English Crackers, Quiet Man!

[The original version of this was typed out at 18 pages, so I pared it down]

The Wrong’s party day had arrived. I saw Quiet Man I think the day before and the plans did not change. He said that Mr. Wrong called him to confirm the party was on as it should have been the week before.

I went home and started my ritual for getting ready. Hot rollers, on. Makeup bag, out. And then the beginning of the rotation of outfit changes. I decided to wear a tight off white cardigan that was bejeweled in silver down the front and around the collar. I wore it opened to the middle of my cleavage. I paired it with a satin dark blue below the knee skirt. I wore open toed satin black pumps.

My hair was curled and worn down on the side. My makeup was flawless as I could manage and I showered myself with Chanel No. 5 as a protest against Angel. I put on a solitaire cubic zirconia stud that was exceptionally large that rested on the top of my collar bone in that semi-circle dip of its center.

I do not care about jewelry. I am not one to wear it and fake, costume jewelry that looks good is fine with me. And this particular fake diamond for some reason fools people into thinking its real. It is very brilliant.

I drove to meet Ricky. So as we are driving along, Ricky is chatting with me. Quiet Man and Fred were going to pick up Ricky’s sister and brother in law. Ricky has two sisters and they are not very attractive but somehow they have managed to marry some of the wealthiest men in America. How? I don’t know.

The valet takes the keys to my vehicle and I get my ticket.

We enter into the cavernous entry way where a chubby girl was collecting coats and handing out tickets. I handed her my black coat. Ricky was trying to get it off of me in a gentleman’s gesture. He also demanded I hand him both tickets for the car and the coat for he was going to take care of them when we left.

Ah, I thought, he is a sweetheart.

So he ushers me into the dining room where the Wrong’s other guests have gathered.

Ricky and I stood together and he offers to get me a drink. This was the part of the night, per the invitation, that was not part of the Christmas Thank You’s-the cocktail hour. Is that not bizarre? The Wrong’s are wealthy and for them to commit this faux pax only demonstrates the tackiness in their haughtiness.

I look around the room and I do not see Quiet Man or Fred.

Ricky was pasted to me. I do not think he knew anyone there, but it made me feel uncomfortable, not being able to roam around the very small crowd and see what I wanted to see.

As I was standing there, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Muse, why hello!”

It was my friend Henry. He was all duded out.

“I called you to make an appointment to speak with you,” he told me.

“Oh, yes, Henry, I got it, but I have been so busy! So sorry,” I told him, “How have you been?”

“I have been fine, Muse,” said Henry.

I embraced Henry hello and introduced him to Ricky. They shook hands.

“Can I buy you a drink, Muse?” asked Henry, “What are you drinking?”

Henry extended this gesture to Ricky who at the same time was going to order us some drinks.

“Why Henry, that is so nice of you. I would like a merlot,” I told him. Ricky was getting the same.

We got our wine and we started to sample the hors d’oeuvres that were going around, and this started the free part of the Thank You part of the evening.

I think Ricky and I were stuffing ourselves with the crab cake on a stick because it did not taste too bad and joking about it being free.

Henry stood his ground, chatting with me.

I then was approached by the girlfriend who had a boyfriend who was using her, or at least that is what everyone gossips about behind her back. She was tiny with a head bigger than what it should be for her body. Quiet Man dislikes her due to her small size, having announced one night that her size disgusts him. “Muse, I no like small women,” he stated definitively. Oh, I thought when I heard that, you prefer the thick eastern block type instead.

She approached me to say hello and we began to make small talk.

This girl, who is really not a girl, but a woman in her late thirties, despite having a fabulous little figure, never dresses in anything that is stunning or eye catching. Her taste in clothes is really, really bad. Her dresses look like Walmart specials. They usually have these terrible patterns all over them and look so busy it makes one’s head spin. She is Tacky.

People treat her with kid gloves because of her user boyfriend, because none of us can be one hundred percent sure if the using is a lot or a little bit, so we err on the safer side, until someone catches him cheating on her.

So I am speaking with Tacky and out of the corner of my eye, I see Fred. He looks odd, his eyes glazed, I thought, but it was hard to see in the darkened room that was dominated by what looked like French whorehouse red that did not reflect the light well.

I then saw Quiet Man who stepped into view next to Fred. They would not see me at first because Henry blocked Ricky and I from view.

“Hello, Tacky,” I heard Quiet Man say to her, as he reached for her hand to kiss it hello, his usual, “you look beautiful tonight.”

Of course I was having a screaming fit in my mind at this.

Quiet Man then noticed me next to Tacky.

I was looking at him. My libido jumped with an excitement I was crushing to contain. He was dressed impeccably in a dark, well made suit. His hair glistening. He was clean shaven and was so handsome he took away my breath. I was trying to not stare at him as he was staring at me.

His eyes were fixated on me, even so noticeable in the darkened, glow lit room. He broke a smile on his face as he reached out to me.

He grabbed my hand, bending slightly before me, as I stood straight. I pulled my hand away from the same routine he just went through with Tacky. He held on, smiling at me.

I started to laugh and looked at Tacky, who was bug eyed with seeing for the first time, my interaction with Quiet Man, which she most likely only knew about from gossip, like I cared.

“Muse,” Quiet Man emphasized, “you look exceptionally beautiful tonight,” as he bent his head to kiss my hand. He looked up at me into my eyes, still holding my hand.

“Please,” I said dead pan to him.

I then ignored this obvious showing of interest from him and went over to hug and kiss Fred hello. Fred was like in some sort of a gaze or something. He and Quiet Man ordered their hard liquor drinks.

Quiet Man then ushered us to our table, where Ricky’s sister, her husband and their daughter were already seated.

The table was decorated very simply and not as elaborate as it should for Christmas.

We each had on our plates a large English Cracker, in bright metallic foil.

We had our drinks with us but our table glasses were filled with some red wine that was the free wine during the free dinner.

“Muse, what is this?” asked Fred.

“Fred, it is an English Cracker,” I told him noting the irony.

“What do you do with it, Muse?”

I could not believe Fred, who used to live in England, did not know what was an English Cracker.

“Fred, you pull it open by yanking on the ends and it holds a surprise inside,” I explained.

“Oh, well then, we will do it!” said Fred, and with that, all four of us, pulled our English Crackers which made gigantic popping sounds which delighted all of us.

I had gotten a silver pen.

As I was examining my pen, Ricky completely disgusted with his surprise, plopped it in front of me.

“Muse, take it,” said Ricky. He had gotten a lipstick holder for a woman, that had the lip mirror in it.

I laughed and laughed at poor Ricky and announced to the table that Ricky had gotten a lipstick case. His sister found the most humor in the gift.

“Ricky, are you sure you cannot use this fine gift?”

“Look, you,” he teased, “I am not gay!”

Fred by this time was practically screaming because he got a money clip. He made a loud announcement about it and was holding it over his head for everyone to see. What was so funny about this money clip, was I think it was actually a fancy paper clip for one’s desk. It was square with an emblem on it with metal teeth for gripping papers. But to Fred, it was a money clip and he felt he was bestowed with a bastion of good luck because of it; yes he did.

“Quiet Man, what did you get in your English Cracker?” I said to him very coyly.

“I get earrings, Muse!” he said as he laughed heartily. I was laughing at him, because it was so funny his English Cracker had earrings.

“Well, it is better than Ricky’s lipstick case!” I volleyed back to him. He was laughing and Ricky was sulking. Getting that lipstick case mulled him into some sort of offending feeling, a sharp contrast to Fred’s carrying on about his money clip.

Ricky’s sister then told me to look into the cracker for the gold crown. I reached into mine and pulled out the foil crown.

“Look Fred, a crown for a Leo!” I told him, “You know you are the king! Can I put it on you?”

I was trying to not laugh because I did not think he would consent.

“Of COURSE, Muse!” he said, “Put it on me!”

So I did. He happily announced to the table he was the King. The King and his money clip were jubilant.

Fred orders more hard liquor for himself and Quiet Man. This was not part of the free Thank You dinner, so he pulled out his wad of money.

“Muse, what do you want?” asked Fred.

“Nothing, thanks, Fred. I am fine with wine, which as you know, is free,” I stated. We both laughed.

“You know my party was the best, right Muse?” said Fred.

“Of course, Fred. At least I did not have to pay for my drink,” I replied.

“No one throws a party like me, right Muse?”

“Yes, Fred,” I droned.

What I finally realized was that Fred’s odd behavior was that he was drunk. Quiet Man told me after the fact, that Fred was drinking in his office in the store, with two young girls, you know being in the Christmas spirit. What he did not expect was that Marsha had unexpectedly come in to the store and all holy hell broke loose. So when Quiet Man went to pick him up, Fred was pretty tanked. That is why they were late arriving at the Wrongs’ affair, in addition to Marsha demanding that she should be going with them to the Thank You party. Apparently Marsha lost that one.

Now, Fred, had taken a fancy to Tacky. His logic was that Tacky’s using boyfriend, ignores her and leaves her alone a lot and Tacky, stupid as she is, would visit Fred in his store and tell him some of her woes, and would be all cutesy as a midget sized girl would be, and turns Fred on, and topped it off with hugs hello and goodbye to Fred.

I was so happy Fred had a Tacky interest so all the gossip would now be on Tacky and Fred, rather than myself and Fred. What a stroke of luck, thank you so much, Tacky. Truly, thank you.

Now Quiet Man, after eating would rise to go out and smoke. So during those sojourns, Fred kept on drinking.

From our vantage point, we could see Tacky sitting at a table with a husband and wife who resemble in intelligence to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Those two are weird. We also saw that Tigo was seated there with his wife. Quiet Man is not happy with Tigo, something I may discuss at some point.

So Fred is getting that kind of overheated/sweaty look you get when you are drinking hard liquor.

“Muse,” he said, “What do you think about Tacky?”

“What?” I said not wanting to have this conversation with him.

“Tacky. I want to talk to her. Do you think she wants me?”

“Ah, no Fred. I told you already, leave that alone. The user boyfriend will not be happy about it and he is coming here too.”

“Muse, should I call her to come here to my table?”

“Oh hell no, Fred. What is wrong with you?”

I then decided to convince the drunk Fred, to go over and say hello to Tigo while being on Tacky’s side of the table and ask if he could join them.

“You think that is a good idea, Muse?”

“Of course I do; otherwise, why would I tell you?” I said to him, hoping he would go over. Tacky deserved having the drunk Fred fawn all over her.

So after about three minutes of convincing and coaching, Fred gets up to go to Tacky. All three us huddle together to watch Fred go.

“Idiot. He is standing next to Tigo, rather than Tacky, “ I observed.

“He stay too long with Tigo,” said Quiet Man.

Ricky was disgusted at Fred’s lack of showmanship in trying to hit on Tacky.

Eventually Fred comes back.

“I told her I would give her a ride home, what you think Quiet Man?” said Fred.

“Whatever you say Freddy,” replied Quiet Man,” but Tacky, she have her own car.”

“Yeah, Fred. She does. How do you think she got here? User boyfriend did not drive her,” I informed him.

“I no care, Quiet Man. I asked her if we can giver her a ride home.”

Oh Geez.

Now, before dinner, Tacky made the mistake of coming over to talk to Fred. She made her second mistake to stop and say good bye to him. He was making direct remarks about wanting her, that Quiet Man cringed. He was trying to make Fred quit it with Tacky, but Fred was ignoring him. So Quiet Man took the position that Fred is doing it to himself and would not be able to distance himself from this behavior he was exhibiting tonight.

It was so embarrassing that Ricky and I were in hysterical laughter.

“Look at that bobble head,” Ricky would whisper to me, that would cause an eruption.

“What he say, Muse?” said Quiet Man as he came to sit by me.

I told him, and he cracked himself up.

As we watched Fred make a fool of himself with Tacky, who he had by the waist, which made her stand in a bent position to get away from his hand on her waist, but not pulling away, Ricky was worried about his what his sister thought. Now his sister was sitting next to Fred and was able to hear everything clearly. We on the other hand, had trouble hearing every hysterical word that Fred was uttering.

“Ricky, of course your sister knows what is going on. What is wrong with you? Can’t you see her laughing that she is almost drooling?”

Ricky is not the sharpest knife in the drawer, despite everyone at the table had their eyebrows raised so high, we all looked like we had bad plastic surgery.

As we were watching a shocked Tacky, as if Fred’s advances were without basis, as if she forgot her flirting with him I myself witnessed at other events, without knowing all the visits she made to Fred’s store since she was now working from home and had all this free time while her user boyfriend was off and running, I was clutching my cubic zirconia. I knew I should not, but the setting was loose and I was able to crunch it to make it squish in and out of the claws that held it in place.

Quiet Man was out having a smoke. Ricky and I hurt from laughing so hard. I told Ricky I was going to go out and hang out with Quiet Man. He wanted to come, so we go out to the tiny porch in front of the restaurant.

I was again fiddling with my necklace. We made small talk and then came back to the table. By this time, Fred had Mrs. Wrong eating out of his hand. Eeww, we thought, but we kept watching.

Quiet Man was sitting next to me again. I was trying to not feel attracted to him. He was drinking the cheap champagne, which was free, and being poured into every fluted glass on the table, even if it was not wanted. He began to lean into me to talk to me, sometimes in whispers, as we shared silly secrets about Fred’s behavior and Mrs. Wrong.

Quiet Man laughed so hard he took the opportunity to lean over to me that his hair touched my forehead in a way that sent a shiver down my body and made my heart beat. I felt the heat of his body bellow towards me and the waft of Davidoff linger between us.

“I know that smell!” I said to him, looking into his eyes.

“What you wear, Muse?” he asked.

“Well, smell for yourself!” I told him, while leaning towards his side. He put his nose near my neck, so that the hairs on my head stood on end, and I felt him smell me.

“What is that?” he asked, while smiling at me.

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“It’s Chanel No. 5, Quiet Man. I love it!” thinking of the stinky Angel.

“It very nice, Muse,” he told me.

We then took up looking into what Fred was doing. Mrs. Wrong was really into him, it seemed and the fodder they produced kept us entertained for a good long while.

Quiet Man was chatting with Ricky’s sister and her husband. I felt him reach under the table as he was talking, and put his hand on my knee. When he withdrew his hand, I would then catch his attention by touching his leg. This carried on for a bit, each of us not outwardly reacting to what was going on under the table, but I could feel Ricky’s eyes watching.

I then leaned back to speak to Ricky and went to feel my cubic zirconia stud. It was not there.

“OH MY GOD,” I blurted out, “I lost my fake diamond!”

Quiet Man started to laugh and laugh. Ricky was laughing but began to help me look.

“Muse, it no here,” he told me.

“How do you know where my fake diamond is?” I demanded.

Quiet Man turns to Ricky’s sister, and tells her that what he found so funny was my declaration about a my fake diamond.

“Muse,” he said as he turned to me, “I heard something drop when we were outside, but I no not what made noise.”

“You heard me drop something and did not tell me?”

“I no know it was yours or what it was. I look when I go out again,” he promised as he went out for another smoke.

I was trying to talk to Ricky’s sister across the table who was also laughing. I saw Quiet Man out of the corner of my eye, and he sits next to me with a thud, and plops something into my champagne. I did not even have to look.

He was leaning on me and I turned to him, so happy he found my stud, to thank him, by cooing words of thanks.

“Muse, you are welcome,” he said, while Ricky’s sister was wondering what surprise Quite Man plopped into my glass.

“Eew!” I whispered loudly to him,” did you clean it before you put it in my glass?”

“Yes, Muse. I wash in bathroom. It is clean.”

“Ok. Good.”

I felt better about it and was smiling ear to ear how he returned it to me. There was something about a man plopping a fake diamond into your champagne. I looked at my glass and admired the fake stone glistening at the bottom of the bubbly.

Quiet Man turned to me smiling, and brushed his face onto mine. He then got up to see what he could do about Fred.

The small crowd had begun to dissipate. The waitstaff had brought coffee and some sort of cheesecake, how French.

I had interest only in the coffee, which I started to drink. Quiet Man had already tasted his and we both agreed it was not that bad.

By this time, Fred had rose from his end of the table and was talking to Mr. Wrong. Mrs. Wrong eventually joined them.

Quiet Man asks me if we can go back to his office to drink and smoke cigars.

“Ok,” I replied. Ricky was in agreement.

So we made plans to meet after Quiet Man drops off Fred. I could not wait to see Quiet Man later and have more good company and laughs.

We all pull out and Fred and Quiet Man were ahead of us. Ricky and I pulled into a gas station grocery mart and picked up coffee and snacks.

By the time we reached the office, Quiet Man calls Ricky. Ricky tells me Quiet Man was down the road, but Fred called him back to his house, and he would be late.

Well, Ricky and I spent the night until 4:30 am talking. I was very upset that Quiet Man did not show up, and Ricky would not call him. He kept saying, listen he will come. He said he was coming and he will come to stop me from leaving. I believed Ricky to the point I went home to change into sweatpants.

When I finally decided I had enough of Ricky’s sex stories, some of which I could not believe, and ALL OF WHICH I told him to clean it up and don’t tell me such things, but since he was drinking more wine at the office, he was not obliging.

“Well, Ricky,” I said as I fiddled with my empty coffee cup, “I am really angry with Quiet Man.”

I took my cup and wrote a nasty note on its cardboard heat shield to Quiet Man, and ended it with “You Suck.”

Ricky was trying to get me to not leave any notes to Quiet Man and the more he tried to discourage me, the more I wanted to leave the message.

“Ok, do you think he will notice this note on this cup?” I asked him.

“Quiet Man notices everything!” said Ricky.

Good. There is not any doubt about my message to him.

So I bid Ricky goodbye and rose from my seat. He finally got the hint. I waited for him to lock up and we walked out into the chilly night.

I was warming up my car while Ricky stood outside the driver side window.

I made him tell me exactly what Quiet Man said. It differed from what he initially told me in that Quiet Man did not promise to return since Marsha was awaiting Fred at home and a blow out between them erupted that Fred required Quiet Man in his corner.

Damned Ricky. I could have been home and in bed by 12:30 am.