Misfit Theater Company 2

16. Party Host

Moth lives in the same rich part of town that Patti, Sean, and Emma do, but the house's style isn't quite Patti's proper colonial or Sean's mid century modern or Emma's... whatever, I'm honestly not sure, it was so dark. His house's style completely matches his, as if it was built specifically for him.

It's a smaller house for this neighborhood, probably only 4 bedrooms instead of a billion, and it's covered in sky blue siding, complemented by two trellises covered in vining purple passion flowers on either side of the bright red door. From Thatcher's parking spot, we can spot the backyard hanging globe lights stretching from one of the upstairs bedrooms down to the furthest edge of their back porch.

Without texting Moth, I can already tell his parents are also throwing a party. I've been here a handful of times at this point, so I know that when the backyard globe lights are on, Moth's parents are partaking in the festivities, grownups in the back, kids inside. To avoid too many kids drinking, of course, but Moth's sister just turned twenty-one and her parents definitely saw her drinking before her birthday without any complaint, so... who knows how much they care.

I smile down at my promise ring as I get out of Thatcher's car and meet him on the sidewalk.

"What's wrong with it?" Thatcher asks, alarmed.

I laugh. "Nothing, it's perfect. I'm just admiring it."

"Phew," he says, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. Then, he extends a bent arm to me, the one that isn't carrying Patti's box of macarons. "M' lady?"

I link arms with him, his short girlfriend, and together, we walk toward the sound of Jimmy Buffet blaring from the back porch of the Boone house.

"Janie, Thatcher!" Mrs. Boone announces as we approach the steps leading up to their back porch from their neatly cut lawn. "Everyone, these are two of Timmy's friends from school, they went to Hollywood with him earlier this year for the show."

I will never not love the fact that Moth's parents and all of their friends know him as Timmy. Hearing them call him that is literally my favorite part of coming to Moth's house.

All of their friends, about 10-15 other forty to fifty-year-olds, cheer for Thatcher and I as we step closer to the bar Moth's parents built on their back porch. It's a little pretty typical little tiki hut sort of bar, which the Boones have decorated with beer bottle tops from all the many, many beers they've consumed. Tonight's drink isn't beer, though; it's something fruity and pink that Mrs. Boone must have prepared for the occasion, because it's in her own glass pitcher.

Mrs. Boone steps closer to me to whisper, "Timmy told me he told you about his agent. We are all celebrating his success out here. Inside, I'm told, it's strictly a Patti party."

"That's right," I say.

She winks. "Enjoy."

I laugh. Mrs. Boone is a character, just like her son. "Thanks, Mrs. Boone."

I lead Thatcher toward the sliding glass door between the porch and the kitchen, where I can already see some of our theater friends, and he asks, "What did she whisper to you?"

Thatcher still doesn't know about Moth leaving for Hollywood on the weekends, and as much as I want to tell Thatcher, it isn't my news to tell.

"Oh... just that we look cute together," I lie.

Ouch, my heart hurts from lying to him. My first instinct is to immediately take it back and tell him the truth, but I'm already sliding the glass door open and we are already stepping inside to the kids' party. There's no telling anyone now. This night is about Patti.