The Place--Chicago
The Time---1934
The Cast of Characters---(in order of appearance)
Christopher (Baby Face) Kirkpatrick
"Fat Lou" Perlman
Juju (Mad Dog) Timberlake
JC (Twinkletoes) Chasez
Joey (Muscles) Fatone
Lance Bass, Cub Reporter
...and a Supporting Cast----of scores, all dressed in beautiful evening clothes, like they stepped out of a glamourous movie.
* * * * * *
Chris had slid into his chair, and was smiling sweetly at the judge, who promptly introduced Chris to the women at their table. "Well, Ah'm just charmed," Chris was saying to the young blonde next to him, who seemed equally pleased to make his acquaintance.
"Judge Foster!" JC said, smoothly putting out his hand. "What a nice surprise, seeing you here tonight." Judge Foster seemed a little less pleased, but he shook JC's hand graciously. "Mr. Chasez, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
"I knew your mother, Madeline Wentworth, of the Maryland Wentworths, I believe?"
"Yes, sir," JC replied. "Mother spoke very highly of you and your family."
"An exemplary woman, an ornament to her sphere. I was so distressed to hear of her passing; my sincere condolences, Mr. Chasez."
"Thank you, Your Honor. I, uh, do hope that I'm not intruding...?"
"Certainly not. May I introduce Miss Sybil Whitehead, and her cousin,
Mrs. William Chatsworth---"
"Miss Whitehead, Mrs. Chatsworth," JC murmured, pouring on the charm.
"This is Mr. Joshua Scott Chasez."
The ladies twittered, and extended their delicate, white hands. "How do you do?"
Suddenly, the judge looked uncomfortable. He had an idea that JC knew exactly who Chris was, but there was nothing to be done but play out the masquerade he had begun.
"And, uh, may I present my nephew Mr. Beau Farrington? Beau, this is Mr. JC Chasez."
"Of the Atlanta Farringtons?"
Chris cocked an eyebrow. "Perhaps you've heard of our fabulous family estate down at Drooling, on the Lapel?"
"Er, BEAU," the judge tried to shoot him a warning look.
"Why whatever is it, Uncle Snooks?"
"Judge Foster, this might sound ridiculous, but I can't help the feeling that *Beau* and I have met somewhere before," JC said, as he slid into the only vacant chair at the table. "Now where might it be?
Hmmm....could it have been at the Harvard--Yale game last year? Or possiby the Princeton Spring Mixer?"
"I DO know a lot of football players," Chris drawled helpfully. "And nobody mixes better than I do..."
"Your Honor, I am going to be downright rude, and snatch your nephew away for a tete-a-tete, and perhaps we can solve this mystery. Do you mind?" And JC gave him a knowing look, that the jurist interpreted rightly.
"Of course, I don't mind. Just bring him back when you're--er, done."
"Thank you so much. Ladies, it's been a pleasure," and JC took Chris by the arm, and they made their retreat.
Grimly, JC kept a tight grip on Babyface's upper arm, steering him through the ballroom, pausing only long enough to shoot a meaningful glance at Muscles. They passed through an open area, into a smaller room adjacent to the ballroom. The music was perfectly audible, but the atmosphere was that of secluded quiet.
Chris jerked his arm free, and said, "You'll wrinkle the material!"
"That's not all I'm gonna wrinkle."
"Oooh, big society man, I'm all scared, what-cha gonna do, smack me with your Blue Book?"
"YOU have no right to be mad."
"...the Hell!? What are you talking about? You try to kidnap me, boss me around--nobody bosses me around, not even my boss! And you call me greedy, and-- What? What are you listening for?"
JC's head was tipped to the side, intent on the sounds floating from next door. "Should be any minute now..."
"What?"
A sweet smile came over JC's face. "There it is. Listen."
A woman's voice was singing--
The two men just stood there and listened for awhile. Chris finally looking up to say, "I remember this. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers danced to it in that movie...oh, what was the name of it? Man, it was pretty...."
As the light and lilting music continued to ease into the room, like a third member of the party, JC stepped closer, and asked, "Ya wanna dance?"
Chris laughed. "Dance? With you?"
"Sure," and JC slid an arm around Chris' waist, and began to waltz him around effortlessly.
"Hey!" Chris gasped. "Are you insane? What if someone walks in and sees us?"
JC leaned closer, and said softly, "I'll have Muscles run em over."
"And people say Mad Dog's crazy."
"Nah," JC whispered. "Muscles is standing right outside. Nobody's gonna walk in on us." He held Babyface a little closer, and moved in a wider circle, leaving Babyface breathless with his expertise.
"Okay, okay, you're good," Chris admitted. "I mean, I barely know how to waltz, and you're making ME look good. What is going on here?"
"You are dancing with a 14 time Ballroom Dancing Champion, my man."
"I believe it, I do. You'd give Astaire a run for his money."
"Well, they don't call me Twinkletoes for nothin; you know."
After a few moments, Chris looked up from contemplating JC's breast pocket, to note: "Hey, they're playing it again."
"Yeah. I told 'em to play it several times. I've got it stuck in my head for some reason..."
"Oh." and Chris looked back down again. It seemed safer to avoid eye- contact with Twinkletoes right now. Besides, it was fun being whirled around like this, kind of like a ride at the carnival, only soothing somehow.
"So. Have you given any more thought to my offer?"
"Uh, NO."
"Why not?" JC inquired reasonably.
"None of your business."
"What if I said I'm making it my business?"
"What if I said Drop Dead?"
"Oh, Babyface," JC murmured, and then he whirled around, and all of a sudden, Chris was being dipped. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something cutting and threatening, but JC was already whispering, "You know I'd never drop you," and looking deeply into his eyes.
To his own surprise, Chris looked back into the clear blue eyes above his own, and said, "Yeah. I know." He nodded then, and repeated, "I know."
"So why then? Why won't you come live with me, and let me take care of you?"
At the sight of Chris just shaking his head, JC lifted him back up, and they began moving around the room again, in time to the honeysuckle sweet strains of the music. "Tell me, Babyface," JC pleaded. "Just tell me."
Chris sighed. "Don't you see? It's not that I don't want to. Part of me really wants to just throw off all my responsibilities, and run away and just have fun for once in my life. I know it would never last, but I also know it would be so good while it lasted, that I would never regret it."
"Who says it wouldn't last?" This, in a low growl directed at Babyface's throat, where JC was currently nuzzling.
"Whatever. I know you think it would last, and you might mean for it to last, but it wouldn't. And then I would be alone. And I'd have to start all over again, and for a lot of reasons, I can't afford to do that."
"There's that word again. Afford."
"Yeah, well," Chris tried to say it lightly, but failed to cover the hurt under it, "like you said, I'm nothing but a greedy-ass whore. It's all about the money. Right, JC?"
The music glided to a smooth halt, and so did the two dancers in the little room. JC looked down at Chris, and said, "No, it's NOT all about the money, Babyface. I know that now. You see, I talked to Jimmy the Weasel today, and he told me a lot of things."
Chris looked a little nervous, and tried to pull away, but JC held tight, his arm still around Chris' waist, and their hands still clasped.
"You see," JC said intensely, looking down into Babyface's brown eyes, "I know *all about* Katie Kirkpatrick."
