Black and Blue Ivy

Subterfuge

The days flew by. The post-Christmas boredom descended upon the Robinson house. The children's new toys had lost their luster and were now neatly packed away in the playroom. Even the ornaments on the majestic tree had lost some of its shine, but my heart was ablaze. Somehow it was easy to forgive Bentley's coldness toward me. After all, when I was able to step back a bit from my own emotional response I could see where he was coming from. He had more at stake than I did. I wasn't expecting a fabulous inheritance when I turned eighteen. Heck, I didn't even know where I'd be in two years. He wanted to continue with his music. The life of an artist was precarious at best. He was thinking about the future—our future. Perhaps it was silly for a girl barely sixteen to think about her future in that way. Most girls my age weren't thinking past the next exam or what they planned to wear to prom. But I wasn't like most girls. I had to grow up fast. So did Bentley. We were more alike than I had first realized, I had judged him to be a rich snob based on how he looked, the clothes he wore, but I was wrong. He mentioned his dark past. Perhaps if I could get him to open up more, he'd share some of his pain with me and we'd help each other heal.

The day after Christmas when the house was quiet and Gardenia had stayed in her room with the baby and the children were off with Angela for a play date with one of the neighbor's children, Bentley drew me aside into the small, rarely used breakfast nook near the kitchen and slipped a CD into my hand.

"What this?" I asked, confused by the subterfuge.

"Handel's Messiah," he said in a near whisper. "Know it?"

"Nope."

"Well, study it."

"Why? I thought school was out for this week," I teased. Our lessons had gotten slack with the holiday hustle bustle. Funny how no one in the household seemed to notice or care.

"It is, but we're going to this concert Friday night."

"But I thought—"

Bentley pressed his finger to my lips. We both froze at the sound of Mrs. Roche shuffling through the hall. When her heavy tread had faded toward the dining room, he said, "You don't actually think Mother would approve of us hearing the devil's music, do you?"

I giggled. "I suppose not."

"As far as she knows, we're going to Handel's Messiah at the Academy of Music. So when she asks about it—"

"Got it," I said and slipped the CD into the pocket of my skirt. I was wearing the peach ensemble Gardenia had given me. I had to admit it fit well, especially along my bust line. The healthy food at the Robinson house had done wonders for my figure. My hair had grown out enough that it could use a trim. I smiled at Bentley, "You're pretty slick you know that."

"Thanks," he said and planted a quick kiss on my lips.

My body lurched forward, wanting more.

"Bentley!" Gardenia's shrill call echoed from the foyer. She must have just come downstairs. It was already past noon.

"Shit," Bentley uttered. Our bodies broke apart.

He stepped aside and opened the door a crack then waved me through it like he was some master spy. He mouthed, "Listen to that" and pointed toward the CD hidden in my pocket. I nodded my head that I would, and as I wandered toward the backstairs to avoid running into Gardenia I marveled at how talented Bentley was at spying, and subterfuge, and many more things I probably didn't even know about yet.

* * *

I looked the perfect princess when after Friday night's dinner Bentley kissed Gardenia on the top of the head and reminded her that we were heading off to the Handel concert. I watched anxiously as she pursed her lips and for a moment I feared she might say we couldn't go, that she had forgotten or changed her mind, but Bentley had already refilled her wine glass with her favorite Petite Sirah. Mrs. Roche had already squirreled the children away in the family room to watch a Disney movie and the baby was off with the new nanny. I hadn't seen Mr. Robinson since Christmas day. When Bentley had mentioned that he was working on a very important case in the city, my thoughts naturally flew to what happened at the judge's house at Rittenhouse Square. I tried to banish that horrific scene from my head as I hovered by the dining room door, desperate to make my escape. Gardenia's tired eyes floating toward me.

"That dress looks nice on you, Ivy," she said, or rather slurred. I wondered how many glasses of wine she'd already consumed.

Cut low into a sweetheart neckline the black velvet dress did give me a hint of sophistication perfect for a classical concert. It was one of Gardenia's hand-me-downs she'd been kind enough to give me.

"You both make a handsome couple," she said, followed by a shallow laugh.

It was an odd thing to say. I held my breath.

"All right," she said with a sigh. "Don't be out too late."

We were at the door.

"Did you check the weather report?" she called after us.

"Yup," replied Bentley, steering me toward the foyer. "All clear."

"Well, drive safe and don't be too late," she croaked.

I could barely stop myself from bolting to the front door.

Once we were in the car—the Jaguar—I unclipped the pearls from my neck and flipped down the vanity mirror to apply a dark lipstick I had swiped from the upstairs powder room.

"What are you doing?" Bentley laughed as we veered out of the driveway.

"If I'm going to a Luther Black concert, I need to look goth!"

"I'll goth you all right." He reached over and tousled my hair.

"Hey!" I protested. His action almost caused the lipstick to slide across my cheek.

"Let me see."

I turned my face toward him.

He sucked in a quick breath. "Sexy. I'm going to have trouble keeping my hands off you tonight."

Nothing wrong with that I thought and went back to applying the lipstick. Even I had to admit that with my pale skin in the black velvet dress, I did look pretty goth. If only I had a cool black leather coat to go over the dress instead of the pale blue wool coat.

The Electric Factory parking lot was packed, but luckily we found a spot on the street close to the venue. Seeing the crowd of mostly teens and young adults, all dressed in various styles of clothing, from jeans and leather jackets to vinyl dresses topped with short faux fur jackets, all in shades of black, gave me a shot of adrenalin that made me rush ahead.

"Easy, Ivy," said Bentley with a chuckle. He linked his arm with mine. "You act like you've never been to a concert before."

"That's because I never have been," I said, forcing myself to a slower pace.

"Ah," he said with twinkling eyes. "A virgin!"

I jabbed him with my elbow. "Not anymore," I said laughing and pulled him along.