After the Ball is Over    After the Ball is Over by Diane Trap

  

 Standard disclaimers... Thank you kindly! 

 After the Ball is Over 

 By Diane Trap
 trap@rhett.libs.uga.edu 

 Just that quick, Frannie stopped having a good time. Ray could tell.
Frazier was dancing with the Dragon Lady, not even a slow dance or
anything like that, but some sort of square-dance kind of thing with
bagpipes and fiddles. "It's a reel," Frazier had been explaining when the
music started, "A traditional--" 

 The Dragon Lady had come up behind him, grabbed his arm with a short
"Constable!" and hauled him out on the dance floor. It looked like all the
muckety-mucks were dancing this one, so Ray guessed Ms. Thatcher had
needed a partner, but that wasn't all of it; the expression on her face
might be saying 'I'm only dancing with you because I have to' and
Frazier's face might be saying 'Understood' but every time their eyes met,
every time their hands touched, the air crackled between them, strong
enough that Ray almost expected the lights to flicker. 

 Frannie was watching them, and if Ray could tell Ms. Thatcher hadn't
picked Benny to dance with 'cause he wouldn't trip over his boots during
an allemand-left or whatever it was they were doing Frannie must be
feeling it like a kick in the pants. One second his baby sister was
looking like a kid at Christmas, the next second she was looking like
someone had poured a drink down her dress. Just that quick. Her chasing
after Frazier was kind of embarrassing, but jeez...Ray poked her in the
arm. 

 "This must be some kind of weird Canadian thing," he muttered in her ear.
"You wanna get out of here?" 

 Frannie swallowed hard. "Yeah." 

 Ray caught Frazier's eye and gave him a see-you-later wave. The mountie
was startled enough to miss a do-si-do but Ray was headed for the door.
The ballroom of the Pick Congress was crowded, but it was crowded with
Canadians, so it wasn't hard to push a way through. Ray looked back;
Frannie had got caught behind a knot of embassy types and was just
standing there looking lost, like she didn't remember anything he'd taught
her about crowd management. 

 Ray went back, grabbed her arm, hauled her out. She kind of stumbled over
her feet, bumping into an elegant couple dressed in black and white. The
woman rolled her eyes and said something in to her date, low enough that
Ray didn't catch the words, just that she had a British accent. *Penguins
do Masterpiece Theatre,* Ray thought, giving Frannie a second to get her
balance back. 

 "I thought I was going to melt in there," Ray said. Frazier hadn't been
sweating. The Dragon Lady hadn't been either. Maybe Canadians were born
without pores. 

 Frannie ran her hands over the skirt of her pink taffeta dress and
hitched up her big puffy sleeves. In the living room at home Ray had
thought she'd looked kind of cute--for a sister, anyway--but the penguin
lady looked her over and said the word "Bridesmaid" just loud enough for
them to hear. 

 Ray turned on her. "Yeah. And everything on my body but my underwear is
rented. You got a problem with that?" 

 The penguin lady tittered. Her slinky black number hadn't come from
Dominick's Discount Bridal, and her pearls hadn't come from J. C.
Penney's. What would the Chicago PD do to a detective who belted a woman
at an official function of the Canadian consulate? Frannie grabbed Ray's
arm before he could find out. "Let's just go, okay?" 

 "Sure." Ray glared at the penguin lady. "The food was better at cousin
Carmelita's wedding anyway." 

 The penguin lady tittered again. Frannie kept a tight grip on Ray's
sleeve as she dragged him down the hall. 

 "I mean it," Ray said. "Did you taste that caviar? Yuck! Do you know what
people pay for that stuff?" 

 "You can be so dumb!" A month ago Frannie had made it clear; Frazier was
going to the Queen's Birthday Ball and she would be too or Ray could
forget having children. She'd kissed him when he brought the invitation
home and gone with him to the tux shop to nag the clerks herself. Now she
just looked like her pink dyed-to-match high heels were giving her a
blister. 

 "What?" Ray demanded. Frannie just kept marching, her eyes fixed on the
big glass lobby doors and her lip bit between her teeth. "Would you toss a
few fish eggs on toast and call it a party?" 

 "Ray!" 

 Frannie reached for the door. Ray grabbed it and let her go through
first, one hand on the small of her back to usher her through 'cause it
was something guys wearing tuxes did and maybe giving a little shove
'cause she was his sister. He waved at the doorman, who was wearing an Abe
Lincoln hat with his red uniform. "Hey! Can we get a cab here?" 

 The doorman cocked an eye at him blew a short blast on his whistle,
calling down a Checker from across the street. Ray stepped aside as an old
guy with a girl young enough to be his granddaughter on his arm came out
of the hotel. The cab pulled up. The doorman opened its door and smiled at
the old guy. 

 Ray pulled Frannie toward the curb. "Hey! That's our--" 

 The old guy loaded the girl into the cab and got in behind her. The
doorman shut the door and slipped a folded bill into his pocket. From the
smug look on his face it had to be a twenty at least. 

 "Hey!" 

 "Ray! Please!" 

 He looked down at his sister. The blush on her cheeks was still bright
Fiesta Pink but her forehead was blotchy with shiny patches of sweat. Her
eyeliner looked kind of melted, like it was going to start running down
her face any second. She wouldn't look him in the eye. "We can walk back
to the car." 

 "Frannie--" She started walking down the sidewalk. Ray pointed at the
doorman. "You got a stupid hat, pal!" 

 The car was a good twenty-minute walk away, over in the parking lot of
the Field Museum, because Frannie hadn't wanted the Pick Congress parking
valets to see her climbing out of the Riv and Ray sure as heck wasn't
going to spring for a cab to drive them all the way from home. Frannie was
at the corner, waiting to cross Michigan Avenue when Ray caught up with
her. 

 "You want to walk through Grant Park at this hour? Are you crazy?" 

 She didn't answer. The light changed. She started across the street. Ever
since she'd learned to walk Ray'd had to work to keep up with her; she was
usually running around at speeds normal humans considered unsafe and
liable to change direction at any minute besides, but tonight she was
walking like a little robot, with her back straight and her eyes pointed
straight ahead. 

 "You're dragging your skirt," Ray said when they reached the other side.
"Hey! Wait a minute!" 

 She stopped, heaving her shoulders with a little sigh. Ray knelt down,
bunched up some of the material and tied it in a knot to keep it off the
ground. 

 "It doesn't matter," Frannie said. 

 "It's...you know, pretty." He stood up. "You'll have to tell cousin
Carmelita you found a place to wear it again--" 

 Frannie started walking. He'd told her, and told her, and told her, stay
out of dark places, don't walk alone, keep your head up and look like
you're going to bust the chops of any guy who looks at you funny, but in
the trance she was in tonight she might as well be carrying a sign that
said 'Mug me please.' Ray took off his tux jacket so any yahoos out
tonight would be able to get a good look at the gun in his shoulder
holster and fell into step beside her. 

 The night was hot and sticky, like a wool sweater you couldn't take off.
Every yellow streetlight had a haze around it. There were some guys out on
the basketball courts, playing slow. One of them had a boom box playing
old Motown, sad songs sung in tight harmony. 

 "You okay?" Ray asked. 

 Frannie kept walking. Back in high school, she'd been a freshman, he'd
been a senior, and the night of the Homecoming dance he'd scored a date
with Rosalita Buscotti, Italian-American Dream Girl 1981. During the last
dance of the night Rosalita had taken one look at Gino Vasselli, the
boyfriend she'd said she'd broken up with, and left Ray standing on the
dance floor, looking like a jerk. Frannie'd come up and finished out the
dance with him, not saying a word, just put a hand on his shoulder and
went around the floor with him like they were dancing to Grandma Vecchio's
old Sinatra records. It hadn't stopped Ray from feeling like a jerk, but
hey, dancing with your sister was better than dancing alone. 

 Frannie'd been so excited tonight, chattering away to anyone she met,
even telling some old guy all the ins and outs of the American cosmetic
industry and just why you couldn't mix any old eyeshadow with any old
eyeliner. The old guy had smiled and nodded, looking a little lost, like a
lot of people Frannie talked to did, and Frazier had stood by, looking not
pained, exactly, but incredibly patient, waiting to explain till the old
guy had gone off to get a drink that he was the Romanian ambassador and
couldn't speak English. 

 They'd met up with the Dragon Lady later, catching her for just a second
as she'd been working the room, cool and sophisticated, saying just the
right thing to every person she met, wearing a dress that Nancy Reagan
would send back for a little livening up. That was the woman Benny had the
hots for? Ray tried to imagine Ms. Thatcher with her head thrown back,
moaning in passion, and shuddered involuntarily. Nope. Never happen. 

 What was wrong with Frazier anyway? Frannie was kind of goofy, yeah, but
she was okay...of course, if Frazier laid a finger on her, friend or no
friend, Ray would have to break him in two. He figured Benny would
understand. There was probably a similar custom among the Inuits. 

 Frannie stumbled a bit, straightened up, and kept walking, a little
slower than she had been. They were in sight of the Field Museum now.
Behind Shedd Aquarium the lake was dead still. 

 "I think I might get promoted to shift manager," Frannie said. "Did I
tell you that?" 

 "No." Ray glanced back. No potential muggers were following them. "That's
great, Frannie." 

 "I'll get a raise." She squared her shoulders. "Maybe even enough to move
out, get a place of my own, you know? Sheila--that's my supervisor--says I
have a real future with the company, like I might even be able to get out
of sales and into the office or something--" 

 Ray had seen people being brave before, face disaster, pick their chins
up off the floor and just keep going. From Frannie it was like she was
lying to him. He punched her in the arm. "Hey, shut up, okay?" 

 She went quiet. Ray didn't know what she saw in Frazier--well, he didn't
know what any woman saw in Frazier, but it seemed like a lot of women saw
a lot in him. What did she think, that Frazier would settle down and be a
good husband, come home from guarding the Consulate and sit down to a
plate of pasta every night? Not that Frannie didn't make good pasta. Benny
seemed to like Frannie well enough, but then, the way he was dancing with
the Dragon Lady... even Frannie couldn't argue with that, and Frannie
could argue with anything. 

 One more street to cross. The Riv was sitting all alone in the big
parking lot. Ray got his keys out of his pocket. 

 "I'm okay," Frannie said. 

 Ray unlocked the passenger door, and even opened it for her. It took her
a minute to stuff all of her skirt in the car. As he was going around to
the driver's side Ray saw a bottle cap on the ground, bent and picked it
up. 

 He got into the car, shut the door, and put the keys in the ignition.
"Hold out your hand," he said. 

 "What?" 

 "Just do it!" 

 Frannie rolled her eyes and stuck out her hand. He put the bottle cap in
it. "There. Don't say I never gave you nothing." 

 "You're out of your mind." Frannie slumped against the seat. "You're
really out of your mind, Ray, you know that?" 

 Ray started up the car. The Riv's eight cylinders purred like kittens.
"'Kay, Frannie. Put your seat belt on. Let's go home."