Rogue

Chapter 23

Maxine had bought a new dress for the rehearsal dinner too, and when Charles saw her in it, he whistled. It was a pale gold filmy strapless evening gown that wrapped around her like a sarong. She looked like a young Grace Kelly. She was wearing it with high-heeled gold sandals. Blake had decided to make the rehearsal dinner black tie.

Charles looked very proper in a single-breasted black dinner jacket. And when they got to the party, Blake was wearing a double-breasted white one, with black tuxedo trousers, his proper black bow tie, and patent leather pumps. Maxine noticed immediately that Blake wasn't wearing socks. She knew him well, and it didn't surprise her. A lot of the men in Southampton did it. It was kind of a trendy preppy thing, although Charles made a comment about it and had worn his. Blake looked incredibly handsome with his black hair and deep tan, but so did Charles. They were both good-looking men. And with her long blond hair and pale gold dress, Maxine looked like an angel. Blake said all she needed was wings.

Blake had invited a hundred people from Max's list, and another dozen or so of his own. There was a ten-piece band playing everything from Motown to big band music to swing. And everyone was in great spirits. The champagne flowed like water, and Maxine saw Daphne take a glass, and signaled to her “just one,” and Daphne nodded agreement. But Maxine was going to keep an eye on her anyway.

It was fun seeing all her friends, and introducing Charles to the ones he didn't know. Her parents were there, her mother in a pale blue evening dress with a jacket, and her father in a white dinner jacket like Blake's. They were a handsome group.

Maxine's father stopped to talk to Charles for a few minutes before dinner, and asked him how the boat trip had been. He hadn't seen him since. “That's quite a boat, isn't it?” he said jovially, and Charles agreed that it was and said he'd had a very good time. It would have been hard not to.

Charles started the evening off by dancing with Maxine, and they looked happy and relaxed, and at ease in each other's arms. They made a very attractive couple. And it was a beautiful party. Blake had had the club decorated with thousands of white roses and delicate paper lanterns brushed with gold.

He made a witty speech before dinner, and told some very funny stories about Maxine that had everyone in hysterics, including Max. Charles looked a little pained, but he got through them. He didn't like the idea that Blake knew her better than he did, and had history with her. Blake wished them both well then, and said that he hoped Charles did a much better job of making her happy than he did. It was a moving moment, and brought tears to Max's eyes. And afterward, Charles stood up and toasted their very generous host, and promised to see to it that Maxine was blissful forever. Everyone was touched.

Blake asked Maxine to dance afterward, between courses at dinner, and they whirled around the dance floor looking like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. They had always danced well together.

“That was sweet of you to say,” she corrected him, “but you made me happy. I was always happy with you, Blake. I just didn't see enough of you, and I never knew where you were. You outgrew me after you made all that money.”

“I didn't outgrow you, Max,” he said softly. “I hadn't grown into you yet. I wasn't big enough to reach your boots in those days. I think I knew that, and it scared me. You were so much smarter than I was, and so much wiser about so many things. You always kept your eye on what mattered, like our kids.”

“So did you,” she said generously. “We just wanted different things. I wanted to work, and you wanted to play.”

“I think there's a French fable about that. And look where it got me. According to Daphne, I'm surrounded by bimbos.” They were both laughing at the comment, when Charles cut in, and whirled Maxine away in his arms.

“What were you laughing about?” he asked suspiciously. “You two looked like you were having an awfully good time.”

“Something Daphne said to him, about his bimbos.”

“That's quite a comment for her to make to her father,” he said with obvious disapproval.

“It's true, though,” Maxine said, laughing again. The dance ended, and they went back to their table. She had the feeling that Charles hadn't really wanted to dance with her, he just wanted to get her away from Blake.

Blake had seated the dinner perfectly. All her favorite people were at her table with Charles, and Blake's good friends were at his. He didn't have a date for the evening, and had seated Maxine's mother beside him, at his right, which was proper. Charles had noticed that too. He saw everything, and watched them both all night. He never took his eyes off Maxine or Blake. He looked like a worried man. The only time he relaxed was when Maxine danced with Jack or Sam.

Everyone continued dancing till midnight, after the dinner, and at the stroke of midnight, sparklers went off in the sky. Blake had organized a fireworks show for them, and Maxine clapped her hands like a child. She loved fireworks, and Blake knew it. It was a perfect evening, and the last guests straggled home around one A.M. Charles was staying at the hotel that night, as she had insisted he should. In the end, her parents had decided to stay there too instead of with her. She had one last dance with Blake and thanked him for the fireworks show. She had loved it. And she asked him if he'd mind driving the kids and Zellie home. She was going to drop Charles off at the hotel where he was staying so they wouldn't see each other till the wedding. Blake promised to have them home in half an hour.

And when the dance ended, she went back to Charles and they left.

The wedding was at noon the next day. But everyone agreed that the rehearsal dinner would be hard to top. She and Charles talked about it on the way to his hotel, which he had complained about. It seemed like a foolish tradition to him. He would have preferred to stay at the house, but Maxine had insisted. Charles kissed her goodnight, which reminded her of why she was marrying him. She loved him, in spite of his being what Daphne called a “stuffed shirt.” They were flying to Paris the following night, and they were going to take a driving trip through the valley of the Loire. It sounded like the perfect honeymoon to her.

“I'm going to miss you tonight,” he said huskily, and she kissed him again.

“I'll miss you too,” she whispered, giggling. She had had a reasonable amount of champagne at the party, but she wasn't drunk, and was sure that she was sober. “The next time I see you, about ten minutes after that, I'll be Mrs. West,” she said, beaming at him. It had been a beautiful evening.

“I can't wait,” he said, kissed her for a last time, and he reluctantly got out of the car, waved, walked into the hotel, and she drove away.

When she got home, she walked into the living room and poured herself another glass of champagne. A few minutes later, she heard Blake's car drive in with Zellie and the children. Zellie had left Jimmy at the house with a sitter, who left as soon as they returned, and Zelda urged all the children upstairs to bed. They were exhausted and disappeared with mumbled goodnights to their parents, who were sitting on the couch, talking.

Blake was in good spirits, and Maxine seemed a little tipsy to him, more so than she had at the party. She had been sober then, but was less so now, after two more glasses of champagne. He helped himself to a glass of champagne too. They were having fun talking about the evening. Blake had had a lot to drink that night but was still sober. And he looked like a movie star in his white dinner jacket. They both did, as they toasted each other with the champagne.

“That was a gorgeous party,” she said, twirling around the living room in her gold dress, and she twirled herself right into his arms. “You give such good parties. It was very glamorous, don't you think?”

“I think you'd better sit down before you fall down, you lush,” he teased her.

“I am not drunk,” she insisted, which was a clear sign that she was. He had always liked Maxine when she was a little drunk. She was so funny and so sexy, and it happened so seldom, but this was a special night. “Do you think I'll be happy with Charles?” she asked him with a serious expression. Suddenly, she had to work harder than usual to focus on him.

“I hope so, Max,” Blake said sincerely. He could have said otherwise, but he didn't.

“He's so grown up, isn't he? Kind of like my father,” she said, crossing her eyes a little as she looked at Blake, but she still looked prettier than ever, and he had to remind himself not to take advantage of the situation. That wouldn't have been fair. He wouldn't have done anything to harm her, and certainly not tonight. He had missed the boat, and he knew it. He switched from champagne to vodka, and poured her the last of the champagne she'd had in the house.

“Yes, he is kind of like your father,” Blake replied. “They're both doctors.” He was starting to feel pleasantly drunk too, and he didn't mind it a bit. If he was ever going to get drunk, tonight was it.

“I'm a doctor too,” she informed him with a loud hiccup. “A shrink. I do trauma. Didn't I meet you recently in Morocco?” She laughed uproariously at her own question, and he did too.

“You look different in combat boots. I think I like you better in heels.” She held up a shapely leg and looked at her delicate gold sandals and nodded agreement.

“Me too. The boots gave me blisters.”

“Wear heels next time,” he advised her, sipping his vodka.

“I will. I promise. You know,” she said, sipping the champagne, “we have really nice children. I love them very much.”

“I do too.”

“I don't think Charles likes them,” she said, frowning.

“They don't like him either,” Blake said, and they both laughed hard at that too. And then Maxine squinted at him as though from a great distance.

“Why did we get divorced anyway? Do you remember? I don't. Did you do something bad to me?” She was definitely drunk by then, and so was Blake.

“I forgot to come home.” He smiled sadly.

“Oh, that was it. Now I remember. That's too bad. I really like you… actually, I love you,” she said, smiling benignly at him, and hiccuped again.

“I love you too,” Blake said gently, and then his conscience got the better of him. “Maybe you should go to bed, Max. You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow at your wedding.” Champagne was always a killer the next day.

“Are you asking me to go to bed with you?” she asked, looking a little startled.

“No, I'm not. If I did, Charles would be really pissed tomorrow, and you'd feel really guilty. But I think you should go to bed.” She finished the last of her champagne as she said it, and by then he could see she was really drunk. The final glass had made the difference, and he was feeling very drunk too. The vodka did him in after a long night of drinking, or maybe it was seeing her that way, in her gold dress. She was intoxicating. She always had been for him. He suddenly remembered, and wondered how he could have forgotten.

“Why do I have to go to bed so early?” she pouted at him.

“Because, Cinderella,” he said gently, scooping her up in his arms, and lifting her off the couch, “you're going to turn into a pumpkin if you don't. And you're going to marry the handsome prince tomorrow.” He started walking her to her bedroom.

“No, I'm not. I'm marrying Charles. I remember that. He's not the handsome prince. You are. Why am I marrying him?” She looked suddenly annoyed, and Blake laughed as he staggered and nearly dropped her, and then got a better grip. She was light as a feather.

“I think you're marrying him because you love him,” he said as he walked into her bedroom, and put her gently on the bed, and then stood looking at her, weaving slightly. They were both as drunk as skunks.

“Oh, that's nice,” Maxine said pleasantly. “I love him. And I really should marry him. He's a doctor.” And then she looked at Blake. “I think you're too drunk to go home. And I'm too drunk to drive you.” It was a fairly accurate assessment of the situation. “You'd better stay here.” As she said it, the room was reeling around him.

“I'll just lie down for a minute and sober up, if that's okay with you. And then I'll drive home. You don't mind, do you?” he asked, as he lay down next to her in his dinner jacket and his shoes.

“I don't mind at all,” she said, as she turned toward him, and put her head on his shoulder. She was still wearing the gold dress and the gold shoes. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“That's the name of our boat,” Blake said, with his eyes closed, and passed out cold.