“Very fancy,” Cassie whispered to Frankie, indicating the auditorium. “Have you ever been here before?”
“Huh?” Frankie grunted, caught up in her own thoughts. “Oh, yes. My parents brought me to see
Madelaine
Chambers perform
Madame Butterfly
in ’56. It was so beautiful and inspiring to me that afterward I wanted to be an opera singer. I started taking singing lessons shortly thereafter.”
“What happened?” asked Cassie, smoothing a wrinkle in her satin dress.
“The following year I saw Margot
Fonteyn
perform Swan Lake and then I was sure I wanted to be a ballerina.” She glanced down at the stage. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve dreamt of performing here my entire life and now I’m here, sitting in the audience, waiting to see my date perform before the ball.”
“Or your Prince Siegfried,” said Cassie.
“He’s no prince,” Frankie laughed, “he’s a Dark Knight.” She turned her attention below to see all of Manhattan’s most celebrated entertainers, notorious socialites, and powerful politicians in the audience. The lights flickered and the crowd silenced (uncharacteristic from a normal Dark Knight concert).
It really must be a sign of the times,
Frankie thought
. The rock-and-roll Brits have taken over Metropolitan Opera House.
But then she remembered that Mozart had been quite the rebel himself, so perhaps it was only fitting.
The Dark Knights were introduced and were met with a warm and welcoming round of applause. Alex followed Nick onstage and did his normal check of the amplifiers. The harsh stage lights momentarily blinded him, but when his eyes adjusted he was overcome by the vast richness of the red and amber interior of the opera house. The high-class audience seemed eerily reserved and appeared to encircle the stage and loom above him. It was then that he realized this wasn’t a normal concert; this was a concert that would prove or disprove their reputations as musicians to every critical ear in America. It could make or break his career and be the proof to his pop that he had made good on his promise
. I hope I don’t blow it,
he thought.
Alex had never before felt obliged to prove anything to anybody, but today was different. Earlier he had faced the heavy scrutiny of Frankie’s father; now it was time to face the music in front of members of New York’s affluent society. He sighed heavily, wiped the sweat from his hands onto his slacks, and then glanced up to the balcony to see if he could find Frankie. He couldn’t.
On the count of three, the Dark Knights started with their first song, “Circus” Frankie sank in her seat; she couldn’t believe they would open with
that
song. The song had with such rebellious lyrics for an elite crowd. At his cue, Robbie belt out:
Reporter on a high wire
Asks questions he hopes wills inspire
Hidden secrets or provoke ire.
The spotlight shines this dismal light
On us poor slobs with the same plight
We watch amused at the show
The press tripping over its toe.
Promoters juggle acts
Without ever listening to our tracks
Caring only for the money in their sacks.
The spotlight shines this dismal light
On us poor slobs with the same plight
We watch amused at the show
The press tripping over its toe.
Flashing lights from camera clowns
Chase us all ‘round town
Hoping to catch something shady go down.
The spotlight shines this dismal light
On us poor slobs with the same plight
We watch amused at the show
The press tripping over its toe.
Once the song was over, Frankie peered over the balcony to gauge the reaction of the crowd. She smirked, realizing no body was really listening to their music only watching the band.
Too bad they didn’t play “Jester.”
she thought.
The Dark Knights played their customary thirty minutes much more toned down from their normal high-energy performances. When the concert finished and the band took a bow, the audience rewarded them with a polite standing ovation. Alex was sure they had won over more than a few of the naysayers and maybe even Frankie’s father.
Frankie rose to her feet along with the rest of the audience, but not to applaud the Dark Knights as a group; her focus was solely on Alex. Although he was at his best tonight, to the untrained ears in the audience, his playing appeared to blend in with the other sounds onstage. It would be difficult for some to distinguish Alex’s guitar apart from Robbie’s voice, Nick’s keyboard, Peter’s bass, and Josh’s drums. But Frankie not only could tell Alex was pitch-perfect, but noticed genuine emotion in his playing—almost as if his guitar had a personality of its own.
As she applauded for Alex, she secretly wished and hoped that one day the rest of the world would be able to hear him the way she did—a musical tour de force—instead of just another performer on stage being drowned out by the other members of the band.
Ian lightly tapped Frankie’s arm for her to follow him once again. She and Cassie were led down the back stairwell to the hallway outside the dressing room where they waited for Alex. Finally, they could be together for the rest of the evening.
Alex appeared, looking exited and relieved, wearing a big smile on his face. He immediately kissed Frankie on the forehead. “Are you ready for the ball, Cinderella?”
Frankie threw her arms around his neck. “You were so good tonight. I am so very proud to be your date.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush,” he said. “I tried looking for you, but the lights were so harsh—nothing like the dark halls of Manchester or the seedy clubs of Soho.”
“What was it like?” she asked, hanging on his shoulders.
“Terrifying. I nearly pissed my pants.” Judging by Frankie’s reaction, Alex could tell that wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. “I mean, it was life-altering.”
“I’ll bet,” Frankie said. She shook her shoulders and chest at Alex. “Shall we go shake it at the ball?”
Alex grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah,” he said, “let’s hit it.”
The entrance to the ballroom was through a pair or large white lacquered doors. Inside, New York’s affluent citizens could be seen socializing with five working-class lads from England. Frankie was well aware of the irony, and so was Alex. It was still the biggest inside joke the band shared ever since they had made it big—the fact that people who would normally turn down their noses at them were now paying big bucks just to be in the same room. Ironically, the music played during the ball was a series of square old-school waltzes. Everyone had dressed in their finest gowns in tuxedos to hear a rock concert, and were now winding down the evening with the
Blue Danube
.
Never having had a dance lesson in his life, Alex allowed Frankie to move him around the dance floor. Occasionally he stepped on her foot or bumped into some fat lady behind him. He planted his focus on his feet to make sure he was in line with Frankie.
“Look at me,” said Frankie, “and don’t worry about your footsteps.”
“How can I be sure I won’t step on you?”
“You don’t have to worry about a thing as long as you follow
my
lead,” she said with a cocky smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Thankfully there were no prying eyes of gossip journalists or photographers. The wealthy were able to pay to have their privacy protected.
Frankie was sure to keep Alex away from any wayward middle-aged socialite looking for a score. She witnessed a few eyes on him—a few women brushed by, trying to gain his attention—but Frankie proved to be the best deterrent a young man could have in such an occasion. She was beautiful, and if any woman crossed the line, Frankie would rip off her face. Alex, keenly aware, was loving every minute of it.
Frankie guided Alex away from the dance floor to a buffet table where appetizers were being served. Frankie and Alex decided to share a plate and prowl the circumference of the ballroom together, watching the crowd like patrons at a zoo.
“See that woman there with the exposed cleavage?” asked Frankie as she popped a stuffed mushroom in her mouth.
“No, where?” Alex asked with a laugh, seeing the woman standing directly before them.
Frankie smacked in his arm. “The one who has been eyeing you all night.”
“Hmm . . . really?”
“She’s screwing her shrink,” Frankie said. “She’s a crazy; I wouldn’t go near her if I were you.” She then pulled Alex’s attention toward a debonair older man. “That’s her husband. He was an actor for many years; now he’s a director on Broadway.” She stood on her toes to whisper in Alex’s ear, “There is always a hot, new actor on his casting couch. I’d stay away from him, too.”
Alex bit into a cheese puff and then said with his mouth full, “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Frankie put her arm around Alex’s waist and led him around the party while she sipped champagne. “See that fat guy talking up that
young pretty
woman?” she asked. “He’s one of the biggest producers in the city—a real hotshot.” She then whispered, “Rumor has it he’s got a tiny pecker.”
“That’s always the case,” said Alex and then stuffed two more cheese puffs into his mouth. “What about the tall, pretty guy who looking around to see who’s looking at him?” asked Alex.
“That’s Robbie, your band mate,” Frankie joked.
Alex laughed, “No, the
other
tall, pretty guy.”
“Tad Benedict,” Frankie said. “He’s a Broadway actor, singer, and dancer; and he’s completely gueer although he hides it really well. Most girls become discouraged when they find out he’s more interested in their dates than them.” Frankie gave Alex a gentle push. “Let’s move along.”
They stopped back at the buffet table to refill their plate and champagne glasses. Frankie sipped from her glass, making sure she had Alex’s back in case any women decided to wander over. None did. Feeling confident that she had the situation secured, Frankie led Alex back to the ball.
“You see,” she said, “everyone here has an image they’re trying to sell, and most people see what they want to see. Lonely rich women pretend to be faithful wives while, on the side, they’re hooking up with the gardener or their tennis instructor. Industry men constantly find new ways to promote their power and influence in order to attract naive young actresses. And then, saddest of all, there are those ‘aspiring individuals’ who have no game to play or image to sell. They are hopeless in this arena,” explained Frankie.
“Where do we fit in?” asked Alex.
Frankie looked up at him. “We don’t.” Tugging at his arm, she led him to the door and out into the hallway.
“Where are you taking me?” Alex asked, still carrying the plate of food.
Frankie heaved open the heavy exit door in her gown and then pulled at Alex’s arm, pushing him into a stairwell. She closed the door behind them, and then began to lead him up the steps. He followed, knowing that wherever she was taking him was better than where they had just been.
Finally they came to another door, but Frankie couldn’t get it open. Alex set down his plate and managed to wrench the door open, using his shoulder as leverage. They stepped outside and found themselves on the rooftop overlooking the city skyline of Manhattan. Alex had seen this before, but only in movies; he never thought he’d get a chance to witness it firsthand.
“It’s amazing,” he said.
Frankie stood alongside him. “I know, right? It’s where dreams are made and hearts get broken.”
Alex put his arm around her shoulder. “Ah, now we don’t want any broken hearts.”
“Well, it happens. People come in search of a dream; and when their dream falls apart, all that’s left is a broken heart.” She looked up at him with a smile and said, “But this is where you and I belong—on top, above the fray.”
Alex nodded. “You think so?”
She put her arms tightly around his waist. “I
know
so. So many others want to tell us what to do and how to live. They will try to put us down, rattle our chains. But we will always rise above,” she said confidently.
Turning away from the bright lights of the city, Alex focused his attention on Frankie and looked down into her big blue eyes. He had no words in response, only deep gratitude that she felt so strongly. It made him a believer. From that moment on, whatever anyone said to him, he would have stronger conviction.
“Marry me,” he said suddenly.
Frankie burst out laughing, then saw the hurt look on his face and knew he wasn’t joking. “Alex, it’s only been a month.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and stared into her eyes. “What is time?” he asked with a grin. “Besides, do you really think another guy can replace me?”
The questioned frightened Frankie because she instantly knew the answer was no. She only had a couple more hours with Alex until he was to return to England. After that she didn’t know if she’d ever see or hear from him again. She wondered if agreeing to marriage now wasn’t such a bad idea.