“Get da fuck outta here.”
“Excuse me?” Wren laughed.
“No, that’s a good thing,” Rosemary said quickly. She’d chosen a multicolored cotton dress that flared at the waist. It didn’t show as much skin as the others, but she looked good in it.
Nikki was taller than Wren but about the same size. She wore a black silk crepe dress with a butterfly design. The color was masculine and the design feminine, which suited her perfectly. She had the body for it, too. She arched an eyebrow, and for once she seemed a little self-conscious. I smiled and met her eyes, and she actually blushed.
Wren herself looked fantastic in a blue watercolor silk dress. It didn’t show off her chest like Terri’s did, but it was more elegant, especially with sapphire earrings and a matching pendant.
My eyes fell on Christy last. She wore an ivory and gold lace cocktail dress. She didn’t have Terri’s breasts, Wren’s hips, or Nikki’s attitude, but she still took my breath away. Her hair matched the gold lace, and the ivory fabric complemented her smooth, tan skin.
“Wow,” I added superfluously.
“Amazing,” Trip agreed. Then he added flippantly, “So, happy birthday, Paul. Nice to meet you, Dex. Good to see you, Freddie. Y’all have fun without us.” He rose and extended a hand to Wren.
“Where’re we going?” she asked, amused.
“Straight to bed.”
“Trip Whitman, I did not do my hair and makeup just for you to drag me off to bed.”
“You didn’t?” He was joking and she knew it, but she still rolled her eyes and played along.
“No. I’ll let you fix me a drink, though.”
“Done! Ladies? The bar is open. Mix-master Trip, at your service. Who wants what?”
* * *
We moved the party to the front room, where Trip turned on his stereo and put in a mix tape. He and Dex resumed their music discussion from earlier, until Dex went out to his car and fetched a shoebox of cassettes.
He treated Trip to a high-volume lesson in the varieties of punk. Trip soaked it up with enthusiasm. The rest of us didn’t have any choice. I didn’t mind the London groups, like the Clash and the Buzzcocks, but the LA groups were just a bunch of screaming and noise as far as I was concerned. Nikki enjoyed the music, but she had almost as much fun watching me grow more annoyed with each cassette.
“You’re a bad person,” I half-shouted at her.
“I know!”
Christy, Wren, and Freddie were talking and drinking and completely oblivious to the cacophony.
I finally retreated to the dining room, where Terri and Rosemary joined me.
“Who needs a refill?” I asked. “Wine and…? What’re you drinking, Rosemary?”
“Just Coke, but…”
“We need something stronger,” Terri said for both of them, and they shared a laugh. “We’re still in shock from the music,” she added. “Besides, I… uh… might get a little drunk tonight.”
My eyebrows ticked up.
“Me too,” Rosemary said.
“Right! Jack and Coke?”
“That’d be awesome.” “Yes, please.”
I returned a few minutes later with the drinks. We chatted about school and life and summer plans. Rosemary had a job as a lifeguard at a local country club. Freddie planned to live at home and work for a company that installed commercial HVAC systems.
“I want to ask him to move in with me,” Rosemary said tentatively, “but I don’t want to rush things. Besides, my grandma says he’ll never buy the cow if he gets the milk for free.”
“I hate that phrase,” I said. “Women aren’t cows. Sex isn’t a commodity. And marriage isn’t a transaction.”
Rosemary blinked at my vehemence.
“Listen,” I told her, “you and Freddie are adults. Sex isn’t something you ‘give’ him. It’s something you share. The same with marriage. It’s a partnership, not an owner-property arrangement. And you’re just as important as he is. You aren’t some cow,” I said contemptuously. “Besides, Freddie cares about more than ‘milk.’ At least, he does if he knows what’s good for him. If he doesn’t, send him to me,” I told her. “I’ll knock some sense into him and send him back.”
I fell silent and gulped my drink to cover a flush of embarrassment.
“Sorry to get on my soapbox,” I added.
“No,” Rosemary said, “I never realized you were so…”
“Passionate,” Terri finished.
“Right, passionate.” Rosemary sipped her own drink and glanced at the front room. “Do you really think he wants to marry me? He says he does, but…” She sighed. “He respects you. Do you think you could… talk to him, maybe?”
“I could,” I said, “but it needs to come from you.”
“I couldn’t! I can’t,” she added in a more normal tone.
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Rose,” I said gently, “marriage is about communication and sharing. Compromise too. And you need to do it, not me.”
She nodded glumly.
“You can do it,” I assured her. “I’ve seen you do presentations in front of Joska. He doesn’t love you. Not like Freddie does.”
“I know. You’re right. I just…” She glanced at Freddie again. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“You won’t. Talk to him. He’ll listen.”
“Or Paul will knock some sense into him,” Terri added.
Rosemary laughed and blinked back tears. “Thank you.”
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
She smiled at the touch, but also the reassurance. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get all serious.”
“That’s what friends’re for,” I said.
“Thank you.”
Terri caressed my leg with her foot, although she pulled it away before I could react. Then Freddie arrived and completely hijacked the conversation.
“Ay, there’s my girl!”
“Freddie,” I wondered archly, “do New Yorkers do anything at normal volume?”
“Whaddya mean? Never mind. How you doin’?” he asked Rosemary.
She smiled up at him. He was tipsy but not so drunk that he missed the uncertainty in her expression.
“Ay, oh! What’s’a matter?”
“Nothing,” she lied. Then she forced a smile.
“Then why’re you in here?” he asked.
She shrugged. “The music was a little loud.”
“I’ll fix it!” He turned and headed back to the front room. “Yo! Change the music. Something the girls’ll like.” He stood in the living room and shouted back, “They’re takin’ requests.”
“The Beatles?” Terri suggested.
I relayed it to Freddie in a louder voice. He passed it on to Trip and then returned to the dining room.
“Forgot why I was here in the first place.” He brandished two cups. “Christy an’ Wren needed more whiskey. And me bein’ the gentleman I am, I offered to get it for ’em.” He glanced at Rosemary’s half-full cup. “What’re you drinkin’?”
“Jack and Coke,” I told him.
“Right.” He thrust the girls’ cups at me. “You take care of these. I got my lady.”
Rosemary smiled and turned pink.
“Come on,” I said to Terri, “let’s refill these and go be sociable.”
* * *
We spent the next hour talking and drinking and listening to the Beatles. Then I opened my birthday presents. In addition to the bottle of whiskey, Freddie and Rosemary gave me a pocket guide to architecture. He smiled expansively and took credit, but I knew where it had probably come from, so I nodded my thanks to her.
“We didn’t know what to get you,” Nikki said, “so we brought pizza and beer.”
“And I thank you from the bottom of my heart,” I said.
“Or the bottom of his stomach,” Freddie joked. “But, ay, Dex, that pizza’s awesome. Almost as good as New York. Thanks.”
I opened Trip and Wren’s presents next, a small drafting board and a K+E tool set in a small case.