Post by Jack Carrington on Jun 16, 2013 6:00:05 GMT
A little party never killed nobody We're gonna dance until we drop. 'Cause right here, right now is all we've got. just a secret |  |
| Saturday, June 23rd. 10:28 p.m. Central Park. Now playing: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody The tables had long since been set. The wine had long since been poured. The guests had long since crowded themselves into the tented arena in the center of Central Park, where anxiety was spread between the gossip and outlandish attire. The tent stood at least twenty feet from the ground, strung with lights and lanterns of multiple colors, each changing within sixty-second intervals. Beneath the tent was the heart of the party that had yet to begin, adorned with white table cloths spread along nearly thirty rounded tables that seated twelve; most guests were forced to stand casually near the bar, drink of choice in their hand. Food was exquisite, the wine was excellent and expensive. The evening tasted, smelled and suggested the planning of Jack Carrington. Now, if Jack had it his way, the party would have been held indoors. The Carrington-Bradford promotional wasn’t his blueprint; in fact, it was his father’s instructions to hold the promotional in a central location. Similar instructions were given to the chiefs of the various other firms across the United States. The only difference? New York’s promotional could have, possibly, been the largest. Word spread like a wildfire - the rumor was that someone rented the place out, a man with the money to do it. Suddenly, it warped into a city-wide invitation to the party of a century. William Carrington didn’t care how it was done - or portrayed - so long as the Carrington-Bradford logo was plastered along every tangible thing. Jack’s cigar was still fresh after winning a hand against a fellow attorney from the office. Grinning, Jack stood to shake hands with the man before disposing of his cigar and returning to a glass of wine. Jack had no interesting in joining the party outside; in fact, his intentions were to remain secluded within the smaller, luxurious tent located on the stage beneath the main tent. The stage being at the head of the tent, Jack had the luxury of occasionally peering outside of his tent to watch the party-goers. They laughed and mingled and made merry fools of themselves; in truth, the whole ordeal was ridiculously amusing. The man who had recently retired from their poker game rested a hand lightly on Jack’s shoulder, encouraging him to say a few words to the audience. Jack had refused this offer only thirty minutes ago, and he politely declined again. Perhaps it was rude of him. The entirety of the guests below hadn’t the slightest clue of their host. They had arrived to a party blindly expecting something great, and while the night would advance, Jack was expected to make an appearance. The problem was, Jack didn’t want to make an appearance - no, he much rather enjoyed anonymously observing from his tent above the scene. Before Jack could protest, the man clapped him on the back and claimed that he would introduce him anyway. Jack reached for his colleague to pull him back inside the tent, but he was too late. Leaning against the nearest chair, Jack listened closely to the announcement. Minor microphone feedback. The crowd hushed, the music silenced. A small uproar began, an array of cheers and claps. There was a whistle and someone in the crowd, apparently, owned some kind of horn. The man talked about what was to come - a fireworks spectacle, endless music and card games. There were limitless drinks and imported foods, and a promise of a night to never forget. Much to Jack’s dismay, Carrington-Bradford was only mentioned in passing. At that point, the man introduced the “man behind the magic”, as he called it. Jack rolled his eyes lightly, smirking lightly to himself. Jack turned to open the tent, but it was drawn for him on either side. Jack faced the crowd, momentarily stunned at the lights. The crowd cheered and created another uproar; it gave time for Jack to wave, nod to a few random patrons located near the front of the stage, and make his way to the microphone. His colleague passed him a playful ‘make-it-good’ glance. Jack returned the expression with a dignified raise of the eyebrows and a charming smile. This was the last thing Jack wanted to do. Nevertheless, he faced the microphone as the crowd hushed. “Friends, neighbors.” Jack grinned, his eyes scanning the people below. He couldn’t make out faces - he could hardly make out hair color. To him, they were all blobs of glitter and multiple bright glares. “I would like to welcome you all, and thank my colleague for his lavish description of me.” He glanced slightly to the man to his right, receiving a small chuckle from the audience below. “Tonight is a night to celebrate, and a night that I hope you will remember.” He grinned once more; before he could continue, the fireworks were cued a bit too early. An array of lights whirled into the sky and exploded above the tent. There was a hushed murmur throughout the crowd, and Jack laughed. “Well, then. Please, let the fun begin!” With his word, the music resumed and the fireworks accompanied the upbeat tune. | |
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