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I sat with my mouth open like a fish out of water. "Oh," I managed. "That's … good to know."
After he and my father good-fellowed each other for a few moments, he unbuttoned his jacket and sat down beside me. He smelled so good, wearing some really nice cologne. I couldn’t place the scent but it was pleasant. I could tell from the fabric and cut that his suit was very expensive. Dark grey silk of some blend with a white shirt and black tie. He moved around to get comfortable, one arm going on the back of my seat, his legs spread wide as if he owned the whole world.
He turned and smiled at me, arching his eyebrow, then leaned closer, his face next to mine, his lips near my ear.
"Don't sound so pleased to see me. Nice move, by the way, forgetting to invite me to sit in your box as your father asked," he said, his breath warm on my cheek.
My father turned back to Drake and he answered my father's questions about his band, his hands animated as he spoke, telling my father about the music his own father used to play and how it influenced him. He took out a pair of opera glasses and talked about them, saying they were his great grandmother's. They spoke together conspiratorially as I tried to figure out what I was going to do about Drake being there.
While my father and Elaine leaned in the other direction with their own glasses, checking out who else was in attendance, I leaned over to Drake but didn't meet his eyes.
"I consider this pushing my limits."
I caught his smile from the corner of my eye. "I'm a good Dom, Kate," he whispered to me, moving closer. "We push our sub's limits. It's the only way they experience anything new or as intensely as they could because they're too afraid on their own."
"You said you'd honor the agreement to the letter."
"It hasn't taken effect yet. Not until November 15th, if I recall correctly. This is just me being who I am."
I sat and stewed. "This is a special event for me," I said, my voice low. "I don't want you here."
"What do you mean?"
"Why don't you ask my father?"
I shook my head and turned away. He did exactly that, turning to my father. They spoke for a moment and I listened, waiting to see how clueless my father was.
"Kate said this is a special night for her."
"Oh, yes, that's right. Katherine used to go with her mother each year to hear this performed. Symphony No. 3 by Gorecki. About the Holocaust. Lost some family on her mother's side in the camps. Isn't that right, dear?" my father said, leaning over to me, a blank smile on his face. "Katherine and her mother used to cry like babies when they listened to it."
I made a face at him and turned away. I wanted to leave. I didn't want Drake Morgan sitting beside me, gloating that he'd weaseled his way into my private life despite my attempts to keep him out. Yes, I had warmed a bit towards him after our little dinner party and how he recited that poem to me after. He wasn't just an empty cad, devoid of personality.
But I didn't want him there.
He sat silent for a moment so I took out my cell phone and sent him a text message.
Drake, please, can you find some excuse to leave during the first part of the performance? It has special meaning to me and I get very emotional. It has to do with my mother. I'd rather you not be with us. Can't you pretend to get a page about a patient and leave for half an hour? I'm asking you this as one human to another…please…
I sent the text and in a moment, his cell vibrated and he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved it.
He read the text. I kept my face forward but I could tell he was considering. He typed for a moment and then put his cell away. He spoke with my father, talking about his musical influences, and how he preferred the acoustic guitar but played the bass because his band needed one. He spoke of his dad's guitar collection that he kept, something about his vintage Gibson bass guitar that he played for sentimental reasons, its wood and frets worn with use.
I checked my phone, but there was no reply. I sat there, tense, dreading him being there when the performance started. He was going to ruin it for me and I hated him and I hated my completely clueless father for inviting Drake tonight – of all nights!
Just as the lights went down, Drake's pager went off, the buzz audible from where I sat. He made a big performance of taking it off the clip on his belt and checking it.
"Ah, damn," he said and showed it to my father. "Gotta run out for a bit. Have a patient post-op who's experiencing complications. I'll run back to the hospital and check on him, but I'll come back as soon as I can."
"That's too bad, Drake. You'll miss the first part of the performance. That's Katherine's favorite part, isn't it, dear?" My clueless father turned to me and smiled.
"That's too bad," I said and turned to Drake, our eyes meeting, his face unreadable. I wanted to thank him, but my father's attention was riveted to me and so I just smiled weakly.
"I'll be back as soon as I can," Drake said, staring into my eyes. "I'm sad I'll miss your favorite part."
He stood and patted my father on the shoulder and then smiled at me briefly before buttoning his jacket and leaving.
I sighed in relief and relaxed back into my chair.
