Spinelli stepped out first, only to be met with rapid fire flashing and voices yelling his name. He turned back to the limo, offering Virginia his hand. She joined him, running a palm down both sides of her dress to smooth out any bunching. A second flurry of flashing ignited around them while she stood by his side. The competitive calls from the photographers had her laughing.
He brought his mouth to her ear to be heard over the noise of the crowd. "I see you like attention."
"It's beautiful . . . like fireworks."
"Like you."
He hooked her arm inside of his and headed down the carpet that had been laid out, leading to the door. Barricades on both sides held the photographers and other spectators at bay, but they leaned over the wooden supports, trying to get a better angle for their shots. She took it all in with a sense of wonderment.
The noise from the crowd dissipated as soon as they stepped inside the building. The foyer was expansive and spectacular in its own right, but for the evening's event it was glorious. Cascades of flowers tied onto strings of tiny lights made a canopy that hung from the ceiling and threw out a heady scent. They made their way over to the greeting table to check in and retrieve their table assignment.
Virginia recognized the Governor as he was walking up to them. Elected late in his career, he was an older man, totally gray, but in excellent shape for his age. Having a reputation as a fair and smart politician made him a favorite in most political circles.
"Stan, you're looking well," Spinelli greeted.
The Governor reached his hand out and Spinelli grasped it in his. "Mark, how are you?"
"Fantastic—especially tonight." The glance in her direction needed no further explanation.
Her breath got tight as heat rushed to her cheeks.
The Governor was quick on the uptake, looking over at her with a knowing smile. "Glad to hear it," he said.
"Stan, this is Lieutenant Virginia Robins of the LAPD."
"Lieutenant." His smile widened as he extended his hand to her. "I'm always happy to meet one of our men and women in blue."
"It is nice to meet you, Governor Mitchell."
"Call me Stan. We are all friends here, right Mark?" He had to reach up in order to clap his hand on Spinelli's shoulder. "This place turned out better than we could have imagined, and we have you to thank for that. I don't know how you found the time to handle this while running all those businesses you oversee."
Spinelli smiled. "I had a lot of help."
Stan turned his attention back to Virginia. "Did he tell you he's receiving an award tonight?"
She looked at her date with surprise. "No, he failed to mention that."
"I didn't think so, forever modest, eh?" He flashed Spinelli a teasing grin.
"You're wasting your awards on me."
"Well, at least you've got your own security. You don't have to worry about anyone stealing it in the parking lot." The Governor winked at Virginia as she laughed. "Enjoy the entertainment—we have some pretty good performers tonight. I'll see you in there." He shook both their hands once more and went off to mingle with the other guests.
Entering the main hall, she took a moment to look around. Candle-lit arrangements decorated every table throughout the massive room. A stage took up most of the front wall, the majority of its surface obscured by a closed black curtain, a spotlight shining down on it with the words JOHNSON CENTER reflecting out to the audience. A podium stood near the front of the stage, flanked by two seven-tiered pyramids of champagne glasses set up on round, skirted tables. The crystal sparkled under the bright stage lighting.
They found their table and introduced themselves to the other eight guests who were seated there. Wine and conversation flowed easily among the ten of them. Other people who knew Spinelli stopped by, and he took the time to introduce her to each and every one of them.
Virginia soon discovered that the dinner was a fundraiser with a price tag of five hundred a plate. She gave Spinelli a hard nudge with her elbow upon learning exactly how much this little date was costing. In response he reached down and held her hand in his, trying to calm her reaction, having the opposite effect on her breathing.
The four-course dinner was delicious. Speeches began while coffee was being served. The first few honorees were members of the board. They each stood and thanked their mother, father, or significant other in a typical award ceremony fashion.
Then the Master of Ceremonies announced, "Up next is the Business in the Arts Award." He went on to emphasis the importance of a partnership between the business community and the arts community, describing the award as a recognition of an individual's or a corporation's significant contributions to the vitality and availability of the arts. This year's recipient was said to be a major contributor, both in time and financing, to the building of the center. "It is my great honor to introduce this year's recipient, Mr. Mark Spinelli."
Virginia smiled when she heard the MC call his name, joining in on the loud clapping that had consumed the room.
He stood and made his way up to the podium with confident grace. She envied his composure, knowing she would have been a jiggling bundle of nerves if it were her up there.
The waiters joined him on stage, each carrying two champagne bottles. They lined up and began pouring into the feeder glass of each of the pyramids. As the gold color liquid spilled over to fill the layers below, Spinelli's deep voice filled the room. He had no speech in front of him, no notes to refer to, but his words flowed smoothly, just like the champagne behind him.
"This award really belongs to my employer, Augustus Chilvati. He is a man who abhors publicity, so I have been given the privilege tonight to tell you a little bit about him. As a young boy, Augustus grew up in New York City, the son of Italian immigrants who came to the States in the hopes of finding a better life. Any of you who are descendants of immigrants already know that the first generation to arrive here didn't always have an easy go of it. He worked at any job he could find from the time he was fifteen. Waiter, caretaker, lawn maintenance, you name it, he did it. And—some of you may be surprised to hear this—not everything he did was legal."
Laughter echoed through the room, forcing him to pause. Behind him the work carried on. As each waiter's bottles were emptied, they left, only to float back up on stage with large trays in their arms.
"Along the way Augustus learned how to take a dollar and turn it into many. He did not have any formal training. He was not part of the masses sitting in huge classrooms at business schools like we see today. His knowledge was self-taught, driven out of necessity, what we like to call 'street-learned.' Yes, he made his share of mistakes, but today he is one of the leading businessmen of the state and one of the smartest men I know. Which is why, when he asked me to become involved in this project, I took on the challenge with great pride."
He paused again to gather his thoughts. The waiters behind him made like bees to a beehive, rushing in and out, the glass tiers on the stage slowly being disassembled as they loaded their trays. After each circled the tables to serve the liquid gold, they returned for refills again and again.
"So why an arts center?"
One of the men at their table spoke quietly but loud enough for Virginia to hear. "Money laundering, maybe?"
The woman beside him giggled.
Virginia looked over but managed to hold in the angry response. Any idiot would know you can't launder money by giving it away. Instead of wasting any time on them, she turned her attention back to her man on stage.
The man on stage—he's not yours, she corrected.
"When Augustus was in his early twenties, he met a dancer while working in a theater. She would have nothing to do with him at first, but he kept pursuing her, making sure he was there during every one of her performances, until she eventually agreed to go out with him. She showed him a world he knew nothing about. Her love of the arts became his new purpose. She was not Italian, so he had to fight his parents as their relationship became more serious. It came down to an ultimatum, the family or the girlfriend, and he chose his beautiful dancer. They married young. It was a struggle at first, but Augustus never lost that drive for success. He and his dancer were married forty-two years. Her name was . . . Amelia Johnson."
A flurry of sporadic applause forced him to wait.
"She died of breast cancer last year, two months before we broke ground on this building. This was all her idea, hoping to pass her love of the arts onto others. She was a wonderful and gifted woman who, right up until the end, was involved in every aspect of the planning."
A waiter came up to him as if on cue, carrying a single glass of champagne on his tray. Spinelli took it in his hand, the waiter bowing as he lowered his tray and backed away. Spinelli lifted the glass and looked to the ceiling. "To you, Amelia. I know you are smiling down from above, thrilled to see this stunning building that has the honor of bearing your name. Cheers."
Everyone in the room raised their glass and drank as he did.
Spinelli hoisted the award in the air with his other fist. "Thank you." He stepped down from the podium and weaved his way back to their table.
"That was amazing," Virginia said after he sank back down into his seat. "I didn't know any of that."
"You can't beat a good love story." He put his hand over hers on the table, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. "Don't you agree?"
"I . . . ah," she stammered, distracted by his gentle touch. While she struggled to come up with something wonderfully witty to say, she lifted her eyes to his—and realized he was serious.
END OF CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A little more insight into Augustus Chilvati. You're about to meet him, so it was time to learn more about him. Please don't forget to vote, comment, and share my story. You've been a big help so far! Almost 4K reads!