He turned to go but I called him back. I smiled at his worried, open face, more aware of his youth than I had ever been before.
Then again, my thirty-five-year-old husband had sworn by a lucky purple polo shirt. He never played squash without it, even when it started growing holes. Maybe what people say is true: men are always boys. I laid my hand on the shoulder of Joe's worn bomber jacket. 'Joe,' I said, judging his self-image too shaky right now for 'sweetie'. 'I hope you find your lucky eye-patch, but between you and me, you carry all the luck you need inside you. Your music is wonderful. Your singing is wonderful. Everything is going to be fine.'
Joe hung his head. 'I know. It's just a little extra insurance, to make me feel lucky.'
I was about to tug him across the counter for a kiss when Marianne strolled out from the back. I guess hope does spring eternal, because the sight of Joe perked her up at once.
'Hello, stranger,' she said in her best smoke-and-sugar croon.
She wore navy for once, a body-skimming, cleavage-baring velveteen dress. Her hips swayed with her approach and her heels clacked like gunshots on the hardwood floor. Joe winced when she grasped his jacket flaps and spread them apart to expose his nice charcoal suit.
'Don't you look professional?' She tapped the knot of his tie with her long red fingernail. 'Job interview?'
Joe shuffled backwards but Marianne followed without showing the least awareness of rebuff.
'Urn, no,’ he said. 'I've got my first performance tonight.'
'Of course! Your wonderful play.' She pressed her hands together in front of her full red lips. 'How silly of me to forget.'
I rolled my eyes at that. I hadn't told her the date -not because I wanted to exclude her, though that might be a good idea, but because every time I mentioned Joe or Sean she turned bitchy.
'Well, don't worry, Joey dear,’ she said now, leaning close enough to whisk his jacket with her boot-black hair. ‘I wouldn't miss your grand debut for the world.'
'Great,’ Joe said weakly. He took a more determined step back. 'See you there.'
He didn't release his breath until she twitched her way back to the office. I noticed, however, that he was human enough to watch the seductive roll of her behind. He shook his head when she finally disappeared. 'I know she's your friend, Kate, but - yeesh - what a dragon.'
'She's got a crush on you,’ I said, childishly pleased by his disapproval. 'And who can blame her?'
That brought a smile to his face. He pressed a wet, smacking kiss to my nearest cheek. 'I'm the luckiest guy in the world to have a friend like you.'
Me, too, I thought, watching him bounce back out the door. Me, too.
I did not expect such a grand theatre. A buckled wooden stage maybe, or a student auditorium through which Joe's music would swirl like cognac in a plastic cup.
Stepping out of the cab, I looked about me in wonder. Beyond the modern silhouette of the Annenberg Theatre, I saw the softer brick and limestone of the older campus - Ben Franklin's campus. I hoped these privileged academics would be kind to my sensitive young lover. I had my doubts when I read the posters hanging inside the fancy glass displays. They all trumpeted well-known Broadway shows, featuring professional actors.
I turned to Sean with concern tightening my throat, a concern he didn't seem to share. A half-smile lit his handsome face. From the way he dressed at work, you'd never know he owned nice clothes, but tonight he'd trotted out his finery. He wore an up-to-the-minute Gianfranco Ferre suit, a red silk tie, polished shoes and -wonder of wonders - cuff links. With complete self-assurance, he cradled our opening night bouquet. The crinkling cellophane held three dozen red and white roses. I'd told him they symbolised desire and aspiration. He liked that enough not to balk at the cost. Of course, these days neither of us had to stint. Lawyers might be pond scum, but they paid him well.
Sean punched my shoulder. 'You've never been to the Annenberg Theatre, have you?'
I shook my head. 'Never. I had no idea. Look at this crowd. Some of those women are wearing evening gowns!'
Thank heaven I'd let Sean bully me into wearing my emerald shantung sheath. I had feared I'd be overdressed, but now I saw as much silk as denim.
Sean nodded towards a woman with her hair piled elegantly atop her head. 'Most of the dressed-up women are professors. Everyone on campus has been talking about Captain Blood. Our little Joe is about to make a big splash.' His own words energised him. He took me by the elbow and tugged me in the direction of the entrance. 'Hurry up, Kate. I want to find someone to take these flowers backstage.'
'My heels,' I protested with a laugh for his eagerness.
He looked down at my feet and paused for one gratifying moment to admire my ankles. Then he sighed and proceeded at a more gentlemanly pace. 'I don't know why you women wear those things. They're an accident waiting to happen.'