Cater-Waiter

Nolan Delaney was working as a cater-waiter for the Calder-Grey event.  The winery had been asked to feature some of their top rated bottles and Nolan never missed an event if he could help it.  He’d probably have been invited through his parents anyway—Ethan and Evelyn Delaney had been clients of the late Sebastian Calder Esq.  And the Delaneys were members of the horticultural society with Mrs. Calder as well as members of the boards of several common charitable organizations together. 

So he was and wasn’t surprised that his older brother was in attendance.  On the one hand it made sense: half the town was there and with their parents’ connections it wasn’t exactly a stretch that Jonah could wrangle an invite.  However this sort of event was decidedly not Jonah Delaney’s scene.  He was an elementary school teacher for Chrissake.  He was a bit of a nerd.  A bookworm.

But, Nolan reasoned, Jonah had always been a fairly popular fellow, despite his bookishness.  He wasn’t precisely an introvert; he was a great conversationalist and an easy persona at get-togethers.  And maybe, like the rest of Cedar Falls, he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get a closer look at the stunning and slightly scandalous new ‘it’ couple.

And maybe, at the end of the day, he was a young bachelor who was looking to get laid.  Nolan grinned at the thought.  His brother’s last relationship had ended months and months ago and the poor sap had been pretty broken up about it.  The girl had been sleeping around behind his back and it really knocked his confidence (and his faith in love) for a loop.  Nolan could have saved his brother a lot of time and heartache if only Jonah had been in the mood to listen to him.  He could have told him, and tried on several occasions to tell him, that the girl was bad news.  They shared no common interests, the relationship was based purely on his infatuation with her, and besides: Nolan knew more than a few guys from his college that had already slept with her.

Not that a woman had to be a virgin or anything to be worthy, not at all, it was just, well, apparent to Nolan that the girl was no good for Jonah.  Jonah was a romantic.  He was a family man just waiting to find a family.  That girl had been shallow and self-centered and selfish. 

Nolan loaded up his wide round tray with glasses of the Winery’s choicest Pinot Noir and chuckled to himself.  He hoped Jonah would find someone to catch his eye today.  Nolan was a little sick of living with the mopey S.O.B.

He sailed confidently out of the kitchen and smiled his best smile.  He offered the Pinot to several handsome cougars and they practically licked their lips and purred at him.  He’d just moved off to press some of the wine on Mayor Ward, a known oenophile, when he heard a commotion on one of the floors above.  He sighed.  That’s precisely why ‘open bar’ is a bad idea.  The free wine would have been more than enough and suitably impressive and very elegant.  But from what he understood, Vaughan Grey was a hard drinking man and had insisted on a full bar.  Hell, the man owned and kept well-stocked a full private bar of his own in the den.

Conversations around him dropped suddenly as everyone stood still, holding their breath, desperate to hear more.  Across the room he connected eyes with his friend Lennox.  Lennox was carrying the tray meant to clear emptied glasses.  Lennox raised his eyebrow in such a way that made Nolan grin.  What had his friend said about crazy uptight too-rich-for-their-own-good WASPs and their posh parties?

Nolan gave a little nod, conceding the point and then carefully, smoothly, made his way toward the stairs.  It wasn’t easy to sneak past the clusters of eager eavesdroppers but Nolan was fairly lithe and oozed enough charm to allow him to bleed through in an unobtrusive way.

A woman was shrieking.  Screaming some primeval, epic scream.  Jesus Christ, had someone drowned her baby or something?

Whispers crackled all around him as he reached the second floor landing.  City councilor Morrison was peeking out of a spare bedroom, his tie undone and his hair mussed.  A very young man Nolan recognized as one of the bakery cater-waiters peeped out from behind him.  Nolan averted his eyes and smiled.  He’d just passed the councilor’s stout battle-axe of a wife on the stairs.  He wondered if the councilor knew how close he’d come to discovery.

As Nolan approached the next flight of stairs he heard voices, and sobbing, and then stepped aside just in time to avoid being bowled-over by a strutting, nude, wet, breathtaking, raven-haired beauty.  She paused just after she passed him, a step or two below where he stood, and turned.

“Is that a Cab?”  She was entirely unconcerned with her nakedness. 

“Pinot.” Nolan answered evenly, a pleasant smile on his lips and his eyes fixed firmly on her face.

“The Cab is better.” She sighed but lifted a glass from his tray anyway.  He disagreed but nodded.  From what he knew of  the heiress, Ms. Threnody Aschere had been nursed on fine wine and had long since been weaned onto hard liquor.

She gave him a once over with her silver-gray eyes and allowed herself a small smile.

“You better get up there, handsome, if you don’t want to miss all the fun.”  She took a sip as she languidly descended the stairs.  All the heads she passed tuned to watch her Lady Godiva act and he grinned.  What a sweet fucking ass she had.  A bit skinny for his taste, but flawless.

When she was out of sight and headed toward the ground floor Nolan quickly turned and hustled the rest of the way up the stairs.  He arrived at the top to come face-to-face with his host, who was garbed only in a clinging silk robe that left little to the imagination. 

Nolan understood then, as he put the pieces together in his brain, that this event would be one of legend.  The naked heiress, the sleaze-bag golf-pro, and the wailing princess on the sundeck.

Vaughan Grey looked unruffled and dripped with machismo.  Nolan stepped aside gracefully as the man and about a dozen hangers-on moved down the stairs to resume the party.  One or two grabbed glasses from his tray absently.

He thanked the fates that his parents had left more than an hour ago.  They wouldn’t have liked to be present for the scandal.

Silently Nolan moved through the enormous, masculine master bedroom and arrived at the open bi-fold French doors to the sundeck just in time to witness Velvet Calder Grey vomit exquisitely down the front of some poor bastard’s shirt.

He did a double take.  That poor bastard was his brother.  Nolan gaped.  Holy Shit.  The August sun was white hot and his brother was in a crouched heap with a sobbing newlywed heiress.  And there was vomit everywhere.

Without further hesitation Nolan deposited the wide tray on a heavy glass-top patio table and moved back into the bedroom.  His eyes took a moment to adjust to the relative darkness but then he had no trouble locating the master bathroom. 

Shit.  This bathroom was huge.  It had a whirlpool tub and a separate shower, the kind with multiple heads.  There was some kind of settee right in the middle of the room (there was enough open space for furniture!) and a vanity, and—he just needed towels.  He scrambled over to an enormous wall of built-in shelves and drawers, and rifled through a few before finding a large stash of towels. 

Gripping the extra soft and fluffy towels in his hands as he strode purposefully back toward the sundeck he almost regretted having to ruin such fine linens.  He shrugged.  He hadn’t paid for them.

Jonah was gently patting the woman on the back and murmuring low, and she was babbling apologies through sporadic sobs.  Nolan glanced around.  Everyone else had departed.  What shallow fuckers.  He looked down at the dark haired, pale skinned young bride and his gut twisted in pity.

He knelt down gingerly, carefully avoiding anything that looked wet, unable to tell what was water from the hot tub and what might be partly vomit.

“Here” he said quietly extending one towel toward his brother.

Jonah turned his head, his glasses flashing in the sunlight.  A look of surprise quickly melted into one of gratitude.  “Thank you.”  He took the towel and began to carefully wipe the girl’s face.  The man was drenched in vomit and he focused first on dabbing her sad, tear-streaked face. 

Velvet Grey glanced weakly over at the newcomer and her lower lip quivered, a warning sign of more tears.  Nolan was quick to smile comfortingly and say: “It’s ok.”

But she turned her head away and sobbed.  He supposed she would be feeling pretty mortified.  She was clinging to his brother tightly.

“What happened?” Nolan whispered.  How the fuck had his mundane, average-guy of a brother gotten mixed up in this crazy soap opera?  Probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Whatever the reason, however it had happened, Jonah Delaney was cradling Vaughan Grey’s seventeen-year-old multi-million-dollar-heiress-bride\meal ticket.

Jonah just shook his head.  He would tell Nolan some other time. “We need to get her inside.”  He said, his voice low and gentle. 

Nolan glanced down at her very round stomach and felt his mouth fill with bitter saliva.  What a fucking bastard her husband was.

Nolan reached between the two and tried to sop up as much of the mess on Jonah’s shirt as he could.  He’d been a bartender at a college bar for a couple of years now and didn’t have much trouble controlling his gag reflex around puke.  Jonah took the towel from him.  “Thanks.”  He sopped up some more, enough to allow him to stand without too much incident.  “Help me?”  He asked and began to shift her in his arms.

Nolan moved to help hoist her to her feet and give Jonah leverage to pull himself to standing.  His brother was careful not to break contact with the girl. 

“Oh Velvet!”

 Nolan and Jonah spun as one toward the French doors.  Mrs. Calder was standing there, one hand clutched to her chest the other gripping the door frame.  She looked more disgusted than sympathetic.

Velvet only buried her face into Jonah’s clean sleeve, just about the only part of his front that wasn’t drenched in sick, and sobbed harder.  The brothers exchanged a glance.

“I think she’ll be alright, Mrs. Calder.” Nolan covered smoothly.  “We’re just going to get her in out of the heat.”

Jonah was already moving toward the door, gently pulling his broken princess along with him.

“Velvet.”  Her mother shook her head, a cold steely look in her small-ish eyes.  Nolan knew that tone.  He had a mother of his own, after all, and knew there would be some form of an ‘I told you so’ coming.  Like the girl needed to hear that from her only blood relative at that moment.  Christ.

“We’ll help her, Mrs. Calder.”  Nolan assured the woman, boldly taking the woman by her arm and steering her toward the door from the master bedroom. “She’ll be alright now.  Maybe you’ll want to go down and smooth things over with the guests?” So stunned and aghast and distracted was she that she actually allowed the young man to bring her quite close to the exit.  Then, abruptly, she stopped, ripped her arm from his grasp, and spun to face Velvet where she stood clinging to Jonah.

“This is what comes of behaving like a perfect whore Velvet Calder!”  Nolan sucked on his teeth.  Great.

“Mamma!” wailed the girl pitifully, her knees buckling and sinking toward the floor.  Jonah rushed to support her off-balance weight, to keep her from collapsing entirely. 

“You played the pretty little prostitute, and it was only a matter of time before he discarded you.”  Nolan took the woman firmly by the upper arm and forced a tight-lipped smile. 

“I really must insist you go downstairs now Ma’am.”  He said, struggling to master his urge to give the frigid old crone a piece of his mind.  Was she insane?  He didn’t know too much about it but he was fairly certain that a lady in Velvet’s condition, under severe emotional stress, could risk going into early labor or miscarrying.  Vomit he could deal with, but if that young woman started having contractions he knew he’d lose it.

Nolan marched Mrs. Calder through the bedroom door and closed it firmly behind him.  He didn’t dare let go of her until they’d reached the second floor landing. 

“Impertinent!”  She hissed.  He was fairly sure she hadn’t recognized him as one of her old friend’s sons.  Privileged people often had trouble seeing past uniforms.

“I apologize Ma’am.” He said without much conviction and released her pale, bony arm. 

“I’ll have your job for this.”  She was indignant. 

He nodded grimly.  He supposed she would.  She strode away haughtily and he knew she was going to go give his description to the Winery Owner who was also in attendance today.  God Dammit.  He lived for his job at the winery.

He caught a glimpse of his pal Lennox skulking nearby.  The man was trying to pretend like he was minding his own business, cleaning up after the rich assholes, but Nolan knew he was eavesdropping. 

“Lenny-“  Lennox straightened his spine and clucked his tongue.  Nolan outranked him, was the manager of the winery waitstaff, and the guy figured he was in trouble.  Nolan smiled to let him know he wasn’t going to be reprimanded.

“Len, I need you to help me out.”

“What the hell’s happening up there?” He checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was too close.  “You should hear the shit people’re whispering downstairs.”  His eyes were wide.  Nolan wished he were firmly on the other side of the scandal and could enjoy the juicy gossip along with everyone else.  “This woman came down completely fucking bare-ass—“

Nolan sighed.  “I’ll give you the whole story tonight, but right now I’m going to need you to get me a few things—think you can slip away?  I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Shit.” Lennox said waving a hand dismissively.  “Nobody notices a cater waiter—especially one who’s just picking up the empties.”

Nolan grinned.  He gave his friend some quick instructions and bounded back upstairs. 

He knocked softly and waited but no reply was forthcoming.  He took a bracing breath and turned the handle, opening the door very slowly.  “It’s just me.”  He said, instinct dictating that he announce his arrival. 

“We’re in here.”  Came his brother’s voice from somewhere deep inside the master bedroom suite.  Nolan slinked in and clicked the door closed behind him.  The door to that monster bathroom was open and he could see the young Mrs. Grey sitting slump-shouldered on the settee.  His brother stepped into view, wiping his hands on yet another towel, his button-down shirt wetter than before but cleaner.

“Do you think you can get me a shirt?”  Jonah asked, keeping his voice low and smooth.

“Already on it.”  Nolan answered, moving cautiously toward the bathroom. The girl wasn’t crying anymore, thank Christ, but now she looked to be in some kind of trance.  Her arms were wrapped protectively around her large round belly.  “She--?”  Nolan nodded his head toward her, unable to voice his fears about the baby.

Jonah looked back at where she sat, mute and limp on the settee.  He turned back to face his brother.

“She’s not in pain so far, but I’d like to get her to the hospital—just in case.”  It was a low and somber whisper.

Nolan sucked in a breath.  He’d figured as much, but he needed to say what needed to be said anyway.  Even if he knew his brother would disregard it.  Even if he, himself, might have disregarded it.

“Look Jones, this girl—she’s someone’s wife.”

Jonah’s big purple eyes stared at Nolan’s blue-gray ones from behind his glasses.  “I know that.”  He responded flatly.

“Ok, well.”  Nolan expelled a little air.  How the fuck did one say this?  “Well maybe it ought to be her husband that takes her to the doctor.”  Even as he said it he knew it to be absurd.  But it had needed to be said.  The notion needed to be spoken aloud.

“Oh, I see.”  Said Jonah a little coldly. “Right.”  He swallowed and Nolan knew his brother was angry.  “That’s a good idea.”  Nolan began to wish he hadn’t said anything.  “In fact, why don’t you go downstairs and ask the man if he’s ready to bring his wife to the hospital?”  He leaned in close to Nolan and hissed “That is, if the prick can be bothered to take his cock out of whatever slut he’s pounding long enough to give a shit about his wife and unborn child.”

Whoa.  Nolan sighed.  He looked his brother full in the face and knew, with a sinking weight in his gut, that it was too late.  In the space of an hour Jonah Delaney had fallen in love with the wrong woman.  Again.

“I’ll go get you that shirt.”  Nolan said, resigned.  Not only was this fragile mess the wrong kind of woman for his brother, she was the wrong kind of woman who had a very possessive and violent husband.  Great.  He backed away from that fiery violet stare very slowly.  He didn’t want to get punched because some girl’s husband was a douche bag.

Jonah’s face softened a bit.  “Sorry.”

“Yeah.  I know.”  Nolan turned for the door, hoping Lennox would be just about done with all the tasks he’d given him.

“Nolan?”

Nolan turned.  “Yeah, Jonesy?”

“Not one of his shirts, ok?”  His brother looked pale but stoic.

“No problem.”

Jonah smiled marginally, and nodded his thanks, and slowly closed the bathroom door.  Nolan stared at the closed door for a long moment, listening to the sounds of a party floors below, listening to the hum and bubble of the electric hot tub on the deck, catching the faint whiff of residual vomit baking in the sun and feeling his pulse tick in his temples.

He walked toward the deck and saw his tray of Pinot Noir languishing in the bright heat, a fat yellow bee hanging about hopefully.  He bent, slipped a smooth stem between his fingers and stood, lifting the glass to his nose.  It was a younger Pinot.  There was only a hint of smokiness, a little fig, but mostly it had a buoyant bouquet of tart fruitiness—plums and cherries.

Fuck, but he was going to miss the winery.

He lowered the glass to his lips and took a healthy sip.  He’d pushed the boss to include this variety today.  Mack hadn’t been sure about it, wasn’t fully behind the vintage, but Nolan talked him into it.  It had been going over well too, better than even he had anticipated, especially given the competition the wines were getting from the open bar.

Mack was going to be pissed when he heard from Mrs. Calder.  He’d been grooming Nolan to take over in the next half-decade or so.  All the old man wanted was to find someone he could trust, someone he respected, hand the reigns of the Cedar Valley’s best vineyard over and go retire to a little place in Naples with his wife and three yippy dogs.

Nolan drained the contents and set the glass back on the tray.

He’d do his best to explain what had happened to Mr. Franchesci, but he knew it wouldn’t do much good.  Mrs. Calder was a substantial woman and a huge patron of the winery. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets and moved back into the cool dark of the bedroom.  He could hear the low timbre of his brother’s voice in the bathroom but couldn’t make out what was being said.

A quick, light, three rap sequence on the door told him Lennox had succeeded.  He wanted to kiss the beautiful mother fucker. 

“Mr. Franchesci’s looking for you.”  Lennox warned as Nolan pulled the door open and hurried his friend inside.  “Holy fuck.”  He gaped.  “This shit is bigger than my whole goddamn apartment.” 

“Yeah, you should see the toilet.”  Nolan smiled. 

Lennox held out the spare cater-waiter uniform wordlessly, ogling the fine décor.

“Thanks—d’j’you get the keys?”

“I think so.”  Answered Lennox.  Nolan’s brows came together.

“What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

“I mean there’s a shit load of keys for pretty little porches and how am I supposed to know which one is hers?”

Nolan tilted his head to the side.  “Why didn’t you ask the valet?”

Lennox rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, right, some black servant comes looking for little Mrs. Grey’s keys?  That’d go over real nice.”

Nolan sighed but he smiled.  “Think it’ll look better for some black cater-waiter to be sneaking off with the keys, you asshole?”

Lennox tisked impatiently.  “Nobody saw me, you smug mother-fucker.  I’m not stupid.”

It felt good to laugh.  Well, they’d be borrowing somebody’s car for a little while.

“Alright, alright, thanks.  Go grab my tray and get outta here before you get in trouble with Mack.”

Nolan moved to the bathroom door and spoke quietly. “Jonah?  I have some clothes.”

From the sundeck Nolan heard Lennox curse creatively.  “Fuck my gramma with a jack-hammer—they have a goddamn hot tub up here on the third mother-fucking floor?”

Nolan couldn’t suppress his mirth.  He was smiling when Jonah opened the door a crack.  “Thank you—“  He looked past his brother’s shoulder.  “Oh.  Hi, Len.”  He said, a little awkward.

“Hey Jones.”  Lennox responded jovially, re-entering from the sundeck.  “I’m just going.”  And he headed to the door, still shaking his head and muttering about the goddamn hottub.

“Len?”  Nolan’s call turned his friend around.  “I owe you one.”

“You owe me so fuckin’ big Delaney.”  He grinned and opened the door, balancing the tray with one hand.  “Oh, hey, what is this bullshit?”

“Pinot.” 

“I thought Pinot was white.”

“Pinot Noir.” Nolan amended.  Len narrowed his eyes and looked for all the world like Nolan was playing a joke on him.  The he shrugged. 

“Black Pinot.”  He repeated.  He chuckled as he exited.  “Probably a hit with the ladies, right?  Once you go Black Pionot…”

Nolan snorted and turned back to his brother. 

“I owe you.” Jonah said meaningfully.

Nolan’s brows knit together and he shrugged.  “Does she need a change of clothes too?”

Jonah looked into his brother’s face for a long moment.  The sooner they got moving the better, as far as Nolan was concerned.  Jonah nodded slowly in the affirmative.  Nolan made a quick nod in response and moved to find the lady’s closet.  It was probably those ten-foot tall double doors over yonder.

“Maybe pack a few outfits.”  Jonah said, a little shaky, and Nolan rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and begged for patience.  He was getting a new houseguest.

Great.  Maybe she could pay his half of the rent now that he was going to be unemployed.