He shrugs. “There’s things I like and things I miss back home.”
I turn sideways in my seat so I can see him better. “Out of all of the places your parents could pick, why Shreveport, Louisiana?” It’s the same thing I’ve wondered about my grandfather.
Paolo laughs. “We had some family who moved here a few years before us. One of my cousins got accepted to physical therapy school at University Health. My parents kept hearing about how nice life was here, so we moved. They opened a restaurant similar to the one they had back home, and it’s done well. Mom got involved with this Christmas party when we first got here as a way to get to know people, and she’s now on the board or something like that.”
My phone beeps and I scramble in my purse to pull it out. “Sorry, I’m expecting a message from my sister. She’s a few weeks away from having her first baby and she’s on bed rest.”
“Is she okay?” he asks.
“I think so,” I mutter as I open her message.
MARGOT:Olivia sent me a pic of you. You look so beautiful
ME:Are you ok? Haven’t heard from you all day!
MARGOT:I’m fine. Had to go back to the doctor. But I’m home now. Just tired. Send me some pics tonight. And have fun.
ME:I will.
I’m just about to put my phone back in my bag when it dings once more. But it’s not a message from Margot.
JUDD:Don’t forget about the challenges.
I roll my eyes and slip my phone back in my bag. Turning to Paolo, I say, “So there is one other thing you can help me out with.”
Paolo told me the theme to this year’s party was “Feel the Beat,” so I’m expecting something music-related, but I’m not expecting the group of singing Elvises that are on the curb next to the valet stand. We’re barely out of Paolo’s car before it’s whisked away. There’s a desk to one side with a woman dressed like Madonna from her early years. She squeals when she sees Paolo.
“You made it!” And then she looks at me and squeals again. “Sara said you were adorable and she was right!”
Paolo turns toward me. “Sophie, this is my mom, Riya.”
“But you can call me Madonna tonight!” She slaps some wristbands on us and hugs Paolo across the table. “Y’all have fun!”
We walk past the Elvises, who are belting out “Hound Dog,” and stop in front of a small—verysmall—building next to a large group of people. It’s not really even a building. It’s more like a box with a set of double doors on the front. And we’re all just standing in front of it.
“What is this?”
Paolo laughs. “The elevator.”
I look around, but there’s nothing else. “Where does the elevator go?”
Paolo squeezes my hand. “You’ll see.”
When it opens, there’s man inside who’s a dead ringer for the lead singer of Aerosmith. He holds the doors open and says, “Going down?”
I giggle and we load as many people inside as possible. As soon as the doors shut, the Steven Tyler look-alike starts belting out “Love in an Elevator.” He sounds just like the original.
“This is wild,” I stage-whisper to Paolo.
“We haven’t even gotten inside yet.”
The elevator doors open up and I scoot in close to Paolo, afraid of getting swept away with the crowd. It’s packed, but the ceilings are so high and the space is so big that it’s not claustrophobic.
“There was a building that stood here years ago, but it got torn down,” Paolo tells me. “This space was the basement someone refurbished about ten years ago.”
There’s so much going on at once that I almost can’t take in what I’m seeing. The space is divided in sections, like big rooms. Each section has a musical theme.
“Let’s check it out,” Paolo says, and pulls me along. I think there are as many people working the different areas as there are guests. There’s a fifties area complete with girls in poodle skirts dancing with guys in leather jackets, a hall with enormous masks of the painted faces from KISS, a room that’s purple from top to bottom with a Prince look-alike belting out “Little Red Corvette”…It goes on and on. By the time we get to the back of the space, we’ve gone through ten different staged areas. And roaming through each space are entertainers: a girl on stilts, acrobats, and even a man swallowing fire and then blowing it back out.
