Chapter 70: Dinner and a Show

As they did so often, the Murphy family sang along with the music on the radio. The Murphy parents both enjoyed all genres and encouraged their children to listen to all types of music. Juanita had her favorites and listened to them with the specialized music channels through the cable provider. She preferred the popular hits from the 1980s and 1990s, while Raymond also preferred that and rock music from the 1970s.

The patriarch of the family steered into a parking lot nearby the restaurant.

“Where are the Matthews?” Juanita asked when they started exiting the SUV.

“I dunno. I lost sight of them when we got downtown,” Raymond answered. “I hope they don’t get lost.” Raymond was about to turn off the car when the next song started.

“Ain’t nobody dope as me. I’m just so versatile. So fresh and so clean, clean.”

The four family members immediately smiled at each other and closed their doors rather than exiting the car. A couple of minutes later, the family left the parking garage and were still singing along with the song for themselves and comically strutting along. They all knew the words well, and their perfection brought happiness to them all.

“Ain’t nobody dope as me. I’m just so versatile. So fresh and so clean, clean.”

Tim had taken his sister’s hand as they all crossed the street toward the restaurant, continuing to sing and dance.

Nearing their destination, from the opposite direction, were four stunning women and their escort, laughing openly at their neighbors strutting like in a fashion show. The Murphys saw their friends and kept singing, “Ain’t nobody dope as me. I’m just so versatile. So fresh and so clean, clean.”

“Are they always like that?” Martin Matthews asked, between laughing and holding open the door for everyone. Tim waited to enter last and held open the door, his hand high above the heads of either father.

“Only when they are together, and they hear a great song,” Juanita exclaimed as she hugged the Matthews matriarch as a welcome in the restaurant’s entryway.

The restaurant screamed upscale steakhouse. Rich, dark wood was everywhere — the tables, seats, bars, and even on the stairs. Martin and Raymond worked their way to the front of the large group to talk with the maître d’ sitting behind his pedestal. He was busily looking over seating arrangements on a tablet computer.

“Ah! Mr. Matthews, welcome back! It’s been too long!” the maître d’ exclaimed.

“Good to see you as well, Maurice. How’s Janet?”

“Oh, she is fine, Mr. Matthews. Doing just fine. I’ll tell her you were in tonight, and she’ll be pissed she chose tonight to take a night off.” Both men grinned while shaking hands. Mr. Matthews spun to the side and pointed to Raymond. “Well, remember I told you we were thinking of moving out of the old house?”

Maurice, the maître d’, nodded in recall.

“Well, we lucked out, amazingly, and gained these wonderful people as neighbors. Maurice, this is Raymond and Juanita Murphy.” The two quickly shook hands with the maître d’.

“This lovely young lady is their youngest, Carmen.” She waved from her brother’s side just behind her parents. “And last but not least, this is their fifteen-year-old son, celebrating that occasion this very evening, Tim.”

“Fifteen?” the maître d’ questioned, and Timothy gave him a firm handshake, but Tim was prodded by his internal friends as his shyness reared its ugly head again.

“Say something, stupid,” printed out across the bottom of his vision and quickly disappeared.

“Sorry, a little too strong.”

“Oh no, son, don’t ever apologize for a good, firm handshake. They are too far in between. I am glad you held up a little to let me keep using my hand for the night.” Everyone smiled with a few giggles from the triplets’ and Carmen’s direction.

“Well, Martin, Bob left me a note saying your party was coming tonight. Again, he wanted me to apologize for the chef’s table, but we do have you seated this evening directly across from a few special celebrity guests coming in tonight.”

“Who?” Tim couldn’t stop the “rude” question from firing out of his mouth.

Maurice looked down at his pad and flipped a few pages, stopping with a recognizable picture on the screen. Tim’s gasp was the first indication to the rest of the party that the celebrity due for dinner might be recognizable to them all.

At that, Maurice held up the tablet enough for everyone to see the screen. The Matthews triplets’ gasps were much more noticeable. The wives nodded knowingly but didn’t otherwise react. The fathers looked to the tablet, then each other and simply shrugged, not recognizing the young lady on stage in front of a rowdy crowd of pre-teens on the screen.

Initially, Olivia King sprung into popularity as a member of a favorite after-school sketch comedy team on the Disney Channel. She eventually grew up or, more factually, out of the show. The corporation built on her success by gifting her a show of her own on the same channel, placing it in the schedule right after her former TV show.

The auburn-haired singer/songwriter/actress won early acting praise from critics despite the cookie-cutter format of her show. It was a half-hour comedy featuring her and a small group of friends growing up and attending high school together. A special episode in the second season of her hit show, “Olivia,” sparked a massive change in the young actress’ life. That is when she met the young man whom Olivia declared in many interviews to be her soulmate, Christian Young.

Christian Young was the given birth name of popular rapper YungBalla69. YungBalla69 rose to internet fame with a series of outrageous music videos for several of his rap videos. They featured hedonistic fantasies of young, inner-city youth attempting to better their lives using rules learned on the streets. All kinds of debauchery and illegal drugs use were promoted in videos titled “Foot-long Gummy Worm,” “Cock Rang,” “Murda Ain’t Shit,” “Cuck Fluffer,” and his biggest hit to date, “Love in the Wrong Hole.” Street gang affiliations were all regularly flaunted in these videos.

According to several interviews, Christian Young was an average, everyday businessman behind the scenes, but when his alter ego, YungBalla69, was needed, it came out full-blast. This was highlighted in something Olivia said in an article for People Magazine, “Chris is a great guy, but unfortunately, for his own success, he needs YB69 to continue to be successful, and along the way, he has created enemies.”

YungBalla69 surrounded himself with several gang members in his many music videos to fuel rumors of gang involvement. Those videos were so vulgar and violent that many websites banned them. In response, YungBalla69 turned most of the money he had earned up to that point and created his own portal website, Stoopid, featuring his videos. The site grew rapidly and became a trendy web portal. Within a year of its creation, Stoopid joined the vaunted echelon of video hosting sites such as YouTube, TikTok, Vimeo, and Facebook, making Christian worth at least a billion dollars.

Christian, the budding businessman, began signing new up-and-coming artists, aligning the new, young rappers with him and showcasing their equally-bombastic music videos on his site. The business world celebrated his business acumen.

A byproduct of YB69’s involvement with some gangs and the apparent antagonizing of several others was security becoming a significant issue for Christian and his girlfriend, Olivia King. Christian had begun pulling away from the rap scene and left it to younger and hungrier artists, but the roads he burned to his riches started catching up to him.

Paparazzi had captured him in photos with a group of at least five professional bodyguards as well as several former gang members who had been with YB69 since his early days. At least Olivia King was smart enough to hire her own security, and the two companies regularly worked together to secure entertainers in concerts or while acting.

“Martin Matthews! While I live and breathe! Holy hell, my friend, how are you?” A tremendous yell came from a man standing at a door before the kitchen. “You old so and so!”

The large man excitedly jogged up to the group who had just sat at a small table in the bar area. They were waiting for their table upstairs. The adults chose their preferred alcoholic drinks, while the children all got their choice of age-appropriate beverages.

“Mark!” Martin exclaimed as he jumped out of his seat and hugged the big man. The man looked as though he had long enjoyed the rich offerings of his kitchen. Mark finally let go of Martin, kissed Emilia’s cheek, and hugged her like old friends. He did the same for each of the Matthews triplets. “Damn, Martin, I’ll bet you have one hell of a time beating away all the young men sniffing around these young ladies, now don’t cha?”

“Well, it’s not that bad yet, but they just passed their driving tests, and we are here to celebrate along with our newest friends,” Martin gushed to his old friend.

“Mark, these are our new neighbors and friends, the Murphys.” The two men walked around the table to stand next to a rising Raymond. “Mark, this is Raymond Murphy, his lovely wife Juanita, his oldest Timothy, and the cute one on the side is Carmen.” The Murphy family and Mark Bohanon quickly said their hellos.

“Sorry about the wait, Martin,” he offered as he turned more toward the whole table. “Well, really sorry to all of you, but we had to move some tables around to accommodate the celebrity coming in tonight. Her manager called and said they were on the way.”

A woman in a chic suit walked up behind Mr. Bohanon and briefly whispered to him. Bohanon got excited. “Great! Thanks, Rebecca. I’ll go ahead and bring these friends up. You can keep an eye out for the other party and bring them up whenever they arrive. Don’t try to force them into the bar first. Just bring them to their tables.”

She nodded her understanding and moved toward the front door. She failed when trying not to stare at Tim. He smiled when he saw her look his way, and she was flustered but covered up quickly before moving along.

“Do women do that to him a lot?” Emilia turned to Juanita and whispered.

Juanita nodded and whispered back, “I’m surprised he acknowledged her looking his way. He usually doesn’t even notice it. When you walk with him, it’s hard to not see almost every woman in sight looking at him.” They both held their giggles to normal gossiping volume levels.

They each got up from their seats and carried the drinks with them as they followed Mark to a large staircase beyond the bar area. Once at the top of the stairs, despite this being the dining room, a large space devoid of chairs or tables served as a deterrent to those wandering to the tables on the other side of the room.

After the owner led them across and to their table, each person sat down. Martin held the seat out for his wife, then moved over to hold the seat for one of his daughters. Raymond did the same for his wife. Tim figured out what he needed to do, so he held out the chair for his sister. She was in danger of never being able to remove the smile from her face. Before he sat, Tim also pulled out the chairs for the other two triplets. Everyone smiled at each other and began perusing the menus handed to them.

“My goodness! I didn’t even notice your son before, but my, he is a big one. Probably playing football at UTSA or something, huh?” Mr. Bohanon asked Raymond when he handed him his menu.

“Oh no, that’s the birthday boy. My son has turned fifteen, and we are here tonight to celebrate. Not only that but also my wonderful children have both come home with all As on their report cards. I think those are a couple of good reasons for a family night out, don’t you?” Raymond bragged to the restaurant owner.

“Sure sounds like it to me,” Mr. Bohanon agreed. “Fifteen?” Everyone at the table nodded and looked to Tim, who turned as red as the glass in his hand.

“Oh, wait. I remember seeing something about a football star here in San Antonio from, um,” he paused and began snapping his fingers to catch the memory. “I saw it on ESPN. Mayhem, right? Is that you?”

“Guilty as charged,” Tim said, trying to tone down his blushing. He thought he could get his friends to do something about that.

“Hey, Martin, maybe we can steer our football-playing friend here toward the old alma mater, huh?” He nudged his friend on the shoulder at that announcement, and everyone politely giggled. At the same time, a disturbance was heard coming up the stairs and into the restaurant dining room.

A large, black man in a well-tailored power suit was shouting into a cell phone. “Yeah, well fuck that mother fucker! You tell that asshole to take his punk ass to the venue and have him make sure everything is set up the way we want it, and tell that motherfucker I got my list of riders, and if that asshole don’t have everything exactly as written, well, we gonna fuck him up, take the cash and jet outta this ass-backwards podunk town. You feel me?” The man violently ended the call on his cell phone with a stab of his finger and handed it to another man dressed in black standing behind him. “There we go, now. Liv, does that make you feel better? We’ll get it all taken care of for you. You feeling good, baby doll?”

“Yes, that’s fine, Gene, but can you cut it down a bit on yelling at people on the phone and all your cursing?” Olivia King ventured quietly. “You’re making a scene. This city is not that bad. Besides, I’ve been looking forward to this meal for a couple of weeks now. I heard the steaks are supposed to be great.”

“No problem, honey. I’m sorry. You know I get a little worked up when they start trying to scrimp on the stuff we agreed to contractually. I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of your nature. You should be getting everything we have contracted with them. I mean, they agreed to it, so they should give it to us.”

“Oh, please, Gene. Christian doesn’t like M&Ms. There is no need to have them get one thousand yellow M&Ms divided equally into two crystal bowls,” Olivia grumbled. “He’s just causing trouble and putting my name on it.” Gene nodded solemnly, and both turned at the much louder disturbance coming up the stairs.

First, five men wearing black Adidas tracksuits entered the room behind Olivia and her entourage, and then two more sets of five bounded up the stairs. Finally, five more men, these in black business suits, climbed the stairs alongside YungBalla69 in his full-on bombastic self. He was screaming into one cell phone while looking at another held by one of his ever-present hangers-on friends.

“Naw, son! That shit ain’t right, homie. Dat fool gots to do right by me. My girl loves on yellow M&Ms, so if my girl wants yellow M&Ms, then my girl gets yellow M&Ms. And Tre’, make sure they divide ‘em up perfectly,” YungBalla69 said, started laughing maniacally. “Motherfucker knows I’ll be counting that shit myself!”

He ended the call and tossed the phone up and behind him. One of the hangers-on in the back caught it and quickly passed it forward. A friend placed it into the pocket of the only normally-dressed one in the bunch.

He was the one holding up the other cell phone for YungBalla69 to look at pictures. YB69 would look and then swipe left for most of them, but occasionally he would swipe right. The pics he was perusing were taken by the road crew of the early-bird girls already lining up, attempting to get backstage. Maybe they could get themselves invited to the legendary after-show party.

When the group got to the top of the stairs, YungBalla69 realized his woman could see what he was doing, so he motioned for the phone bearer to put it away until later.

“Well, don’t this look nice,” YungBalla69 said loud enough for that whole side of the restaurant to hear. “Damn girl, you were right. This place is legit,” he crowed. YB69 then made a comically unnecessary gesture to sniff the wind. “Oooh wee! That smells like the bomb. Now I can’t wait for my steak. Shit, they best go ahead and cut that heifer in half, barbecue that bitch, and put it on my plate. This motherfucker is hungry!”

When he finally sat beside Olivia, she put her hand on his thigh. He had a Pavlovian response and seemed to shrink into his formerly non-existent shell. He meekly leaned over, the street-tough braggadocios YungBalla69 disappeared, and Christian Young made his first appearance of the night. “I’m sorry, babe. Got a little out of it there. Have your guys ordered yet?”

“That’s okay, babe. Just remember you only need to be 69 when you’re on stage or shooting some kind of publicity. I want to be around Christian, not YungBalla69,” Olivia explained.

“Of course, my love. Anything for you,” Christian promised. “So, did you order yet?”

“Nope, we were waiting on you to get here so we could order together. Let’s order quick and get our food so we can relax before the show tonight.” The genuine smile on Christian’s face showed his sincere love for his woman. A hasty kiss on the cheek and the menus appeared before them.

Across the room, Tim could only think of something about which his father had joked with him before his transformation. “The key, of course, is the sincerity. Once you can learn to fake that, then you can rule the world.”

“Say, Rodney,” YungBalla69 was back in force. “I thought you said we was gonna have the place to ourselves. So, like, we didn’t have to sign no autographs or nothing,” the skinny rapper challenged, loud enough to be heard by everyone on the floor, including the two families sitting several tables away.

“Sir, you know my name is Eugene. Why do you refuse to use my correct name?”

“Aw, shit, son! Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m just fuckin’ wit you!” The hangers-on and the unprofessional security found their leader’s remarks hilarious. He did bring his volume down a bit before asking again. “But seriously, yo, why ain’t we all alone up here?”

“Well, the price to buy out a fine restaurant like this on super-short notice would have been too steep, monetarily. So when they suggested a cordoned-off section for our meal, we took them up on their most generous offer,” the businessman sitting on Olivia’s other side answered.

“What?!? So more cash, and they’d have closed the place for us? Well, shit, you coulda told me, and I’d broke out the righteous paper for the privacy,” YungBalla69 bellowed.

“It would have cost over six figures to close the restaurant completely on a night they were looking forward to having many patrons come here first, then go see yours and Ms. King’s performance later this evening,” Eugene answered. That figure seemed to placate YungBalla69.

The waiters took the orders and served drinks. Several bottles of expensive wine and hard alcohol, primarily, began pouring like a terrible recreation of medieval royalty.

Tim was having trouble keeping up with the conversation at his table because he was paying more attention to the tables across the room. “Aargh. Timothy, they asked you a question.” Tim’s mother, Juanita, looked across the room at who Tim was undoubtedly eyeing.

“Well, Timothy, if you can’t take your eyes off that poor thing over there long enough to pay attention over here,” Juanita said over the table. Tim’s blushing kicked in again. It soared to a fevered pitch when his mother stood up from her seat, circled the table behind her son, and tried to pull his chair out from under the table. Tim took the hint and scooted the chair out.

“You sit over there, and I’ll sit here. Maybe then you’ll keep your attention where it needs to be ... right here,” Juanita commanded emphatically.

No one ever accused Tim of being stupid. Since his transformation, he was usually charged with being too smart for his own good. “Yes, ma’am,” he timidly responded as he held open the new chair for his mother and helped scoot her into place. Then he circled the table and took his new seat with his back turned to the celebrities.

The restaurant owner returned to his friends’ table to give them some bad news in the hope they would understand. “Hey, Martin, Raymond, I got a little bit of bad news. I hope you can go along with me on this,” he started. “The celebrities have a concert later tonight, so I need to put their orders in first, and your orders need to hold on for a while. I know you all are still looking over the menus, but if you could see your way to give us an extra half-hour or so. They look like a hungry group, and I think you can agree it would be best if we could get them outta here and into someone else’s hair as soon as freakin’ possible.”

“Oh, no problem, Mark,” Martin assured his friend.

“No problem whatsoever. We’ll just keep up the conversation, and if you can keep the cups full, we’ll gladly wait for our turn,” Raymond added.

Mark Bohanon put his hands over his heart and patted his friend on the back. “Thanks, everybody. I was sure you would understand, but I just wanted to explain what was going on. Just letting you know we don’t usually take so long on your orders. It’s something the kitchen takes a lot of pride in.”

“No problem, Mark,” Raymond again assured the slightly-nervous host. “Keep us in drink, and we can entertain ourselves.”

“Excellent idea,” Mr. Bohanon said and looked up at the table’s server. “Vanessa, the drinks are on the house for this group here.” He clapped his hands and then leaned over between the two dads. He put a hand on the outside of his mouth and whispered. “But keep it within reason.” Everyone laughed, and another round of drinks for the group came around.

“Carmen, I forgot to tell you earlier, but that dress is beautiful. Is it new?” Emilia Matthews asked as the new round of drinks was served.

“Oh yes, thank you,” Carmen answered excitedly. She looked to her mom and got an almost imperceptible nod of assurance. The nod of confirmation was to show the fourth grader that she answered the query correctly and with proper manners. Proper etiquette got drilled into the Murphy children from an early age. Juanita took almost as much pride in that as Raymond now took in explaining his son’s athletic acumen.

“Yes, it is a new dress. Mommy and I went to the mall and looked in just about every store until we found the perfect one.”

The triplets all offered their admiration of her new dress. “Not only is your dress beautiful, but your hair is amazing,” Emilia gushed to the youngest person at the table. “Your father said tonight was a celebration for both you and your brother. We know it’s his birthday, and anyone who has seen the sports section on the news knows about your brother’s win there. What are you celebrating?”

“Oh, well, with my brother’s help, I’ve been getting straight A’s for all my subjects this year!” The table began clapping for the precocious youngster, and she sucked it up like a sponge, but she continued to share the credit, “At night, when he comes home from practice, we’ve been working more on my homework, so I’ve been doing a little more work than just the assigned homework. He’s been quizzing me more in-depth on whatever we are studying, So when I took the tests in class, I understood so much more.”

“You see, that’s why we should have probably ordered this food, and we could have eaten it in the hotel room. Then we wouldn’t have our meals interrupted,” YungBalla69 announced to everyone in his entourage. It was loud enough to carry easily to the other tables.

The smile on Carmen’s face morphed quickly into a frown. “I’m sorry if I was too loud,” she mumbled.

“You were not too loud, Carmen. That guy is just a horse’s rear-end, and no one taught him good manners in front of others,” Emilia quickly offered. “You should be very proud of your good grades. Good grades can get you to where you want to go in life.”

“Say, I didn’t even finish high school, and I gots everythang I needs right here,” one of the track-suited thugs bellowed while waving a large stack of dollar bills in his hand. The other fellows in the group openly encouraged their friend.

“Jerome, cut that shit out! You know damn well if I didn’t take care of your ass, you’d be in jail right now, taking it in your ass from every motherfucker in there instead of every other one like you do now,” another track-suited thug commanded. The others all openly laughed and pissed off their friend.

“Christian, please tell your guys to settle down. We are in public, and anyone can tape y’all acting like inconsiderate fools,” Olivia begged while holding her hand on Christian’s thigh. It seemed to be the way she got his attention.

“Awe, they didn’t mean nuthin’ by they clownin’. Shit, I thought that shit was funny, too,” YungBalla69 answered his woman as he covered her hand with his own. “Now, if you really wanna have some fun, just inch that hand a little higher, or if you want, we can go to the restroom like that place in Denver,” he implored with rapid blinking.

Olivia King was not amused. She pulled her hand off his leg, removed the linen napkin from her lap, crunched it up into a ball, and threw it at YungBalla69. When it lightly bounced off his chest, he began laughing uproariously, which set off everyone else in his posse except for the five professional security guards who never stopped looking for any problems around them.

“Aw, come on, babe. I was clownin’ with you. I didn’t mean nothing by it,” YungBalla69 proclaimed between bouts of laughter from him and his posse.

“Fuck you, you asshole!” Olivia got up from the table and gathered up her purse. Soon after, the manager, Eugene, and her five security guards followed as she got up from the table.

Christian Young realized he had a real problem on his hands. He jumped out of his seat and grabbed Olivia’s arm before she could get far from the table.

“Oh, come on, baby. I was cutting up and having some fun with my friends. I’m sorry if we went too far. We’re just getting mentally ready for the show tonight. You know I go a little bit crazy before a show, babe,” Christian Young was using his tried-and-true method of doing what he wanted and asking for forgiveness later. Once again, it worked as Olivia and then her entourage following her lead, retook their seats.

“You know I hate it when you don’t act like you have some sense. Your ‘boys’ are making fun of a little girl over there, and there was no need for it,” Olivia pleaded with her boyfriend. “Get your guys under control, or I won’t wait for you to get back to the hotel after the show; I’ll just go on to the airplane and get going to Miami. You can pick one of the early bird bitches to have a good time with.” Olivia was getting upset but fighting to get herself under control.

“Your right, boo. You’re right,” Christian apologized. He turned back to his boys. “Yo, Fred, you need to apologize to that family and offer to buy their dinner or something for the stupidity coming out of your mouth.” Fred looked around at the others trying hard not to laugh out loud at their friend having to apologize for his behavior. That was something none of them wanted to do.

“Yo, fuck that!”

He lifted the tracksuit jacket just a couple of inches, showing the handle of a pistol tucked into his waistband. No one had noticed the professional bodyguard sneaking up behind Tracksuit Fred. When the gun handle appeared above his waistband, the bodyguard pushed it down into his pants, making it fall into his pant leg, where it would be almost impossible to pull out. He simultaneously grabbed Fred in a choke hold from behind and waited a few seconds as the man slowly went limp.

All eyes focused on what had happened at the table. The bodyguard was one of Olivia’s, and she nodded her approval as Tracksuit Fred was dropped unceremoniously back into his seat. The guard efficiently retrieved the pistol, emptied its ammunition, and returned the gun to the leader of the tracksuits.

Everyone at their table retook their seats as several waiters and waitresses began piling out of the kitchen carrying several orders for the celebrities’ table. The serving started, and the excitement died down again as everyone concentrated on their steaks and side dishes.

A few minutes after the celebrity party was served, Mr. Bohanon returned to the table with several other servers and delivered what was promised to the Matthews and Murphys – perfectly cooked steaks and sides. The decibel level from both parties dropped while everyone enjoyed the food.

However, the peace was short-lived as everyone overheard another commotion from downstairs. “Liv! Liv! Are you here? Come on, check your phone, honey!” A beautiful young woman with three other – not as attractive but still stunning – women and two security guards following closely behind ascended the stairs into the dining room.

“Holy shit, Leni! Is that you?” Olivia exclaimed. The women made eye contact with each other from across the room, and soon enough, both women were reproducing shrieks of joy only dogs could hear. Their embrace began with a hug, faux kisses on each cheek, and another, deeper hug. “Leni Klum, as I live and breathe. My goodness, girl, what are you doing here?”