December 27th, 2001

The winter was in full swing outside Randy's grandmother's apartment window. Sam was sitting there next to the grand art deco window. It was a half circle, lined up with the floor. Elegant vines of brass were all around it. It reminded him a fairy's lair.

Randy was currently mutinous and sulking in the library. Sam was waiting it out. He was holding Princess, the new puppy who Randy had received two days ago. But not even Princess could heal this current problem. And Sam had no idea how he hadn't seen it coming. Princess wiggled as he thought about it. Her little feet kicked in the air. No doubt she'd need a walk soon. They could take her and Anais's dog.

"What do you think, Princess? Should Anais have seen this coming?"

Randy swung around into the room, putting on earrings fussily. "And another thing," he said, going on from the argument. "My mom knows ballet dancers take a break between Nutcracker season and spring season. Of course my new coach would, too! Reiha would never do this to me. She doesn't know what to do right now. There's no one else who can be my coach! I'm looking at three weeks of nothing!"

Sam had heard this all morning. His new coach had called and Sam had to tell Randy about the problem. It had been several hours. Sam had to figure out a way to distract him.

"You want to play some video games with me?"

Randy sighed. "I'd rather go to a studio and practice by myself. But I need a teacher to correct my form. What am I going to do, Sam?"

"Pilates?"

Randy sighed again. "That's not what I want."

"We can go to a gym. Do some muscle group training. You need a spotter, and I'm a good spotter."

Randy was shaking his head, a sad face. Sam knew he just wanted to make progress on pointe. The problem was, he was definitely making progress in it. Sam could understand the urge.

"We'll figure out what to do. But for now, let's go take Princess and Darla for a walk."

"I guess."

Sam got them ready and Randy picked up his coat. Sam reasoned that his day was still going better than Nancy's. Nancy was currently following Maya around as she went to every designer store to sourly return everything she'd received for Christmas and exchanging them for other things. I'd be an extremely long day.

Sam put on his coat and watched Princess's quickly wagging tail. Darla was staring up at him wearing her pink plaid harness. Her ruby fur was shining magnificently even in the dull light in here. He picked her up and Randy picked up Princess.

"Wait, we have to bring your medicine and a snack," Sam said, going toward the kitchen.

"I'll be fine." So flippant.

"No, you won't."

Sam got it out of the fridge and tucked the packet inside Randy's purse. He nodded and they went out into the hallway. There was a woman wearing furs waiting for the elevator with someone they could only describe as her butler. Randy petted Princess as they waited. Sam sighed silently behind them as he held Darla securely.

In Hokkaido, Takuya was in his bed, wondering about today. He'd been to a pretty good competition the other day. It was at a small hip hop club in Sapporo. They had a website, and posted up videos of the three winners. Takuya had just barely managed to be in third place. He felt pretty good about himself. He just wanted to place. This competition had gotten him a good 5,000 yen. But, first place was 20,000 yen. That would have helped his mom out way more. New years was just around the corner. He wanted his siblings to have a good one. They'd be watching Kohaku Uta Gassen and he wanted them to have some sweet treats while they did. But the bakery in town was charging so much money for a good set. He had to look at the local promoters and see which competitions were coming up and if there were any new ones.

He wanted to sleep more, but he got up out of bed. It was pretty cold in here. His siblings were out of school for winter vacation. He'd have to put some logs on the fire, but first he had to go out and cut some to replace the ones he was going to use. He immediately was putting on his coat, putting on the hood and pulling the strings to secure it around his face. He thought for a second and thought better of it. He swung his head around the doorframe.

"Come out and play," he called to his siblings.

"Noo, Pokemon is on."

"Come on. It'll be on again."

"But this is a new episode!"

He thought maybe it was okay to wait. He checked the time and there would only be ten more minutes left in the episode. He sat on the couch with his siblings. He thought it was kind of nice to sit with them.

After a while, they were able to make it outside. Takuya thought about their mom working in town. She used to work full time at the grocery store, but had been reduced to part time recently. Takuya tried not to think about the fact that it halved their money. His mom was trying to be cheerful since the new year was coming. She'd promised they'd even get KFC for it. That would take up Takuya's entire competition winnings and more. But, he was happy to do it if it meant they could have a nice new year's. It just meant he needed to win another competition as soon as possible. It made him itch to practice his skills.

His siblings liked to watch him practice. They'd try to copy him and that was pretty cute. Their mom would come home and find them all flailing around in the living room while MTV was on in the background. Takuya would get more and more silly in his moves just to see how silly his siblings could get. It was good to move his body, anyway. It would give him more stamina for dancing no matter what. In his opinion, his brother was actually getting pretty good.

He thought maybe after he chopped some wood and got a good fire going in the living room, he'd make his siblings some lunch. They'd eat, then he'd make them promise they wouldn't wander outside. Then he'd go on his computer and look at competitions. A lot of clubs were looking for entertainment, and competitions were basically free entertainment. They'd need a lot of this for the new year's holiday. Takuya thought this was his best bet.

Mika was playing around, acting like a pony. Across the street, their neighbor's real horses were looking at them with interest. Takuya wondered if his neighbor wouldn't mind allowing his siblings to ride his horses again. Mika usually got to ride one for her birthday. But, it was going to be the new year soon. He thought better of it. Maybe his family was visiting and he was busy. He'd ask after the new year.

He chopped about twenty pieces of wood and arranged them on the log pile for drying. He picked up some good one and gave them to his brother to carry inside. He gave one to Mika and she was playing around with it and that was okay. He piled some real wood, hefty stuff, in his arms and they all went into the house.

When the wood was arranged on the brazier, he lit it carefully, telling the kids to stand back. They all clapped when it came to a good crackling. He settled them on the couch and turned on the TV. His brother was playing with action figures and Takuya made sure to keep his ears open for possible bullying about them towards Mika. But, they seemed to be playing well for now. He went into the kitchen to make some noodles for everyone. He thought it might not take too long.

He mixed a sauce for the noodles, thinking about flavors. Vegetables went into the boiling water, some peas and onions. No meat today. They'd have some meat for dinner, whatever their mom brought home on sale. He thought he'd make dinner also. Their mom would be tired and would take care of his siblings. They'd be bouncing off the walls, especially Mika, by dinner time because they were tired. It was a routine.

He called them when the noodles were done and they climbed into their seats. Takuya said the small thanks and they were respectful of it. They dug in and Takuya felt proud of himself, seeing them eating without complaining. That must mean it was decent, even for kids to like it. He made a mental note about the recipe. However, Mika was still putting the onions to the side. That was okay. She didn't like onions. This was well known.

After the meal, Takuya washed the dishes with his little brother, teaching him the proper way. It would take a while until he could do it himself. Takuya was patient. It would be a process, but in the end his brother would know how to do it for the rest of his life. That made Takuya feel proud, too. Some day soon, he'd get his little brother to teach Mika.

He went to his room. It was almost 2pm now. It had been a productive three hours. He sat at his computer. After he sent out inquiries about upcoming competitions, he thought playing a computer game could be good.

He was still thinking about which computer game when he got the email. It was in three languages, which made Takuya crease his eyebrows. Japanese was first. English was second. French was third. Takuya spoke alright English, because he liked hip hop. In order to understand the lyrics, which were often rapid fire, you had to know it. It took him reading the Japanese and English parts several times to fully take in what this person was saying.

It was from a Suzanne Sherling. She said she represented an artist named Anais Barbier. It went over her history, who her famous father is, things like that. It went on to say that the production company was looking for dancers for the summer tour, which would take place in July of next year.

It was a recruitment email. For a major artist.

Takuya read over the email ten more times.

He fell back in his seat, staring into space.

"I saw your video for Mad Mike's. We're very interested. Please send an email back or call this number and ask for Suzanne... Japanese, English, or French is fine. If you would like to speak Japanese, please ask for Yuna..."

An email back. Calling.

After a few minutes, he realized they wanted him to respond back. To say yes. To accept. He realized his mouth was open.

He decided to call the number. It was more direct. What if they didn't see his email? Suddenly, he hadn't wanted anything more in his life.

He didn't even think about the money until the phone was ringing and then he lost his voice.

"Hello! This is Yuna Kisaragi! Are you inquiring about violin lessons?"

Violin lessons? A lead weight descended into his stomach.

"Um- violin lessons? I received an email about dancing...um...for a tour. For um...Anais Barbier?"

There was a pause. He sighed inside. He had to know it was a scam. That's what it had to be. Someone had seen his video on Mad Mike's. Maybe it was someone who was in competition with him-

"Ah! For Anais! Yes! I didn't know they were sending out emails yet! Yeah, I can get you in touch with the team. Are you Japanese? How exciting!"

This girl was full of life. He found himself smiling.

"Yes, I'm Japanese."

What followed was a long conversation. He still wasn't entirely convinced it was real. He really wanted it to be. He thought he was being stupid, too. But, if there was any chance it could be real... He had to take that chance.

At the end of it, she said there'd be more emails and correspondence and to check his email.

"Um..." he didn't want to say this, but he thought he should.

"Yes?" she was still so cheerful.

"I'm kind of...seventeen...is that okay?"

There was a pause.

"Hello?"

She came back, cheerful as ever. He sighed in relief. "When's your birthday?"

"June..."

"Oh okay. That's perfectly fine. Our homebase is in America, so we go by their laws. In America and Europe, adult age is eighteen. You'll be eighteen before the tour starts. You can sign your contract as soon as you're eighteen. Okay?"

Fishy. But it sounded more legitimate. He so wanted it to be legitimate.

"Thank you very much."

"Yes! Well, I'll send you an email detailing what we went over, and wait for another email from Suzanne, okay? She'll want a resume and a letter detailing your dance experience."

"Okay."

They said good-bye, and Takuya was still staring into space. He was standing in the kitchen and his brother and sister was fighting over Ultraman action figures like nothing at all had just happened.

Maya was going nuts in the apartment. It really didn't seem like a big enough space for her. Randy had gone to a violin lesson with Yuna, so Sam was officially on break. He'd gone back to the apartment, and there were no breaks to be had there.

"How am I supposed to spend New Year's? I can't be with my friends!"

Anais looked like she had a headache. "Some of them are in Europe. We can fly them in."

"I guess."

"New Year's in Paris will be much better. You will see."

"I suppose."

Sam looked up from the book he was reading. Princess copied him from his lap. He couldn't believe that had worked. Had Anais really pacified Maya?

"Ugh. I'm going out."

"Take my credit card."

"I already have it."

"Young lady..."

Anais was too frustrated to fight.

"What? I was returning stuff today. I needed your card to do that."

It was logical, but she'd still gone into her mother's purse without permission. Anais just waved her away. Maya left the apartment and an immediate calm went over everything. Anais sat on the opposite couch and started massaging her temples.

"You look like you need a coffee," Sam observed.

"I think I need a nap. But, we're so busy. They're already inquiring about dancers. I didn't see any of them. I didn't approve anything. They're really getting on it, though. I know the new album has been finalized, but we haven't recorded anything."

Sam didn't want to comment on that. The business side of her career was, well...none of his business.

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I guess they want to get a jump on it, because they want to release a single for radio in the spring? That's what I heard. That means I'm going into the recording booth pretty soon. I don't know what to do about it. This situation with Michael... I can't go back to L.A. But we can't record it here. I don't know what to do... They'll want to do a music video for the single, too. I bet they'll want dancers for that. Then I'll do TRL in France. That's usually the first press stop...then all the press. And the..." She looked like her headache was getting worse.

"Well, a small nap won't hurt anyone. You're waiting for a call from Suzanne, right? I'll tell you when she calls."

"Thank you, Sam... But you're not my assistant. Where is my assistant?"

Sam thought about Armand. "She's out grocery shopping."

"Oh lord..."

"I can call her."

"Um, no...it's ok. It's really important that she pick those up. Especially for Randy."

"Alright. I'm sure she'll be back soon. For now, take a nap. I really will answer Suzanne when she calls. She'll understand." He leaned forward and Princess jumped off his lap. He really wanted to let her know this. "You've been through a lot. The kids have been through a lot. You deserve to rest. You need to."

She seemed to be considering this. She let out a big sigh. "Can you get me some pain medicine for my head? I should lay down until it goes away at least."

Sam was satisfied with that. "I'll get you some pain medicine. The blanket Randy got is still under the tree. I'll get that, too."

"Thank you. Sorry for making you do this..."

"No problem at all. Not at all."

He went about getting those things. He came back soon. He watched her take the pain pills and then took the water back. He set it on the table and then spread the blanket out onto her. It had a strawberry pattern on it. It went nicely with her hair.

"Okay. Take a nap. I'll be right here."

"Thank you, Sam."

"No need to thank me."

Sam went back to his couch and picked up his book. The house was so quiet now. Too quiet. His eyes narrowed. He got up again to look for the puppy who no doubt was getting into mischief.

Randy's grandmother's chef was making dinner for the family as they sat in the living room. Randy was playing on his Gameboy, multiplayer with Sam. Sam was trying not to make any noise, but Randy was currently kicking his ass in Mortal Kombat and he didn't see how that could be fair.

"Hey, you're really...good at this," Sam said through his teeth as Randy got him again.

"You just need more practice."

He couldn't argue with that. He was going to, for sure. Really, Randy had time to practice this. He seemed to be on his Gameboy whenever he wasn't practicing violin or ballet. No wonder he was so good. Maybe Sam would have to start doing that, too. Give Randy more of a challenge. Yeah, he could frame it that way, rather than the urge to not get his ass kicked by a kid every day.

"Sam, will your wife be coming?"

Sam looked up at Anais. "Yeah, she can."

"Okay. I'll tell Armand to place another setting." Anais started texting rapidly. Sam got out his phone, too.

"Finish the round," Randy said, still absorbed.

"In a minute. Pause it, okay?"

He nodded, setting the Gameboy on his lap and scooping up Princess and scratching her behind the ears. She tried to swipe his hand away with her rapidly waving leg. It just made him laugh.

The family was quiet for now. Anais had expressed that she wanted Carter to come over, but he was preparing to go to Canada pretty soon. No time for family dinners, unfortunately.

As the winter night had descended, Takuya was outside in the freezing cold. He intended to cut some more wood, but he was instead staring at the emerging stars. His hands were in his pockets, but that wasn't warm enough. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to go inside.

There were millions of stars. Billions of them. He was aware the earth was spinning with him on it. It wasn't the stars moving. He tracked the movement of Suzaku opposite the moon. Watching its journey. It told him how long he'd been out here.

He was thinking about the email and the phone call. He couldn't shake that it was suspicious. He'd talked to his mom about it and she'd encouraged him to talk to the owner of Mad Mike's. He'd done that, and Shinya-san had said he had no idea about it, but that the 1st place winner had called him about it, too. This led him to ask Shinya-san for that boy's number and he'd called him, too. The following phone call with that boy hadn't been encouraging.

"Of course it's a scam. You're an idiot if you think it's real. Who are you, right? Who am I? Why would a major artist want us? There's loads of better dancers. Why wouldn't they hire them? Don't call them back."

But, Takuya had to call them back. He had to take that chance.

He jumped when he realized the phone call had told him to make a resume and write a letter. He had no idea how to do either of these things. Just what would the letter include? He knew of resumes, but he'd never written one before. He ran inside like something was chasing him.

Spoons were clinking gently as everyone was eating their soup course. Today was a fancy dinner in the dining room. Nancy and her husband were there, and so was Sam's wife. Maya was disinterested, but Anais had put an end to Maya's phone use. It was currently in her grandmother's purse and she'd never dare to go in there.

"We'll be going to the theater tonight," Randy's grandmother suddenly spoke up. "We'll be in our box. Does anyone want to come with us? There's six seats. We're seeing The Marriage of Figaro."

"I want to go to the theater with you. Um..." Randy spoke up, then switched to French. This made Sam sit up a little straighter.

"My wife and I would like to come as well, if that would be alright," he piped up immediately. He was thinking about helping Randy if he got into medical trouble. They were eating a big meal with a variety of foods. No telling how his body might react. It was good for Sam to be there, and his wife also, if he needed them. There was no way his grandmother and grandfather would be prepared. They were very kind, but they weren't around him enough to know his symptoms or their severity. Randy translated for him

"It is Italian," Randy's grandmother went on in very broken English as a courtesy to Sam, looking concerned in his direction. "Is alright?"

He nodded, smiling pleasantly. "We look forward to it. Randy's always taking us to see classical performances. We'd love to add another one to our list."

Randy translated for him. She looked very pleased with that.

"Marguerite," Randy's grandfather said. He spoke in French to her and she nodded. She turned to Sam and he sat up even straighter.

She started speaking, and when she was done, Randy translated for her.

"They want to get a dessert after the show. Do you and your wife want to come with us?"

He nodded eagerly. A dessert. He definitely needed to be with Randy for that.

Both of Randy's grandparents looked pleased. Sam thought it was good, anyway. He'd be additional security if they needed it. They were bringing their body guard as well, but it was good to have him with them as well.

"I wish I could go," Anais said. "But I'm too busy, unfortunately. They want me to look at fabric samples at the office. It all looks the same to me, anyway. Six different kinds of black sequins. I'm not sure why they don't just pick one."

Maya swallowed her soup quickly. "It's an aesthetic. What do you want to say to the world with the color the black sparkles? Red would be very different than purple."

Randy mocked her under her breath. "Red would be very different than purple," he said in a voice. Sam almost sneeze laughed his soup out of his mouth.

"Hmm. Well, I don't know what aesthetic they're going for this time. Sultry, maybe. Is red too bold?"

"Sultry... I'd say pink is good."

"Come with me to the office. You have a good eye."

"Okay."

Sam saw a hint of a smile on Maya's face. It was incredible.

Their soups were taken away, and the main course replaced it. Now this was something that Sam couldn't wait to dig into. The massive filet mignon made his mouth water and his eyes almost start to also. They waited for Randy's grandfather to dig in first, then everyone started eating. His grandmother started talking again in French, and it was pleasant to hear her.

She had a very different accent than all of them. She'd grown up in Marseille, and met Randy's grandfather as a dancing show girl of sorts at a club there. Apparently he'd been so captivated by her that he couldn't resist. They were married two weeks later. It had been the scandal of the 50's. Everyone thought it was a shotgun wedding. But, Sam had seen pictures of Marguerite Barbier from those days. She looked like an even more buxom Goldie Hawn. Sam didn't think he'd have been able to resist, either. All those rumors were dispelled, though, when Anais came along two years later.

But, Marguerite had a country sort of accent. It was soothing to listen to. Sam admired her as well, because while all these glamorous women of her new stature were getting plastic surgery after plastic surgery to remain young looking, she'd allowed herself to age naturally. Now she looked like any other grandmother, except when she was wearing the fanciest gowns like royalty and the most incredibly expensive jewelry you'd ever seen in your life. Her jewelry collection was legend, because Alain Barbier loved to gift these to his humble wife.

He thought about what might be appropriate to wear to the opera. He did have a suit, but he wasn't sure his wife had a dress that could rival anything Marguerite would wear. Maybe that was okay. But, he wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible.

After dinner, he brought this up to Anais. She was touched that he was concerned for his wife like this. She invited her into her closet. Marguerite got in on it as well, and Sam's wife looked at him like she was on some kind of makeover show. She looked absolutely delighted.

Sam went to their hotel to grab his suit. He got the suit bag and went immediately back to the apartment to get ready. When he got back, he saw the apartment was full of activity. He went into the bathroom and put on his nice grey suit and navy blue tie. He fixed his hair with some of Mr. Barbier's pomade.

When he came out, he saw Maya on the couch not paying attention to anyone, wagging her feet as she smiled at her phone, texting away. Probably to one of her friends.

"Where's Randy?" he asked.

"In his room getting ready."

Oh, of course. Sam thanked her and went to Randy's room. What met him in there was comical.

Randy was pawing at the top of his back, then the bottom. He was attempting to zip up a nice light grey dress. Sam remembered packing it for him before they'd come here. He was happy to see it be of use. His wife in particular was fond of it.

"I'll help," Sam chuckled. "How long have you been struggling with this?"

"I don't know. A while."

Sam pulled the zipper up and Randy smoothed down the dress. It was a ruched dress with a deep cowl neck. The spaghetti straps were strips of rhinestones. It sparkled nicely. It gave Sam an idea.

"You should wear some diamonds with that," he suggested. "Go see your grandmother."

"Do you really think she'd let me wear diamonds?" he asked, maybe a little quietly.

"Well, you're fourteen now. That's old enough, I think. Ask her for some Elizabeth Taylor diamonds."

"Oh, I don't think she knew Elizabeth Taylor..." he walked out of the room. Sam's eyebrows raised. He hadn't been serious, but...had she?

In about thirty minutes, Randy was wearing diamonds with a small bow and Chanel logo across his collarbone. Maya had done his hair and put some nice silver and rhinestone clips in it. It was a pleasant up'do. Very age appropriate. He looked like a teenager going for a night on the town. He stepped into some matching shoes like a princess and Sam thought he really did look like a princess. As he should, considering who his grandparents were. He was happy that Randy got to experience this.

Sam's wife was wearing an orange ballgown that was understated despite the color. She seemed uncomfortable as she put on white opera gloves.

"Is this too fancy?" she whispered to him. "I can't believe this. I feel like the Queen of England..."

"Trust me, it's appropriate. Look at Mrs. Barbier."

Marguerite was wearing something not inappropriate for Marie Antoinette. It was that caliber of fancy. She was even wearing ostrich feathers in her hair. They looked like they were shooting out like fireworks from an enormous egg shaped yellow jewel. Sam wondered what kind of jewel it was. If it was a diamond, he'd have a heart attack.

Anais wrapped a diamond studded cuff around Sam's wife's wrist before she could react. She gasped and her hand went to her chest.

"It matches this," she said, wrapping an indeed matching choker around her neck. Sam's wife looked like she could cry.

"You trust me with these?" she asked.

"Why wouldn't we? Anyway, they're insured."

"But I bet they're irreplaceable..."

"You won't lose them. Don't worry. And if you do, no one can sell them. They're traceable."

That made Sam stand up a little straighter again. He wondered how much in total in jewelry everyone was wearing this evening. Even the tie clip Mr. Barbier was wearing looked expensive.

Furs wear secured around everyone's shoulders. Mr. Barbier put a fedora on his head and gestured to go. Sam was now aware that there was a car waiting for them downstairs and it had probably been there a long time. Nothing but the best for Mr. Barbier and his wife.

Upon going downstairs, Sam discovered that a white limo was waiting for them. It felt like they were going to a wedding. Sam slid in and helped his wife inside. They sat along the interior wall, and Randy came next. Sam took his gloved hand and he was smiling. Randy sat next to them. Finally, the Barbiers came in and sat on the back seat. Their security guard came in and sat on a seat lining the opposite wall. He immediately started to pour very fancy champagne for everyone. Sam felt a little overwhelmed, taking the glass for his wife. He took his own glass. Even Randy had a tiny bit, just a splash.

Mr. Barbier was toasting in French, but he heard the words for "new year" in there. They all toasted and drank a little bit. Mr. Barbier switched to English and started telling a long story about another French singer that Sam had never heard of. An old pal of his. Sam knew he wasn't just talking himself up. Mr. Barbier was too humble for that. So, Sam just enjoyed hearing the story.

Mrs. Barbier took Randy's glass away after a few minutes, likely not wanting him to finish it. He looked grateful. She handed it to the security guard and he held it for the rest of the way.

At the National Theater Garnier, they walked to the entrance. Here was a real test of Parisians. Mr. Barbier got out of the limo first, helping his wife. Some fans were standing there, but they didn't intrude. They didn't move. A few of the ladies curtsied to Mrs. Barbier and she bowed to them as she continued to walk. Some of them politely waved to Randy and he waved back with a shy smile. That was it. No fuss. No screaming. No trying to step up on them. Just a quiet respect. Just them wanting a chance to see them and say hello. That was the kind of respect the Barbiers commanded in France. This kind of respect was why Anais had wanted to run away to here. It hit Sam like a train to the face.

Sam admired the tall columns that went up to the ceiling as they got up to the atrium. A doorman opened the door for them, bowing. They paid him back in kind and entered the grand foyer. A docent met them and immediately led them to what presumably was their family box.

Sam had never been in this theater before. Paris had a lot of them. Six national theaters alone. To a non-French speaker, it was easy to get them confused. But, he saw Randy's face as they all took their seats. His grin was wider than he'd seen it even on Christmas. Even wider than when he'd received Princess as a Christmas present. It meant all of the world to Sam.

He was so glad Randy was about to enjoy himself like this. He needed it. A couple of hours where he could really be away from the world. It definitely felt like a fantasy to Sam. He held his wife's hand tightly and it didn't even feel like her hand. Way too fancy. Who'd have thought two kids from Torrance would end up here? The family's box was practically on the stage. Suddenly, he realized just why the family had dressed like this. The dress code was pure elegance at this theater judging from the other patrons, but the family was like royalty. There was an expectation. Suddenly Sam felt much more comfortable in his suit.

The overture for the opera started and he relaxed. He'd been to operas before with Randy. Randy usually sat so forward in his seat, so into the show. He'd often talk to Sam after, how he imagined the music in his head independent of the show. It was fascinating. Sam never told Randy just how fascinated he was. He'd learned that kind of talk made Randy timid and intimidated. He didn't like compliments. They made him too nervous.

These thoughts made him pay attention to Randy, too. But, he seemed to be doing great. Sam was smiling. He was pretty sure he'd smile through the whole show.

Afterward, they were in the limo again. A light rain had started, and the theater staff had leisurely taken them to their limo while holding an absolute ceiling of black umbrellas over them. Mrs. Barbier had thanked them lightly and they were all set to go. Sam couldn't believe they wouldn't have to tip them, but he kept doing the mental equivalent of pinching himself. His wife looked similarly stressed. She kept pawing at the diamond choker around her neck and rubbing her bracelet, probably to check desperately if they were still there.

They arrived at an ice cream parlor. It thankfully had an awning. It definitely looked deserted, but open. Sam mentally kicked himself for thinking it'd have other patrons in it. Of course it wouldn't. They made their way inside and the staff curtsied to them. They led them to their seats, saying kind things in French. One of them made the mistake of asked Mr. Barbier how the opera was and Mr. Barbier went into a long story. It made Randy laugh, so Sam was smiling at this. The whole thing was a lot more casual than he thought it would be after their adventure at the theater.