“Meg,” Kelly warned, tugging gently on her shoulder, “I think you’ve had enough beer for a while, darlin’.”
Meg looked at the glass in her hand, which was about two-thirds gone, and nodded, stepping over to sit it down on a nearby table.
As she turned to dispose of her beverage, Charlie stepped closer to Kelly and asked quietly, “How many has she had?”
“That’s her first,” Kelly admitted, “but she doesn’t drink much.”
“I see,” Charlie replied, nodding and returning his attention to Meg who was staggering just a hair as she crossed back over to him.
“Well, if she doesn’t drink, and she doesn’t dance, perhaps this isn’t the best way for her to spend her evening,” Jonathan chimed in, speaking about her as if she wasn’t there, even though she could clearly hear him above the music.
A scowl formed on Meg’s pretty face. “But this is where the men are,” she reminded him, placing a slightly wobbly hand on Jonathan’s upper arm. “If I’m gonna meet one, like Kelly wants, I’ve gotta come here.”
“Meggy, darlin’ I don’t think you quite…. She’s not…. Maybe we should just be gettin’ her some water,” Kelly stammered, her face beginning to redden with embarrassment for her friend.
“I’ll get it,” Jonathan offered, gently taking Meg’s small hand in his and removing it from his arm, placing it carefully on Charlie’s arm instead before he disappeared into the crowd in search of something more benign for Meg to drink.
Meg’s head was beginning to feel a little fuzzy, but she wasn’t willing to accept the fact that one beer could cause her to act so out of character. “I’m really not that drunk,” she insisted, realizing that her hand was now resting on Charlie’s bicep, which was quite firm. She ran her hand along his sleeve for a second before realizing what she was doing. Drawing her hand away and looking at it in confusion, as if it had betrayed her, she quickly thrust both hands behind her back, hoping she could behave herself that way.
With a peculiar expression on his face, Charlie took a step closer to her, saying, “You seem a little tipsy.” He carefully placed a hand on her arm to steady her.
“Do I?” she asked, placing her hands on his chest. “Because I don’t really think I am.” She glanced down at her own hands, realizing their duplicity but powerless to remove them.
Charlie was looking at her hands quizzically as well. After a moment, he replied, “I think it’s fair to say you might be a little drunk, Meg.”
Sighing loudly enough to be heard above the din of the percussion, Kelly looped her arm through Meg’s elbow and pulled her back, saying to Charlie, “Excuse us, just a moment,” before she stepped between them and said, “Meg, darlin’, what are you doin’?”
“Nothing. I’m not doing anything,” Meg assured her, glancing over Kelly’s shoulder at Charlie, who was now standing several feet away, scratching his head in confusion and perhaps a bit of amusement.
Through clenched teeth, Kelly said very quietly, right next to her ear, “You do remember who this is, who he thinks you are, and who he doesn’t suspect you are at all, right sweetie?”
Returning her attention to her friend, Meg assured her, “Yes! It’s fine. I know. I’m Aunty Meg—not that other girl. I won’t ruin this for you, I promise.”
“You promise?” Kelly repeated, pointing at her sharply.
“Yes, I promise!” Meg assured her. Just then, she saw Jonathan was back with a glass of water. With another knowing glance and a quick nod of her head, she stepped around Kelly to meet him. “Thank you, Jonathan,” she said, taking the water from him and swallowing a big gulp. “You really are so kindhearted, aren’t you?”
“I guess so,” he said a questioning lilt to his voice, his brow creased in confusion.
She handed the glass back to Jonathan, who looked at it oddly before sitting it on the table next to her beer. Meg’s attention was no longer on the valet, however, and quickly closing the small space between them, she said, “So, Charlie, are we going to dance?” as she delicately placed her hand back on his arm.
“Well,” Charlie said surveying the dance floor, “I’m not sure I know any of these steps….”
“Me neither,” Meg said. A swift kick in the back of her leg from Kelly later, and she added, “I mean, not this particular style. This is more… German influenced, I think.”
“Possibly,” he said, trying not to laugh at her obvious improvisation. “But I thought you said you don’t dance.”
She was not so drunk as to miss his teasing expression. “I said I don’t want to dance with them.” She gestured at Titus and his friends across the room with her forehead, a playful lilt in her voice.
Charlie glanced back across the room at the group. He was certain now that he had caught their attention, and he wasn’t sure if their sharp glances were due to his social status or the fact that he was clearly imposing on territory at least one of them had already claimed for his own. Nevertheless, it wasn’t like Charlie to back down from a challenge. He considered leading her out to the floor, but Meg began to sway again, and he was unsure as to whether or not she was in any condition to attempt a dance. “I don’t know, Meg…” he began, glancing at Kelly for an indication as to the likelihood Meg could handle a turn on the dance floor presently or not.
“All right, Mr. New Yorker,” Meg said, moving her head in order to regain his attention and staring straight into his eyes, “if you don’t dance, and I don’t see a beer in your hand, why are you here?”
Charlie couldn’t help but laugh. It was wonderful to see her personality shining through at last. Perhaps a bit of alcohol had done her well. Still grinning at her, he leaned in, a bit surprised when she did not retreat, and pushing her blonde locks out of the way he whispered into her ear, “To see you.”