“If this all goes off well, my friend, you can count on a very lovely Christmas.”
Monty kissed his cheek and whispered, “You are a sexy Santa.”
“Thanks!”
The party had to be perfect. He hired a party planner that he’d used on many occasions, and the man was so good, it was hard for even Benson to get a booking so soon.
It was a good thing that Jarvach Ridge remembered Benson had helped him succeed. He’d been practically nobody in the party planning world until Benson found him and loved his ideas. Benson spread the word, letting the reporters on all the society rags in on his secret planner.
Jarvach came in like a whirlwind, as usual, his bigger-than-life personality there a good three minutes before his body even walked through the door. “Benson Carter, my greatest achievement!”
“Hello, I thought you were mine,” Benson said, laughing, as Jarvach kissed his cheek.
The man could dress. He was in a suit that to the untrained eye looked navy, but on closer examination, would see a subtle layer of the finest red fiber laid over a beautiful dark charcoal. His tie was crimson, and his shirt was charcoal, possibly to hint to the less fortunate what they should be seeing.
“What are we doing this time? Wooing prospective investors?”
“Nothing so grand, Jarvach. I’m producing a play, and I’d like a…well, a get-to-know-each-other party.”
“A play? Dabbling in the fine arts, Benson? I have rubbed off on you,” he said while running fingers through his salt andpepper, perfectly soft and trimmed beard. Benson could smell the product on it as he did that, and he knew it cost a small fortune to keep that beautiful beard so…beautiful.
“You have, dear Jarvach. It will be added to wardrobe fittings, discussions on props and stage decoration, and mostly for the cast and crew to get to know one another outside of the theater.”
“I see, yes, perfect,” he said as he paced around Benson’s living room. “It’ll have to be casual, something to keep them comfy and at ease. Tension of any kind can produce tension between the cast members, which inevitably shows in their performances.
Benson sat on the sofa, knowing this would go on for a while. Jarvach was the type to think aloud, and mostly because he loved the praise he got when he came to his ultimate decisions.
“Candlelight won’t do. We need the wardrobe fittings well lit, but harsh lights cause tension. Soft lamplight, yes, possibly small lamps with lanterns, tall ones with three-foot-tall pillars. Yes, that would be nice. And white. The white will allow the light to glow nicely.”
“Where should we have it?” Benson asked.
“How big is this cast and crew? I’m assuming at the most fifty people.”
“Monty said forty on the nose.”
“Oh! An intimate party. I love it. How about at the Waldorf? I know, it seems so cliché, but this is a cast party, and what is more cliché than that?”
“I think the Waldorf would be lovely.”
“Cliché but cliché for a reason. Some things just…fit. I’ll call Anton and reserve a nice suite, one that will fit the guests well, not too small, not too big, and then I’ll get my caterer. I think…Greek?”
“Greek?”
Jarvach tittered a laugh. “If we’re going with cliché, why not go all the way? The Greeks were the first to do great theater, so why wouldn’t we invite them along?”
“Next you’ll suggest a toga party.”
“Gauche. No kibitzing. If you were good at this, you wouldn’t need me.”
Knowing Jarvach for years, Benson knew he could ask anything. Jarvach saw him struggling, and sat next to him, taking his hand. “What is bothering you?”
“Nothing is…exactly bothering me. There’s a man…”
“Of course there is. There’s always a man accompanying that look. So, who is he to catch the eye of a wonderful guy like you? And dare I say, it’s about time.”
Benson laughed a little at that. “I’ve been busy.”
“I’m not judging. So?”
