when he looks at me like that? Catching my attention at an angle nobody else can see, he mouths to me, “Sorry. . . Love You.” It melts my heart. Once we are inside the building, we’re safe. There are no cameras allowed inside, except for the people attending and Weldon University photographers, like Smitty.
***
The ballroom is gorgeous. The columns around the outside of the dance floor that hold up the surrounding balcony above are draped with long lengths of dark red velour fabric. The lights are dim and there are large round paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling in shades of dark red, black and cream. The tables are covered with red and black paisley. There are small lamps on the tables. Real lamps with black shades. The ballroom walls and columns are made of rich dark wood. The room itself is a throwback to the 20s or 30s, and with the addition of the decorations, I feel as if I have stepped into an illegal speakeasy – dark, dangerous, a little dirty. It makes me laugh to myself that my panties and bra actually match the décor tonight. I hope Davis thinks they’re dark, dangerous and a little dirty.
Not ten steps into the ballroom I am greeted by a very enthusiastic hug from Jules. She’s practically hopping up and down, blonde curls bobbing. “You’re finally here. What took so long? Never mind. Come on guys … Hi, Davis, Smitty …”
Smitty pipes in, “Jules … this is Kathleen, Davis’, umm …”
I finish his sentence, “really good friend,” and give Kathleen a look of support.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Jules. Biz and Davis have told me all about you and… Charlie, is it, your boyfriend? His band is playing tonight?” Kathleen points up toward the stage.
Jules shakes Kathleen’s hand, but then decides to really welcome her by giving her a hug too, “Great to meet you Kathleen. Yeah, Charlie’s my guy and YES, Boxwood is playing tonight and they are tearing it up.”
We all turn to wave and smile at the guys in the band. The are dressed in black and white striped shirts, pants and hats, old school prison garb with big red hearts on their upper left chests embroidered with their “inmate numbers.”
“G et it?” Jules asks, “They are Prisoners of Love.”
“That is great!” Kathleen approves. I nod my head in agreement.
I look Jules up and down. Well, she is just adorable. She could be straight out of The Great Gatsby. Light blue sparkly dropped waist dress with a matching head scarf that covers her forehead and ties in back, her gorgeous blonde curls tumbling over the top of the scarf. She looks as sweet as can be, except for the fake Derringer tucked into her bustline and a purse shaped like a Tommy Gun over her shoulder. She sees me looking at her gun purse and, giggling, tells me, “I’m packing heat. I gotta protect myself since my guy is incarcerated.” She jerks her thumb up toward the stage to indicate Charlie.
“You are an adorable gun moll. I hope he gets paroled for at least one song, so he can dance with you” I say.
Putting the back of her hand up to her forehead, she dramatically says, “Such is the life of a prison band widow.” We giggle some more.
At some point during my silliness with Jules, Davis, Kathleen and Smitty have headed to the bar. It’s fine. I wanted some time with Jules. Seems like we have less and less of it. Davis knows to get me a Diet Coke. He needs to celebrate. It is his birthday after all. And if he is a little drunk my birthday present for him might be a little less embarrassing (for me, not
***
The ballroom is gorgeous. The columns around the outside of the dance floor that hold up the surrounding balcony above are draped with long lengths of dark red velour fabric. The lights are dim and there are large round paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling in shades of dark red, black and cream. The tables are covered with red and black paisley. There are small lamps on the tables. Real lamps with black shades. The ballroom walls and columns are made of rich dark wood. The room itself is a throwback to the 20s or 30s, and with the addition of the decorations, I feel as if I have stepped into an illegal speakeasy – dark, dangerous, a little dirty. It makes me laugh to myself that my panties and bra actually match the décor tonight. I hope Davis thinks they’re dark, dangerous and a little dirty.
Not ten steps into the ballroom I am greeted by a very enthusiastic hug from Jules. She’s practically hopping up and down, blonde curls bobbing. “You’re finally here. What took so long? Never mind. Come on guys … Hi, Davis, Smitty …”
Smitty pipes in, “Jules … this is Kathleen, Davis’, umm …”
I finish his sentence, “really good friend,” and give Kathleen a look of support.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Jules. Biz and Davis have told me all about you and… Charlie, is it, your boyfriend? His band is playing tonight?” Kathleen points up toward the stage.
Jules shakes Kathleen’s hand, but then decides to really welcome her by giving her a hug too, “Great to meet you Kathleen. Yeah, Charlie’s my guy and YES, Boxwood is playing tonight and they are tearing it up.”
We all turn to wave and smile at the guys in the band. The are dressed in black and white striped shirts, pants and hats, old school prison garb with big red hearts on their upper left chests embroidered with their “inmate numbers.”
“G et it?” Jules asks, “They are Prisoners of Love.”
“That is great!” Kathleen approves. I nod my head in agreement.
I look Jules up and down. Well, she is just adorable. She could be straight out of The Great Gatsby. Light blue sparkly dropped waist dress with a matching head scarf that covers her forehead and ties in back, her gorgeous blonde curls tumbling over the top of the scarf. She looks as sweet as can be, except for the fake Derringer tucked into her bustline and a purse shaped like a Tommy Gun over her shoulder. She sees me looking at her gun purse and, giggling, tells me, “I’m packing heat. I gotta protect myself since my guy is incarcerated.” She jerks her thumb up toward the stage to indicate Charlie.
“You are an adorable gun moll. I hope he gets paroled for at least one song, so he can dance with you” I say.
Putting the back of her hand up to her forehead, she dramatically says, “Such is the life of a prison band widow.” We giggle some more.
At some point during my silliness with Jules, Davis, Kathleen and Smitty have headed to the bar. It’s fine. I wanted some time with Jules. Seems like we have less and less of it. Davis knows to get me a Diet Coke. He needs to celebrate. It is his birthday after all. And if he is a little drunk my birthday present for him might be a little less embarrassing (for me, not
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