Chapter Four
Erik Underwood skeptically looked at his reflection for a long time. He was standing in front of one of only three mirrors he would ever find in his house. There was one removable one that was in the downstairs half-bathroom and a tiny one in his shower for shaving. Most of the time, both were covered up by a small sheet so that he wouldn't have to look at himself any more than what was absolutely needed. Currently, he stood before a full mirror located in his walk-in closet. He surveyed his jet black suite that costed some obscene fine from Bottega Veneta. A light grey collared shirt was showing beneath, a matching black tie perfectly knotted under a freshly steam-pressed collar. There was something comforting about having clothing that was of the best one could buy. No one could argue with how he looked when it came to high class fashion. Granted, he wasn't wearing his Kiton that evening. That was for deal-making and intimidation nights. This night was meant to be a collection of drinking, merriment, and good will to poor needy children under the context of delivering them culture…None of which Erik was particularly interested in. He sighed. The Kiton would have to wait.
His phone buzzed lightly in his pocket. A text. Nadir would be waiting for him as they planned on attending the ceremony together. At least then there would be one person out of a couple hundred that he didn't despise. They called it the "Crusade and Ceremony," and it was another ironic bit of honesty there. They crusaded everyone for money in the name of the future of the arts and ceremonies for only the highest of the victors. Most of the people there didn't even care so much for the arts. Erik cared even if he would never admit to just how much. It was a good campaign addition if anything.
IV
Christine looked into the full mirror that hung from her bathroom door. It had been thankfully quiet that day in Eastern Market due to the cold rain that came through that morning. Not many people were out and about shopping for the bits of art that locals came out to sell. She enjoyed living out there near the metro. People were nice and her basement studio apartment was cheap in rent in comparison to many nicer places nearby. She had to admit that life out there was good whenever she had the chance to experience it.
Her electric blue dress seemed to make her blonde hair shine and her pale skin glow. She wasn't sure if it was too much. Raoul had made her visit a dress store in Bethesda and had them put the dress on his tab. Just around her shoulders was more of the dress as it looped up in clean diamond ties that finished out across her back, stretching only just below her shoulder blades. The bodice itself was heart shaped and tucked into another thick piece of fabric that circled her waist just right. From there, the dress filled out and cascaded loosely all the way to the floor to cover up her nude-colored three inch heels.
The sheer satin fell smoothly from her fingers as she touched it. It was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen in person, let alone own. At the store, there were no prices or labels on anything so Christine never knew how much Raoul had spent on her. He kept that from her as well. She was sure she would hand it right back if she ever found out just how much money she was wearing.
For the finishing touch, Christine placed teardrop diamond earrings into her ears. Her hair had already been finished by Meg and was swept up into a sea of ringlets that were now wrapped up into a large flat bun. Her makeup was still simple, but noticeable now and Christine clenched her hands together nervously already unsure if there was too much eyeliner. This was the closest she had felt to beautiful, really beautiful in a long time and it was terrifying.
"Raoul's going to lose it when it sees you," Meg said with a smirk as she stood with a glass of wine in her hand. She was wearing a light pink dress that appeared to tie around her neck, pull lightly around her bodice only to tuck into a thin strap that showed how nice and thin her waist was. It cascaded to the floor with extra room to fan out around her if she were to spin fast enough. The dress was very nice, though Christine wondered if she were to stand out for it not being as nice as what Raoul had purchased for herself. She had seen pictures of this event, of the president and all others walking down finely woven carpets in a marble hallway. She wondered vaguely what marble would do to her head if she fell from a panic attack.
"I hope this doesn't bring too much attention to me." Christine said nervously, "I can't afford to break anything. And these earrings are on loan."
"Don't sweat it, hon." She could tell Meg was getting a little annoyed and realized that her fuss wouldn't be going any further, "Tonight's going to be a load of fun. You'll see, k? Just pretend that we're princesses going to a ball and you're Cinderella. It's all pretend and we're lucky enough to have this past midnight!"
Christine muttered at her reflection, "Maybe it would be better if an ogre ran off with me tonight."
"If I didn't think it would knock you over, I'd throw this pillow at you." Meg's hand was gripped over the fabric of a colorful second-hand pillow.
Christine turned to her, "I don't know how I'll feel being so close to Raoul. He's actually a prince."
Meg took another sip of the wine, "Nah, he's just rich. There's definitely a difference, hon. What's his deal anyway? Is he still coming or sending a car now?"
"He's sending his car over so that we can get there on time. For some reason he won't tell me about, he's going to be late."
"Hey," Meg crossed over to hug her friend's shoulders reassuringly with her long lean arms, "It's going to be fine. You can be my date first and no one will think twice of you. Or me for that matter. I'll be incognito with you. It's the perfect cover-up. Think of the stories I'll pick up tonight!"
"Right…" Christine mumbled before looking back up to her mirror to study just how vibrant her eyes looked with makeup over them, "And you don't think this eyeliner is too much?"
"God no! Any unnatural color and you freak out. You look amazing. Now let me pee and then we can go. Have the rest of the wine. You need it."
Christine took a long look at the glass of wine Meg left in her hand. It couldn't really hurt that much to at least try to loosen up, even if it was with the help of something else. Sighing, she put the glass up to her mouth and took a good two and a half gulps to finish the glass before Meg came back out.
IV
Every year, the Kennedy Center Capital Arts Crusade and Ceremony spared no expense in treating their donors to the highest of standards and class. Upon arrival, the honorees were greeted with bright white lights that illuminated a flush red carpet just large enough for two people to walk comfortably side by side with room for large gowns to fan out if need be. The planning team for such a prestigious event lavished those in attendance with such glamor in hopes that the next year, the enormous tax-deductible donations would rise by percentage amounts.
As guests made their way up the marble steps of the Kennedy Center, the press was already there waiting to snap the most impressive picture for their magazines, papers, and news reports. Security personnel, both government and private, stood tall and strong, every now and then talking softly into nearly hidden earpieces. Helicopters flew by with searchlights on high creating more spots of light for the gods below. This was a high-end event that would let the public know who was in the money, who supported what cause, and of course, who knew how to dress in the current fashion.
Anyone from politician, to high-end music artist, to globally recognized painter, to composer, to wealthy business associate was there. Everyone who mattered in the world of the arts had a face to share. Everything was to be absolutely marvellous with no spared expense and those in attendance were to appear nothing less.
Once inside, guests strolled down halls of white marble, held up by strong pillars, the red carpet still laid beneath their feet. Christmas trees were lined on either side of them between each pillar. Each one was decorated with a different class. All had bright gold lights and garland, but only a few had round red spheres. There were some that help glass blue menorahs, others with African attributed designs, symbols of varying religions, trees dedicated to different seasons, everything was politically and religiously accounted for, and everything still looked to matched everything else to create a breathtaking array of celebration.
By the end of the hallway, four men and women stood across from each other, all of them wearing matching black suits. They held their hands sturdy to their sides with blank strong looks on their faces, meaning to be a sturdy welcome into a banquet hall of smiles, laughter, and secret objectives. The banquet hall was well-lit to display all of the elegant dresses and suits, the absolute best that money could buy and unlike the popular televised awards ceremonies, everyone in attendance to this production wore tasteful fashion as if it were ingrained in their very beings.
Tables lined the walls of the rectangular room. They were wood with matching chairs that had well cleanly stitched cream colored fabrics tied neatly in bows around the backs of the chairs and around the circular tables. In center of the tables, a large floor had been cleared for dancing, the surrounding carpet having been removed. Beyond the floor was a raised stage holding a string orchestra against the wall. They turned their instruments as piano music played from hidden monitors around the room. Microphones were set up for intended speakers at the foot of the stage. Above them, crystal chandeliers shined brightly over everything, making the room sparkle from the reflections.
The way that dresses fanned out around patrons, the manners of the men, and the pose that people held themselves, it seemed almost like stepping back to a time where such things as class and chivalry really mattered. People could tell who they knew, by the way, they took to their surroundings and people could point out just who they wanted to talk to by using a combination of such elements as if it were ingrained in their evolution.
A young woman in blue stood, mesmerized by the glow that surrounded her, not only from the elegant chandelier but the people themselves. Everything and everyone seemed so perfect, so absolutely to the nines and exemplary. They stared at her as she walked in, took a long look at what she wore, how she wore it, her makeup choices, the way her hair was held up, and when finding nothing to pick at from any of it, finally settled on her face that had such a simple easy accepting beauty to its soft features. She was not the most gorgeous in the room and she was far from the least appealing. This young woman would fit for a night they concluded, and they let her be as she continued to walk in with a lost yet entranced look on her face.
On the opposite side of the room, a man stood in the only shadow that the room possessed. He held a glass cup filled with dark liquid in his left hand, leaving his right hand available for anyone that needed the sort of professional reassurance that came with a handshake. Another man, one of tanned skin and a few inches shorter, stood next to him. Every so often they would speak a few words to each other. Others would come and go, all of them eager to meet the taller man and shake his hand. He greeted everyone with the same level of politeness, but his confidant next to him knew just what the sigh meant that followed each of these people once they were gone.
This man had seen the young woman when she entered, just as he had seen everyone else who had entered before and after her from the corner of his eye. Besides the hint of terror that he could sense hiding behind her eyes, he made no other special notes of her. She was clearly a date of one of the wealthy even if that date had not appeared with her. That was peculiar. Other than that, there was nothing else to note.
The leader of the event came to the center microphone and thanked the attendees numerous times for their contributions and their being there. After this, he announced there would be eatables placed around the room for guests to taste, and finally left the stage for a well known, now elderly, jazz singer to take the stage. The night had begun.
IV
Raoul tugged on his overcoat to straighten it once exiting his rented Mercedes. His late night online meeting with one of Erik's secretive colleagues had gone far longer than he had expected. The entire thing came off as a waste of this time, but there was some information that proved helpful when it came to his home state of Pennsylvania. He wasn't sure what Erik wanted from him, but if it was as simple as listening to old men talk, that was far better than other things that could have been asked of him.
He didn't take note of the grand layout before him as he all but ran down the hallway into the banquet hall. Such gatherings he had seen before and this one, while he could appreciate the beauty, it was nothing new. This entire life was nothing new. Even Christine, technically, as wonderful as she was for him, was at the end of the day, nothing new. However, the sight of her was state-of-the-art enough for him. He had never seen her look so elegant and refined. Part of him wasn't sure if it would have been at all possible to have such a dramatic change so quickly, but there she was at his table nibbling on a shortbread cookie and carefully sipping white wine.
There was promise in her and times like this made that clear. She was the type that he needed to marry. She would be the one to save his image for good, to help him move forward beyond his entire shitty past. So far that night she had only spoken when necessary, kept everything to only skin deep conversations with others and left a polite impression on them once they left. This was what was needed of her for him: nothing amazing or something too much to stand out, but something to look and act prettily beside him, to compliment him, and keep him going.
When he had told her he loved her, he had been completely honest despite the desperate circumstances they had been in. She had not returned his statement and he had not really repeated the words since out of concern that she would not exchange them again, but his words had been true and all he was doing now was waiting for the opportune time to have her say them to him. Then things would be fine. Everything would be fine.
There were plenty of doubts in his young life, but at the moment, and for many moments to come, Raoul knew without a doubt that he truly and honestly loved Christine.
IV
Raoul's slightly dishevelled appearance was clear to Erik when he entered. There was a part of him that was hoping the old man from China would talk so much and so slowly in his broken English that his little slave wouldn't show up at all. He really did find disgust in pompous little frat boys who worked little and received much. Regardless, no words would be exchanged this night. Their relationship was not a public one and for clear reasons, especially as his step-brother Phillip Tusk was no fool. They were members of the same party. That was it. There had been a point to all of the lectures Erik had set him up with, it was simply a matter of putting everything together against the right person. Eventually, connections would begin to grow and once he discovered them, he was sure to go to Erik as his confidant. Then, it would not be a conspired attack against his superiors, it would be an understanding and a decision to come out with it for the good of the American people. At least, that's how Erik planned for it to go. The Secretary of State, the position that had been promised to him first, would be the first to go and it would be simple pruning from there on.
It was an interesting study to see the young man sit down to the simple beauty in blue. There was a casual conversation between them and they appeared to be acting overly professional. So professional and polite and withdrawn they were that Erik was suspecting something further that was hidden from those around them who had already had too much expensive champaign to drink. Erik had planned on nursing no more than three drinks that night just for this reason. Truths would come out in various people this night and he wanted to be around to note every single one of them. A thought came to his mind and he began to wonder if the young woman sitting beside him was the same that sat waiting for him on his front porch on the night of his D.U.I. As if sensing his gaze, the woman looked up and caught his eyes. She seemed to shrink under his gaze and he could see her gulp from across the room. Raoul followed her stare then quickly pulled her attention back to him.
Four drinks in and Raoul was outright staring at the woman before him. She appeared embarrassed of this and kept shying away from all visual connections with him. She had only one drink of champagne the entire hour and was clearly not as tipsy as he. As simple music played on, a woman in pink came and took her away from the man's gazes. She, while having no tags on, was part of the press. The way she made her way about the banquet hall so quickly proved that. Many had not realized this about her. She had placed to tag in another location from the others, made her self appear to be with the crowd, but to Erik, it was clear she was a new recruit of an old paper. As pretty as she was, he was certain that her getting attention and interesting stories of people would be easy. He wouldn't be surprised if she was even invited to a few after parties either by mistake of her being a guest or not. She could fool the others to look like an artist, but to him her point was clear. There was a fire for information in her eyes that he couldn't ignore and he wouldn't encourage her his way.
Immediately, as soon as the two young women were off on their own in a corner, the young woman in blue seemed to let some of her tensions loose from her shoulders. They looked about the room, the woman in pink chatting softly and stealthy into her friend's ear. They giggled and suddenly all other friendly relationships in the room appeared forged in comparison. They were not a part of this crowd, they were real people among this mass of money and power, and they appeared to only be interested in the others as humans rather than what they could gain from them. Eventually, the woman in blue had to return to her date and her tension and uncomfortable awkward smiles returned and enhanced.
Erik was only mildly interested.
IV
Speakers came and went throughout the night, Christine listened attentively to all of them, wondering just who they were and how they came to their status. The performers she had heard of. She had remembered them from another lifetime and listening to them was threatening to bring her back to that time. As rude as she felt it to be, she often tore herself away from their music to listen to those who came up to Raoul to speak. They seemed to not feel the music as she did, they were turned off to its allure. She hated to admit she was thankful for it. There was a part of her that wanted to feel and respond to the beauty, but that side she almost wished to be dead. Such things hurt too much. Such things couldn't be opened again.
The entire world around her was nothing but one uncomfortable scene after another, either someone she didn't exactly care for was talking and laughing next to her, practically ignoring her as they viewed her as nothing next to Raoul, or a new singer was introduced that reminded her of something she wasn't capable of combating. At one point, she made eye contact with a cold Erik Underwood from across the room. She had not noticed him before this moment and wondered if he had been in the same corner that entire night. Their connection did not last long and he took a sip of his drink before he turned his attention back to the stage where a group of children of intentionally mixed races and mixed economic prosperity lined up on the stage. While the connection was short, it was clear, Underwood had been looking at her for something and she feared that he somehow knew everything about her as he had found it out about Raoul. The thought crossed her to ask Raoul, but he was already a few drinks in and laughing with an old fraternity buddy. Such a subject would need to wait.
The Master Coordinator for the night's events was on the stage once more, presenting what was the Washington Equality Children's Choir. He went on to thank donors again as their support as it kept the organization alive.
"And of course, I'm sure you've all been looking forward to our annual Spot Singing Event. If you have someone you wish to nominate for this please visit the table in the back where you can place your bet. There will be three Spot Singers, the highest bidder gets to have them go in the order he or she wishes as well as pick from our selection of songs for them to sing. Place your bets now as this will be closed in only 15-minutes and remember that all the money donated will go to funding the renovation of the Downtown Cultural Center!"
Christine watched as the man left the stage and the conductor of the choir took her place in front of the children. When she looked back at Raoul, his posture had straightened and he was calming his once excited and tipsy nerves. It was his brother Phillip that was talking to him. She remembered him from so many years ago: pale, bags under his eyes, white hair, bright blue eyes, and a bit of a gut. His eyes caught her and she felt the need to straighten up as well. He did not speak to her, only half-smiled and turned his conversation back to his brother. There was recognition in his eyes. He knew who she was whether Raoul had told him about her or not. He was nodding and just before leaving said in her direction, "Don't waste my money," and walked away.
The children's choir started to sing a very poised and professional "Carol of the Bells" and Christine watched with curious eyes as Phillip walked very pointedly to the table in the back of everything were numerous people were lined up and signing papers and writing checks for bets. All of them seemed to move to the side as Phillip approached. Some of them laughed and seemed to give up. Phillip was making a bet and apparently, it was a winning bet that was not to be seriously challenged by anyone else. The choir continued until applause hit the air and Christine followed the motion before laying a hand on Raoul's arm lightly and whispered, "What was that about?"
Reluctantly, Raoul withdrew his arm, "Careful babe," he said softly, "We don't want any more attention."
Christine nodded and tried to push away the fact that Raoul had been far more overbearing in affection that evening than her. She was distracted by Meg who sat down next to her. "Did the great grump say something to you?" she asked.
"I'm not sure," Christine whispered back.
Two more singers were taking the stage. People began to laugh and Christine looked up to see the current Vice President and the Speaker of the House preparing themselves for something that others seemed to be looking forward to. The Master Controller came back, "Now to start off Spot Singing, we present our opening act that will be singing a song picked by you from an online poll. I feel these men need no introduction here so I'll let them get straight into it. Fellas?"
Both men were of good spirits, but were clearly embarrassed by the sea of laughter that came from the crowd when the Vice President sang or grumbled more like, "I've got to go 'way," followed by the Speaker's "Baby it's cold outside."
The rest of the verse was almost completely lost to those falling over themselves in laughter. Christine couldn't help but joke with them as Meg whispered into her ear, "This song is about rape," The girls began to laugh more in embarrassment at the terrible fact that it may have been. The two leaders continued their song and eventually ended to thunderous applause despite hardly having sung a word on-pitch. The two men exited and were both handed a glass of champaign for their efforts.
There was a time of further chatter. Christine proceeded to sip her single glass of champagne. Raoul continued to talk to others she didn't know. Meg was up and around the room making her rounds. The thought that she would be able to make this night a good one crossed her mind and a light smile came over her features. This could be a good night. This could still be a very good night. And at the end of this night, she would go home with Raoul and he might just fall asleep before they got to anything. She would be tired after all of this kind of social carousel and she simply hoped that he would be too.
The Master Controller took the stage again and appeared to have three envelopes in his hand. Once in front of the microphone, he held them up for everyone to see, "In here are our soon to be Spot Singers!" The crowded clapped loudly and a nervous excitement ran through the air. "For our first Spot Singer, we would like to give a big round of applause to our largest donor. He has put an impressive ten thousand dollars down for our Cultural Arts Center. Let's give a big thank you to the Future Vice President, Mr. Phillip Tusk!" More applause and everyone acknowledged Phillip who was standing conveniently near the stage, a stale grin on his face.
"Like we were really surprised by that one." The Master Controller teased, "So, Mr. Vice President-Elect has chosen whomever is inside this envelope here." He pulled one envelope out from all the rest dramatically, then pulled out a slip of paper inside. At seeing what was written on it, he made a face as if confused, but finally finished in a question.
"Christine Gallagher?"
Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet Of Fire? XD
Check out the tumblr for some good shots of what I'm talking about! I based this event off of the Kennedy Center Honors :) capitolintent DOT tumblr DOT com. Oh. And review. I'm looking at you. Re-view.