Shout (The Voice Trilogy Book 3) (14 page)

CH. 21

I watch from the back of the Town Car as we crawl down the street, one in a long line of limos and luxury cars. As soon as their door is opened, the flash bulbs start and I see him step from the car and offer his hand. She slips a leg out in grand fashion before slowly rising from the back seat, grasping Rhys’ hand and basking in the attention. The slightest flash of jealousy stings before I settle back and remind myself that her glory will be short lived.

I close my eyes and picture Rhys holding my hand, his warm fingers laced with mine, my pulse slows and I am able to take a deeper breath and focus.

              She shines in the face of the press, working the carpet, always posing. Her blue lace dress fits like a glove, a delicate pattern poured over her like a second skin. Rhys’ dark suit shimmers like a midnight lake in the face of the flashes. I see him look in our direction, knowing he is looking for us. Charlie flashes the lights at him and we slowly crawl to the head of the line as I watch them make their way up the carpet.

Olivia watches me trying so hard not to react as Michael reaches over and takes my hand.

“All will be well, my dear. Big things are in store for you and Rhys, I’m quite sure of that. Don’t worry about a thing, it’s all in order, you just need to breathe and be as charming as you always are.” He places a fatherly kiss to the back of my hand as the door opens. “Now, it’s been quite a while since I have had someone so young and beautiful on my arm. Come and make me look good,” he grins helping me from the car.

Michael doesn’t stop for the photographers nor does he acknowledge most of the press, but just walks casually by as if they aren’t even there. “I generally prefer to avoid the riffraff,” he whispers to me as we pass a local television news crew setting up. Olivia and Matthew are a few paces behind us stopping for pictures.

“Gossip is not conducive to business and I for one have never liked big wet noses poking around in my life. This is a new phenomenon here, and I can thank my son for it. It’s both a blessing and a curse as you’ve come to know. But it’s always important to be guarded, my dear. Trust should not be easily given, nor should detail.”

***

She grabs my arm and pulls me closer.

“Smile, Rhys, everyone is watching,” she whispers as she flashes that model smile at the two dozen photographers vying for her attention. I slip on a jovial smile and wrap my arm around her waist, playing the part of a doting escort.

We have cocktails in the lobby and chat up the few reporters who managed to snag a coveted ticket. Ever since my grandfather started this foundation sixty-five years ago, it has thrived and the Blue Ball has always been the crowning event where top donators are celebrated, new connections and avenues are forged, and upcoming projects are revealed. The apex of our year and this year will be no exception, I’ve made sure Sophie will never forget it, nor will I.

              Inside the ballroom elegant tables dot the well-appointed room, crystal chandeliers drip from the high arched ceiling, candles flicker by the dozens on each table and the stage is set for the chamber orchestra and band. A quartet sits in the corner and plays softly as the crowd files in with their champagne flutes, being led off in every direction by an army of ushers showing them all to their tables.

We mingle and wait for most to be seated before I walk Nadja to the largest table perched at the edge of the dance floor and adjacent to the stage. As I pull out her chair, the emcee takes the stage and opens the evening.

              I scan the room for Sophie, knowing full well she is with my father and he never partakes in the meal, preferring instead to stay in the lobby and give a chosen reporter a few exclusives on upcoming projects or future endowments.

              He has always been more comfortable among them than I and I’ve always been thankful for that, but I wonder how Sophie is faring among them. I wish she was next to me instead of insipid Nadja with her smug grin.  I watch her push her salad around her plate, feigning interest in what is being discussed at the table. She looks up at me and rolls her eyes before pouring half a glass of champagne down her throat, careful not to smudge her blood red lips.

***

We pass the marble lions that guard the door into the theater. The lobby drips with crystal chandeliers and white silk banners, and goddesses dressed in white serving cocktails and ushering guests to the ballroom. Michael and I circle the room before he leads me to the bar.

“I like to make a round and then have a round” His green eyes twinkle and his dimple shows when he winks, motioning for the bartender. “What would you like, Sophie?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” His approving smile makes me oddly proud, but I also know that I need a stiff drink. A glass of wine will not tame these nerves. To my left and right, I am surrounded by eye candy dripping with diamonds, power and influence wrapped in designer tuxedos. Everybody is somebody.

“The Balvenie, please, two fingers, neat.” The crowd funnels into the dining room, leaving a handful of discreetly operating members of the press who lack the appropriate ticket or net worth to go any further. Several men seem to be conducting a business deal much to their companion’s chagrin, as well as the staff’s. Michael raises his glass to me, “To new beginnings and family.”

“Cheers.” I take a slow, measured sip tasting honey and caramel as the scotch coats my tongue like velvet. Michael takes a hearty pull before waving over a gentleman from the corner. He is older than the rest, noticeably, but wears a press badge and carries the same tools of the trade; a camera around his neck and a smart phone in his hand.

“Mr. Slate, so nice to see you this evening.” They shake hands like old friends. “I hear we are in store for a bit of a shake up tonight? Do you care to comment on that?”

“Now, Bernie, you know that I don’t. But, I’d like to buy you a drink and introduce you to Sophie here.” He places his hand at the small of my back, nudging me into the spotlight. “Sophie, this here is Bernie. He’s a financial columnist for the Times and an occasional thorn in my side. Bernie, this is Sophie, my date.” He pulls me close with a wink and I go with it. Bernie looks skeptical, but launches into his question without much hesitation.

“I’ve seen your third quarter numbers, Mr. Slate.”

“Please, Bernie, we are having a drink. It’s a nice evening, call me Michael, for God’s sake and relax will you?” He tips his glass, urging Bernie to partake. He lifts the glass to his lips with a grimace and takes too large of a swig before coughing like an amateur.

CH 22             

Waiters filter into the room and circle the tables. Soft music fills the hall while the guests eat and drink and schmooze until the band leader stands and taps his stand, commanding the room’s attention. The music swells as the last guests take their seats. When everyone is settled, the lights go down and the spotlight illuminates a small circle on the stage in which The Mayor steps. Applause fills the space before he opens the evening’s ceremonies with a predictable joke and a burst of canned laughter. A second spotlight illuminates our table when he introduces first the foundation and then me as the keynote speaker. Nadja predictably slides into the light and kisses me on the cheek, unable to avoid the spotlight even for a moment. She squeezes my hand as I stand and ascend the steps.

              “We come together tonight to celebrate a triumphant year, or more accurately a triumphant half century. But as we all know there is always more to be done and we have some big new plans on the horizon.

              We have been blessed to watch these amazing children here tonight sharing their hard earned talents. The district wide music program just one of dozens that our team has been responsible for over the years. I know we all agree that music is vital to a growing child’s development.              

These programs are a partnership between community and the wonderful artists who donate their time and energy and sharing their passions with these children, who we hope one day, will go and share their passions as well. Giving is a cycle; it’s something we simply all must do. In order to build the kind of world that we want for our children, we have to make the world that way for all children.”

              I look up from my notes and scan the room quickly for any sign of my father or Sophie. At the back of the room, she stands, her arm laced through his, shrouded in shadows yet radiant, she tips her glass with a smile and I continue as she takes her drink.

              “We announce two new projects this evening. These are brand new endeavors for our foundation and an exciting twist in our structure.

              We have partnered with a group of parents in the Gramercy neighborhood to form a charter school. The Slate Family Foundation and the newly formed PTO will rebuild the recently closed PS 138. The building will be upgraded throughout and the school will triple its size, being able to accommodate the neighborhood children comfortably and with all the necessary technology and advancements that they require

              I am very proud of this new direction, very excited to see this project come to fruition and excited for what we hope will become a series of charter schools, focused on community and opportunity and the unique goals and needs of their individual neighborhoods. We want to give the power of education back to the parents, back to the community.

              As you all know, most of our children’s programs have always operated locally. We value our community and are proud of the work we have done. Yet, from the mouths of babes come hard truths and even harder questions.

              I’d like to talk about Clarissa Collins, New York States’ Teacher of the Year and one of only five teachers nationwide to receive the Horace Mann Award for Teaching Excellence. She is a third grade teacher at Ludes Elementary. Last year she began a correspondence project in her classroom that caught like wildfire and spread quickly throughout the school. Every student now has a pen pal, or a Global Companion, as they call one another, from developing and war torn countries all over the world.

              She began this project to help her third graders develop better writing skills and to help broaden their world, yet so much more has come from such a beautifully simple idea. The children are engaged and curious. They are soaking in each other’s culture, learning from one another and most importantly, they have started to ask questions, hard questions that we should have been asking ourselves.

              I had the great fortune of sitting in on an academic block with a group of students where kindergarten through eighth grade was represented. These children stopped me in my tracks and made me think, made me question. Children see the world through unjaded eyes; they see things as they should be. I asked them why are they writing instead of sending emails; it’s quicker, right? They all looked at me like I was crazy. ‘They don’t have computers there,’ one of the older children responded in a very matter of fact tone of voice that I’m sure his mother would have appreciated. But he was right; I should know that, I do know that. And then just as wisdom comes from the most unlikely places a little first grade girl touched me on the hand and quietly asked, ‘Why don’t they have what we have?’  As simple as that, why?

              Since that day, our team has worked tirelessly to make connections, secure funding and cooperation and to make a plan of action. There is no reason why those children should not have what our children have and it is our goal to rectify this simple injustice, to give every child the opportunity to thrive and be a part of the global community.

              Our first goal will be to implement improvements to the schools so they are technologically ready. We will start with the two schools that Clarissa began with and we will expand by two new schools each year. We are hugely proud of this program; the children have remained engaged and are actively involved in the planning.

              As most of you know, our educational foundation has been chaired by the lovely Nadja Vladova, who lends not only her star power to our causes but her open heart as well. Nadja and I were very young when we began our first foundation. Born of new experiences and travel, we knew that with our privilege came great responsibility and together we could make a big difference.

              It is with great pride and sadness that we announce tonight the end of one chapter, but the beginning of another with these two projects. Our global project will need a knowledgeable chair, and seeing as our first two schools are in the Ukraine, the amazing Nadja has volunteered to lend her expertise.”

              I look down and see her shift in her chair, looking around the room in surprise just as everyone looks at her. The shock on her face is priceless, but it’s her keen sense that all eyes are on her that keeps her from reacting.

              “Nadja will be joining our team in the Ukraine next month, her excitement about the upcoming project is infectious and we know she will make the foundation proud. It is because of this, this wonderful, selfless act by Nadja that we are left with a vacancy on the Board of Directors for the Education Foundation. There are big shoes to fill and with the growth we are hoping for in the coming years, it is important that the most qualified and most dedicated candidates be considered.

Once again, in her selflessness and wisdom Ms. Vladova has come through for us, she has named her successor and I for one could not be more excited. This young lady will bring a fresh perspective and a sense of duty to the position that will surely help to push the Slate Family Foundation into the next phase with enthusiasm and creativity. So as we celebrate the triumphs and continued growth of our programs, we must bid goodbye to Ms. Vladova and welcome her successor, Sophie Noelle.”

              The veins bulge in Nadja’s swan like neck as she struggles to control her reaction, keenly aware of all the influential eyes that are fixed on her. The crowd stands and roars with applause as my father walks Sophie onto the stage. Nadja’s eyes bulge in exquisite anger, the color drains from her cheeks and I just smile back and take Sophie’s hand.

              “Now that we have all the business out of the way for the evening, let’s get down to what’s really important, the dancing.” The bandleader takes the cue and the horn players stand and begin to play
Moonlight Serenade.
Nadja watches my every move while she is surrounded with well-wishers.

For the first time in her life she looks to escape the spotlight but there will be no reprieve for her. As Sophie and I step off the stage we are corralled into a picture by the event photographer. My father and I flank the photo, Sophie on my arm, the other board members and Nadja in the middle, the reluctant center of attention. He stops shooting and starts giving direction while his assistant changes lenses.

              “Now let’s have Mr. and Mr. Slate, please.” The others walk from the picture but I don’t want to let Sophie go.

              “It’s ok, “she whispers as a tighten my grasp. “I’ll be right here.” I let her go and he snaps a few dozen photos of me and my father. I watch Nadja in the shadows, scowling quietly trying to slink away.

              “Don’t go far Ms. Vladova. I need a shot of you and your successor.” The corner of her mouth curls and twitches and I smile back at her. “Thank you gentleman. Congratulations on your success this year.” He shakes my father’s hand then mine. “Ms. Vladova and Ms. Noelle, if you could.” He gestures to where he would like them to stand but nobody moves. Sophie looks at me and with a confidence in her eyes that makes me smile with pride.              

              “You make me incredibly proud,” I whisper before kissing her cheek and letting her go. She beams as she takes her place, as if her smile is her armor. Nadja steps into the light and forces a practiced but broken smile as she shakes Sophie’s hand.

              Her hand is cold and she grasps mine too hard but I just smile, knowing this is killing her. The photographer starts to snap away and she slips into her model trance, her face practiced, and her posture impeccable. Yet under her breath she cannot help herself for trying.

              “You don’t deserve any of this you little tramp.” Her hushed words are acidic and meant to bite but I don’t care any longer. I pull her closer to me and press my cheek to hers, both of us smiling brightly for the camera. She struggles to pull her hand from mine without making a scene but I tighten my grip and keep smiling. “He will get tired of you. He will replace you and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

              “Just a few more ladies!” The photographer calls. I turn and kiss Nadja on the cheek as he takes the last shots.

              “Have a nice time in the Ukraine,” I murmur in her ear as Rhys takes my hand and thanks the photographer, urging me towards the dance floor and away from her. She watches our every step and I watch her watching us until Rhys pulls me into the fray on the dance floor and we are swallowed by the crowd. He tips his head to the band leader and they begin to play A Kiss to Build a Dream on.

              “Do I want to know what was said?” He asks as he swings me from his arms and back into his embrace.

              “Nothing important.” I look up into his sparkling eyes and smile sweetly giving nothing away. He lets it fall to the wayside and we dance, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, my eyes locked firmly on his.