Chapter 29: The Gala and Afterwards

DAVE

A few days after Wendy asked me to the Prentiss Foundation Gala, I received a beautiful personal invitation done in calligraphy. To my surprise, the invitation was for both Mel and me. Wendy explained in a call that afternoon, that the arguments and explanations that she gave her parents regarding her relationship with us, referred several times to the fact that she loved each of us.

Her father, billionaire Paul Prentiss, eventually told her to invite the two of us as her ‘dates’. She did, getting one of the family secretaries to send the invitation, complete with a beautiful and fancy envelope.

Mel spent Saturday afternoon with Wendy buying an appropriate dress, lingerie, shoes, cosmetics, body wash, and wrap. I shuddered as I reviewed the handful of credit card receipts that she left me. Her expenditures were about ten times what the rental on my tuxedo was.

A week later, I realized that Wendy had moved a lot more than I realized into our house. She had swapped around closet space with Wendy and Trish, and also had four drawers in one of the long dressers. Further, I observed that she had spent every night in our bed except the one night that she went off to talk to her parents about us. I wasn’t sure what deal she’d made with Cindy or Trish, but one of them seemed to be absent from our bed on those nights. We needed a bigger bed.

Wendy and Mel started preparing for the gala right after they got back from their Saturday morning coffee. They had a simple lunch and then went to the spa for hair, manicures and pedicures, amongst other things. I picked up my rental tux.

Because of the proximity of the day to July 4th, I’d splurged and bought a rather flashy cummerbund on the Internet. The band and associated tie and suspenders, were full of red, white, and blue décor and stars. I would be a walking display of patriotic bunting.

Mel and Wendy were attended by Cindy and Trish as we each started to don our tuxes and gowns for the gala. I was nearly a forgotten entity. They talked about the two of them being Cinderella, going to ball and meeting princes and everything. I was declared the prince that was to keep them from getting into too much trouble.

We took an Uber to the hotel hosting the event. We were met curbside by two dashing young men who politely and delicately helped the women out of the car and onto the red carpet. I followed along, somewhat ignored by the staff. This was obviously an event for the women to show off. There were several photographers along the entry lane frantically taking pictures of everyone.

Mel and Wendy did look spectacular. My wife’s armless dress was red and snug from neck to hips, and then it flared out slightly in various ruffles around her back and along one side. The other side showed a lot of her tanned left leg. The strappy five-inch clear heels she wore were the perfect complement to the dress. I noted that her nail- and to-polish matched the dress, along with her lipstick. She had large hoop earrings on, too.

Wendy’s dress was a strapless lavender number. A band of material served as the bra, and that connected with thin see-through panels to the lower part of the dress just above her hips. The rest fit snugly right to the ground, except one of her shapely legs was also out there for all to see from hip to her beautiful high heels. She was wearing diamond earrings, pearl polish, and had her hair back in a stylish pomp before it flowed down her nearly naked back.

The red carpeting at curbside led us into the hotel and to the grand ballroom. Our names were announced over the PA system in the room as we arrived: “Miss Gwendolyn Ashley Prentiss with her escorts Mr. David Janson and Mrs. Melissa Janson.” Many people did look in our direction, but they were all smiling and welcoming. I figured, ‘So far, so good.’ Another adage came to mind, ‘Fake it ‘til you make it.’

Wendy said as we got into the room, “If you ever call me Gwendolyn, I shall consider that justification to wreak bodily harm upon you.” We got a laugh out of her comment.

Wendy led us to an open bar, and I procured three glasses of wine. I knew Wendy was underage, but so what. She’d probably had had more wine at her age that I had at mine. She was very sophisticated, and greeted many people by name. I was glad that she skipped most of the introductions for Mel and me.

Armed with our wine in one hand, Wendy led us towards raised the stage. She explained, “You are about to meet my parents? Roll with it. Based on our talk a week or so ago, they’ll ask embarrassing questions.” I could feel the faith she had in us that we’d be accepted and also be able to field any questions from them.

Paul and Margo Prentiss oozed power, money, prestige, money, great caring about their daughter, and, oh yeah, money. They were more than just polite in our first meeting. They were cordial and actually friendly, blowing apart my myth about what they would be like – stiff and formal they weren’t.

Margo checked that we were reasonably alone, and asked Mel and I, “Is it true that you really love my daughter ... and that she sleeps naked with you and a couple of others in your large bed?”

Mel and I laughed heartily at the effrontery of the question and I gestured for Mel to answer.

Mel smiled, “We do love Wendy. Our family and even our circle of friends is hard to explain. Dave and I...”

Margo interrupted, “I think I understand more than you realize. I watched your lecture and Q&A in Wendy’s summer sociology class – TWICE. You were so articulate in that special class that I insisted that you both be here tonight. I don’t know whose idea it was that only Dave come as Wendy’s date. This is unusual, but if anybody raises it as an issue, I’ll tell them to fuck off.”

Now, that wasn’t language that I expected the wife of a multi-billionaire to use. It caught me in a funny mood, so I laughed. Margo obviously liked that response. The big ‘F’ had been for shock value, and perhaps as a test. Mel chuckled, too. I think we passed the test.

There was a little back and forth about us, our jobs – which had both been researched, no doubt by a private investigator, and the rest of our family. Mel and I traded doing the responses back and forth.

Paul mostly listened to our conversation with his wife. I was surprised we weren’t interrupted by others more than we were. Clearly, people were respectful of the Paul and Margo.

I’d done my own homework about the Prentiss family and the conglomerate, even evaluating some of the business units that made up his empire. The entire package had just crossed a capitalization of one-trillion dollars. They were big and important on the national and international landscape and were in the news daily for multiple reasons.

The Prentiss family consisted of some grandparents to Wendy who lived in California, Paul and Margo, an older sister named Dallas also on the west coast, and Wendy. Paul’s brother was the president of the Prentiss Foundation, and managed the day-to-day operations of the multi-billion-dollar organization

A waiter came by and freshened our glasses of wine, including Wendy’s. I scanned the huge room, and concluded that Wendy and two or three other young men and women were the youngest there. This event was very adult. Most of the men had significant shades of gray hair, which I didn’t – yet.

Also in my scan, I didn’t see one other person that I knew. I had told Wendy that she was taking us to an event that was ‘waaaay out of our league’, and I’d been right. I was with some very high rollers and had to behave. I was a mere serf to these lords and ladies.

Paul and I had a polite talk about what I might recommend as an up-and-coming stock to invest in. I commented about Genelect, since my investing was open and legal in all regards. I described what I knew about the Massachusetts firm. He asked some deep-drill questions, and luckily, I had the answers, even including some obscure financial statistics about their pre-IPO finances. I could almost see him filing away everything I said in his memory banks. I wondered what would become of that discussion.

I asked Paul some questions about his airline operation and the professional basketball team he owned. He had some insights on both that he shared.

Several other people came by and I was introduced each time, and then Mel when Margo had the two of them join the larger group again. I listened and learned some of the ‘code’ in the small talk that underlay the various groups that came by.

Paul must have thought I was a good confidant. After someone or another had moved on, he said of one couple, “They’d get divorced, except she’d take him to the cleaners. He didn’t do a pre-nup to protect the family money.” After a nice man left us, Paul added, “He’ll slip out of here early to go be with his mistress. She’s a gold digger, but he doesn’t know it yet. There’s still pain to be felt, and it won’t just be from his wife.” I got several other candid remarks about some of the other people we met.

I started to appreciate Wendy’s remarks about everyone at the gala having some dirty laundry to air. I was surprised that Paul was as much a gossip as he was – and so well informed.

MEL

About seven o’clock, some loud chimes rang over the PA system in the ballroom. The jazz that had been subtly playing the background stopped. Margo said that was the signal to take our seats so that dinner service could begin. Margo led all of us standing around nearby up a few steps to the dais and the head table.

“If we start sitting, everyone else will take the hint. Personally, I’m hungry.” Margo was the type of woman that told it like it was: no beating around the bush.

Margo was a pretty woman about fifty – bottle blonde, angular face, perfect make-up; slender and even athletic figure. She was meticulously dressed in a full-length ballgown with not a hair out of place. She was busty, and I knew that she and Paul had been married close to twenty-five years. Based on what Wendy had shared about the overall group, I also wondered what her personal scandal had been – if any.

Paul introduced me to Warren Prentiss, his brother, and an important wheel in managing the Prentiss Foundation. Dave was next to me, with Wendy on our end of things. Paul and Margo sat in the middle of the table, with Dallas Prentiss, Wendy’s sister, and her husband, Trent Robinson on the other side. I hadn’t met them, but we engaged in smiling nods to each other. Dallas appeared to be in her mid-twenties, so was somewhat older than her ‘kid’ sister. We were now thick as thieves.

Dinner started with a small salad, and then the entrée, which was trout almondine cooked to perfection and served over a bed of fresh asparagus. A chocolate torte and coffee rounded out the meal. I couldn’t think of a better meal.

I had polite conversation with Warren, introducing him to Dave. He was Wendy’s uncle, so they were well acquainted. There was no mention of a spouse, so I assumed he was either single or divorced.

Warren and I talked about the local real estate market. He was only interested in the high end of things, and that was my specialty. He warmed up to me, and through me, to Dave.

Just after coffee was served, Paul stood up and took a nearby handheld microphone. He got everyone’s attention, as he put it, ‘Before everyone goes to sleep after that great dinner’.

Paul gave a report about the Foundation, emphasizing the projects and scholarships that they’d funded to the tune of about $250 million for the year, and then the thousands of people that they had helped through various philanthropic projects. I couldn’t think of numbers that large without getting wet. The numbers were almost staggering. I got a deeper appreciation of what Wendy was doing with the scholarships, too. Paul told some stories about follow-up to some of those students who had graduated and were highly productive in the workforce and changing society for the better.

Paul then made a pitch for donations from everyone attending. He used persuasion, guilt, and logical facts to support his request. Further, he set a goal of $200 million for the year’s endowments, stating that they were already halfway towards that goal. There were envelopes on each table ready to accept checks, but I suspected many of the bequests came in other forms of delivery. He thanked everyone for coming, and with a huge wave of his arm said, “Let the dancing begin.”