Looking Through the Cracks

Chapter 29: A Prince and Princess

As the two strolled through the lobby, past the front desk, B pointed to a closed-off balcony located above one of the hallways. Peering down from its perch behind the railing hung the portrait of a woman dressed in a long white 19th-century gown. As Ivy looked up at the painting she couldn't help but feel like it was staring her down in judgment.

"So the woman in that painting used to be a princess who would visit here all the time. They put her portrait up there because she used to sit there and watch all the couples come down those stairs." B turned to point to the grand staircase behind them. "Apparently those who she liked the most were invited to dine with her here," B took Ivy's hand and led her to an open doorway that led to a dimly lit room full of plush mahogany furniture. Etched into the placard beside the entrance were the words "The Princess Lounge." Nervous that she did not have the proper qualifications to enter the lounge, Ivy poked her head inside making sure not to cross the threshold. Satisfied with her view of the room, Ivy turned to follow B to their next destination only to discover he had disappeared. Searching the long stretch of the lobby area, Ivy tried to find B but was unsuccessful. It was only after she peered inside the Princess Lounge again that she found him relaxing in one of the chairs like a gentleman about to enjoy an evening cocktail.

Afraid she might knock something expensive over, Ivy tiptoed over to B. "B!" she whispered loudly, "What are you doing? Are you allowed in here?"

With an informality that drove Ivy crazy, B cradled his head in his raised hands. "It's a chair, Ivy. It's meant to be sat in."

Lips pursed in frustration, Ivy took a seat across from B. Sitting in the high-backed chair, Ivy could feel her body sink into the plush velvet cushions. An unintentional sigh escaped from her lips. "Wow. This is super comfortable. I could fall asleep here." She could feel her eyes slowly grow heavier.

Luckily, she was saved from the comfy confines of her chair when a man dressed in a black and maroon vest approached. "Good evening, may I get you something to drink?"

Ivy tried to catch B's eyes before she responded, unsure how to respond. On one hand, she could ask for a drink and get carded which would result in complete embarrassment. On the other hand, she could turn down the drink and potentially deny B the opportunity. She was still pondering how to handle the situation when B causally ordered a rum and coke.

"And for the lady?" the waiter asked Ivy.

Ivy's mind began to flip through the pages of her mind for anything resembling a mixed drink. A strawberry daiquiri? No, that's too complicated. An old-fashioned? I don't even know what goes into that. A slippery nipple? That just seems dangerous to order. Rotating through her drink options, Ivy could feel her anxiety rising as the waiter patiently waited for her to decide. To Ivy's great delight, B passed her a small leather drink menu.

"She's going to need a minute," he said.

"Of course, I'll bring your drink right over, sir." Giving a slight bow, the waiter turned and headed towards the bar hidden in the back of the room.

"Thanks" Ivy mumbled shyly.

"You don't need to apologize, Ivy. Now, stop beating yourself up and find a drink you might like." As if it were an afterthought, B added, "You don't have to get a mixed drink either. Don't feel like you have to drink just because I am. Get whatever you want."

Ivy could feel the tension in her chest loosen after B's offer. Feeling a renewed sense of autonomy, Ivy perused the drink menu with new eyes. As she scanned the drink offerings, she discovered an alcoholic version of her favorite drink as a child: A Shirley Temple.