Chapter 53

“She would be half a planet away, floating in a turquoise sea, dancing by moonlight to flamenco guitar.”
—Janet Fitch, White Oleander

WITH ALL THE PRACTICE, you’d think they could have warned me. I should have known something was up when Mom handed me a peach colored shirt to wear with my grey suit. And then she tied a matching bowtie on me. Dad came in as I was straightening my vest.

“Ah, just in time, I see,” he said. He held out a pocket watch and chain then tucked the watch in one vest pocket and fastened the chain to a button on the vest. “This was your great grandfather’s watch. It’s over a hundred years old. I’ve kept it clean and running but it doesn’t often get taken out. After the party, we’ll put it back in the case where I keep it and when there’s a special occasion, you can ask for it. You look fine, son. I’m proud that you can help make this young lady’s party special for her.”

He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. I was crying. He didn’t comment on it. Just patted me on the shoulder and left the room. I think there were tears in his eyes, too.

I stayed still—frozen in place. My heart gradually calmed. I knew this watch. Without ever looking at it, I could describe every detail. It was a 1916 Elgin 17 jewel open face pocket watch. It had been my father’s and was given to me on my wedding day to Rebecca. I gave it to my son on his wedding day. And now, my father had placed it in my pocket. It wasn’t a particularly valuable watch on today’s market. I supposed it was probably worth two or three hundred dollars. But it was the most important physical object V3 had encountered yet, even though my guitar was probably worth more.

One day, I would place this same watch in my son’s pocket. Again.

When I entered the hotel party room where Brittany’s quinceañera was to be held, Sophie met me immediately. Mom followed with a bag containing a change of clothes for me. I wasn’t sure what she’d packed. I felt like a peacock in my gray suit and the bright peach shirt and tie.

“Now, just relax here in your dressing area,” Sophie said. “The party starts in ten minutes and the quinces will be announced half an hour after that.”

“There’s more than one?” I asked. This was the first I’d heard of that and I wondered at the size of the ballroom when we walked through.

“Heavens yes. No one family can afford a party this size. There are five quinces. Yours happens to have the added celebrity of actually having her birthday today. So she’ll be the last one announced and you’ll conduct her from here to the podium where there will be pictures taken before the first dance. The first dance will be just the quinces and their escorts. A waltz, of course. Feeling confident?”

“No.”

“Jacob,” Sophie whispered in my ear, “I would never do anything to hurt my dear niece—especially on her special night. But should you ever find yourself in New York, I’ll make you very welcome. There are places in New York where we can dance all night. Vertically or horizontally.”

Oh, shit! I think that was exactly the kind of signal Rachel told me to watch for. Now what? What do I do?

“Sophie, any dance with you would be a pleasure,” I murmured. “Just not tonight.”

“Of course not,” she said. “Here are the other escorts arriving now. I’ll leave you boys to introduce yourselves. Have a great evening!”

I expected Brittany to wear a formal dress. I didn’t expect the volumes of peach taffeta that hung from her waist like a tent. Above the waist, though, the bodice of the dress was covered in peach sequins that made her bust shine like a beacon. And it was the first time I’d seen Brittany’s bare shoulders. The strapless gown conformed exactly to the shape of a very nice pair of breasts. She wore a diamond necklace and tiara. I was speechless.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” she panted, reaching to kiss me on the cheek. She could only get so close and I leaned in to give her access. The skirt had some kind of rigid cage under it to keep its shape.

“Of course, I’m here, girlfriend,” I said. “This skirt is going to make it hard to do much dancing, though. They could have warned me.”

“That’s why Grandma was so particular about our form for waltzing,” Brittany laughed. “You have to maintain the proper distance.”

“That will work for the waltzes, but not for salsa.”

“During the whole first half of the dance, it will be nothing but formal dances. I will dance with anyone who wants to, including all the fathers and grandfathers and lecherous uncles who are here. This dress guarantees that they can’t squish me to them or get fresh. After the formal dances, I’ll change into a party dress and we’ll get wild.”

“Wow! I had no idea.”

“Our final quince this evening is celebrating her fifteenth birthday today. Please welcome Brittany Adams, escorted by Jacob Hopkins.” There was applause and we were in action, ascending the stairway to center stage where I turned Brittany toward the crowd and she curtseyed. Then, the usual bustle of having a photographer and half a dozen assistants arranging us and re-arranging us for portraits and group shots. They were pretty efficient and it took only fifteen minutes before the MC announced the official quince waltz and the five couples moved to the dance floor. I was nervous about stepping on the hem of her dress, but once we started moving, we were a shimmering couple in the lights of the dance floor and nothing else mattered.

At the end of the waltz, Brittany’s father stepped up to us.

“May I?” he said. I handed Brittany off to him as the next piece started and went to the side to wait it out. Sophie joined me there.

“Nicely done, Jacob. Now, at the end of each dance, you will return to your quince, take her hand from the previous dancer and hand her off to the next who asks. If no one asks, you will dance with her. About every five or six songs, lead her over here and I’ll have a glass of water for her.”

“She’s going to be exhausted.”

“You train to run races,” Sophie said. “Brittany has trained to dance all night. Go. The song is ending.”

And that was the way it went for the next hour. I stepped onto the dance floor to accept Brittany’s hand from the man she was dancing with and then hand her off to the next old lech who approached. At least at this stage, no one was soused. The bar was carefully monitored so none of the teens could get alcohol, but the adults were slowly getting sloshed.

After about an hour of this, the MC announced a short intermission for the quinces to change clothes for the after party. He made sure to thank the gentlemen who had danced with the young ladies and reminded them that the next part of the evening was reserved for youngsters on the dance floor and that quinces would be accompanied by their escorts at all times.

Mom met me in the changing room and opened my suit bag.

“Give me your jacket and vest,” she said. I obeyed, carefully removing the pocket watch from the vest before I handed it to her. She handed me the second vest, a classy piece with its own lapels. I buttoned it up and attached the watch properly. Mom took my tie and opened the top button. Sophie stepped up to look me over.

“Are you cold, Jacob?” she asked. Where’d that come from?

“No.”

“Then unbutton your sleeves and roll up the cuffs. You are going to get hot.”

I did as I was told, thinking that this was all a lot more comfortable than the formal dance part. I got a look in the mirror and Mom handed me my trilby. I looked gangsta cool. We still had fifteen minutes to wait for the girls to finish changing. I guess it takes a while to get in and out of those monster dresses. At least a server rolled a big tray of food into the waiting room and we were all able to eat something. Not all the guys were particularly well-behaved and I overheard one talking about how he managed to get a hotel room to take his quince to after the party. Some rather indecorous terms were used and I was about to step up and suggest he silence himself when the door opened and our dates were let in to join us.

“Wow!”

“Don’t tell me you’re speechless, Jacob.”

“Yeah. But wow!”

Brittany had changed, all right. Her new dress was the same peach color as the formal, but it was a lot racier. Still strapless, the band that covered her boobs was straighter across so less décolletage was exposed. But between that and the very short skirt, strips of solid fabric that connected boob strap to skirt were connected by what looked to have been torn fabric. Her skin wasn’t actually exposed because there was a very transparent black silk undergarment. When she put her hand down at her side, Brittany’s skirt only reached to about her wrist. I was amazed her parents would let her out in public in this extremely sexy dress.

“You look amazing,” I said.

“This is why we only dance with our escorts for the rest of the night. Are you ready?”

“Yeah. But, you know? I was counting on a few layers of fabric between us when we dance salsa. Did you manage to get on birth control?” I grinned at her and she blushed prettily.

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” she said primly. “Someone told me you’d already had the implant.” This time it was my turn to blush and I led her out to the dance floor again.

I met a lot more of Brittany’s friends during the rest of the party. We weren’t required to be dancing all the time, but we danced a lot. We also got to eat and talk to our friends. Even though I didn’t dance with them, Joan and Rachel often danced with us—close enough that we could touch. The DJ played music other than Latin tunes, too, so after one particularly racy salsa dance, I pulled Brittany to me and held her close as we slow shuffled to the music.