More Whips; Fewer Chains

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Backstage

When we entered backstage, it was packed with people. The crowd was made-up of mostly musicians, with a few high society mixed in. Fletcher was surrounded by hangers-on and sycophants. The kind of people who usually made my stomach churn. There was a fifty-something woman, poured into a cocktail dress with a neckline so low that you could see pretty much all of her ample cleavage. There was also a gorgeous, mid-thirties blonde, hanging all over Fletcher, clearly mate-guarding. If I were attracted to older women, she would have been right up my alley. Fletcher, however, did not return her open affection. I recognized the conductor, and several members of the orchestra amongst the crowd.

Anthony and I made a beeline toward the catering. It was mostly vegetables, with a few cold cuts thrown in. It seemed rather modest fare for such a high-society event. While Anthony grabbed a glass of wine for himself, I stuck with water. Plates stocked with food, and glasses filled, we took in the scene.

It was then that the conductor cleared his throat and announced to the crowd:

"Ladiees and Gentlemahn. May I hav' your attension si vous plait. I wuud like to propose eh toast, to zee man of zee ow-wa, Fletch-air Shambors. 'Though, you play zee chiropractor of instrumannts, you are zee...best chiropractor."

Several people in the crowd politely laughed at this, including Fletcher. The crowd held up their glasses and drank to Fletcher.

"Thank you, Jean-Phillipe. You are too kind." Fletcher stated warmly.

From his reaction, I couldn't tell if there was any animosity toward the man who had clearly intended to insult him in public.

Anthony and I milled around the crowd for a few minutes until Fletcher and I made eye contact. His face lit-up with a warm smile. Again, my heart skipped a beat. I blushed. He deftly and politely extricated himself from the conversation he was in with the fifty-something woman accompanied by what appeared to be her hen-pecked husband and began to walk across the room toward us. As he navigated the crowd, he had to stop here and there to acknowledge the praise he was receiving from various partygoers. When he was about ten feet away from Anthony and me, he stated sonorously, "Miss Stephens, so nice to see you again."

The crowd went silent. Everyone turned to look at me. I looked him directly in the eye and said, "Nice to see you, too, Fletcher." That same urge to avert my gaze hit me, but something inside of me wouldn't let me give in to it. As I felt everyone's attention slowly leave, wave of relief washed over me.

When Fletcher crossed the distance between us, he proffered his hand. I took it and he turned mine over and kissed the back of it. My inner feminist bristled at the audacity of the move, yet the romantic in me felt like I was going to melt into a puddle of goo on the floor.

He turned to Anthony.

"Fletcher Chambers", he said offering his hand.

"Anthony Davis. You can kiss my hand too, you know."

Fletcher laughed and said mirthfully, "That's a little forward, isn't it? Kate and I met yesterday."

"Touché", Anthony quipped.

"Did you enjoy the show?"

"Oh, my God, yes! I'm sure you get this all the time, but you're the best musician I've ever seen.", Anthony replied.

"Thank you, I have heard that once or twice." Fletcher stated evenly.

That overwhelmingly powerful gaze focused on me again, and he asked, "What about you, Kate?".

"I don't know much about classical music, but I loved what I saw."

"Such refreshing honesty." Fletcher said.