the elation of the group's mood was contagious. "It's a boy! It's a boy!" became a chant.
William felt a hand on his sleeve, squeezing his arm as he looked at the companion next to him. Lizabeth's face lit up in excitement. "The Judge is going to have a son!" she cried.
He did something uncharacteristic. William swept her into his arms, held her tightly, and swung her in an arc around him as he laughed, the same sort of contagious laughter that the group shared.
