The Dinner Party Starts at Seven

 

By: Kenda

 

*As with many of my S&S stories, The Dinner Party Starts at Seven is written under the assumption that Jack Simon wasn’t killed until A.J. was approximately ten years old, as alluded to in the aired episode, Revolution Number 9 ½, and based on a work of fan fiction entitled Journey Into The Past by Brenda A.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

Cecilia Simon called up the stairway as she gathered up her purse, hat, and white gloves, “A.J.!  Come down here, please!" 

 

     "Rick!  Andy!  Get a move on!  Your mother and I are ready to leave!"  Jack Simon impatiently added while checking his pockets for his wallet and car keys.

 

     Two sets of footsteps could be heard running through the second story hallway, then bounding down the stairs.

 

     The young men halted in the living room, presenting themselves to their parents on this Saturday morning late in May.

 

     "Dad and I are ready to leave," their mother stated the obvious.

 

     Fifteen-year-old Rick nodded. “Okay, Mom.”

 

     "I've left Irene’s phone number on the kitchen bulletin board, Rick.  The name and phone number of the church where the wedding is being held is there, too.  I doubt that Dad and I will be home before midnight.”  The apprehensive mother turned to her husband. “What do you think, Jack?"   

 

     "I imagine it will be about midnight," Jack agreed.  "Santa Barbara is a few hours up the coast, and the family wants us to go out to dinner after the ceremony."

 

     "I don't know where we'll be eating, but I'll call you from the restaurant," Cecilia informed her oldest.

 

     "Don't worry, Mom, everything will be fine."  Rick was trying his best to sound grown up and responsible on this, the first occasion that he and A.J. were being left alone for such a long period of time.

 

     For just that reason Cecilia was nervous, despite the fact that she had thought this over and consulted with her husband before deciding to leave the boys for a whole day and on into the late evening hours.

 

     "If you need anything you call Aunt Edie or Aunt Pat.  They both promised me they'd be home all day and all night in case you need them."

 

     "Oh, Mom, we're not babies," Rick moaned.  "You didn't have to do that."

 

     "Yes, I did," was all Cecilia replied as she kissed her eldest, then turned to do the same to her youngest who was leaning against the sofa, an expression of boredom written clearly on his face.

 

     "You listen to Rick, A.J.  He's in charge today." 

 

     "I will," A.J. agreed while accepting his kiss.  'Rick's in charge' could only mean lots of fun, as far as young A.J. was concerned.

 

     "Both you boys behave yourselves,” Jack instructed. “Neither of you is to leave the yard today, do I make myself clear?" 

 

     "Yes, Dad," the boys agreed simultaneously to the rules that had been discussed earlier in the week.

 

     "Okay.  I'm counting on you both to prove to Mom and me that you can handle this type of responsibility," were Jack's final words on the subject as he reached out to give his oldest a fake punch to the jaw, and his youngest a thorough tousle of his blond locks.

 

     As hard as it was for Cecilia, she followed her husband to the door. "Goodbye, boys.  Oh, Rick, there's a casserole in

the--"

 

     "He knows that, dear," Jack gently reminded, urging his wife out the front door.

 

     Cecilia's head popped back in the doorway.      "And Dr. Bob's number is on the..."

 

     "He knows where Bob's number is, Cece.  Come on, let's go now."

 

     "And don't let A.J. climb up on a kitchen chair to reach the top cabinets! He likes to do that when you're not looking.  And don't let him--"

 

     "Honey, Andy hasn't climbed on a kitchen chair since he was six-years-old," Jack told his wife.  "They'll be fine.  Now come one, we've got to get going."

 

     Cecilia reluctantly let herself be pushed out the front door.  "Bye!  Oh, and boys!  Finish cleaning your room this morning!" 

 

     Jack gave his boys a wink and grin as he pulled the door closed.  "Have fun," he whispered.  "But not too much," was added half in jest, half in warning.

 

     "Okay, Dad," Rick smiled.

 

     The heavy wooden door closed firmly.  The boys crossed to the living room window and watched the car pull out of the driveway, then head up the street.

 

     When the Buick was finally out of sight A.J. rolled his eyes. "I didn't think they'd ever leave."

 

     "Me neither. Mom acts like they're gonna be gone for two weeks or something."

 

     "Yeah, I know.  Why was she so nervous?" 

 

     Rick shrugged.  "Beats me.  I guess just 'cause she's Mom, and this is the first time they've left us alone when they're goin' so far away, and for such a long time."

 

     "But they'll be back tonight, right?"  A.J. asked, seeking some reassurance.

 

     "Right, after we've gone to bed, but they'll be back tonight, A.J."

 

     "Well then, that's no big deal," A.J. stated, deciding that as long as his parents weren't gone all night, it wouldn't seem like they were really that far away.

 

     Both boys turned from the window, A.J. following Rick as he headed for the kitchen.  "No, it's not a big deal.  We'll be fine," Rick assured the nine and a half year old.  "Believe me, kid, Mom left plenty of phone numbers just in case we do need anybody, and she'll probably call about six times tonight just to check on us."

 

     Rick began pulling out the fixings for sandwiches.

 

     "Rick, it's only ten-thirty," A.J. pointed out while watching his brother.  "Mom never lets us eat lunch before noon.  We just had breakfast at eight.  Besides, she said we're supposed to finish cleaning our room."

 

     From where he had his head buried inside the refrigerator Rick responded,  "So?  Mom isn't here.  I'm in charge," he finished with a big grin, as he emerged with mayonnaise, mustard and pickles.

 

     A.J. smiled back.  "Yeah, I guess that's right.  You're in charge."  The boy scampered to the cookie jar.  "So I guess that means we can have chocolate chip cookies with our sandwiches, too."

 

     "Yep, I guess it does."     

 

     A few minutes later the boys sat down to a feast of double- decker cold cut sandwiches, chocolate chip cookies, and soda pop. 

 

     "Mom never lets us have pop with lunch,” A.J. said while taking a big swig of his favorite orange soda. “Only milk.”

 

     Rick smiled. "That's why I'm in charge today."

 

     A.J. smiled back, his upper lip now stained orange.  "You know, Rick, I think I'm gonna really like you bein' in charge."

 

     Rick laughed.  "I think I'm gonna like it too, kiddo."

 

     The boys finished their lunch in front of the T.V., another no-no, as food wasn't normally allowed in Cecilia Simon's spotless living room.  Three hours and two John Wayne westerns later, Rick decided that they should finish cleaning their room so that job was out of the way.

 

     "The living room's kind of messy now, Rick," A.J. pointed out, taking note of the empty plates, soda bottles, kicked off sneakers, and throw pillows that had somehow fallen off the couch.

 

     Rick assessed the damage.  "Yeah, I guess it is.  Man, how can a house get so messy so fast?" the teen wondered, thinking also of the dirty dishes in the kitchen left over from the lunch preparations, and of the jars he had taken out of the refrigerator that still remained sitting on the counter top, their lids off and scattered about.

 

     "Mom will have a fit if she sees what we've done since she left."

 

     "Well, we'll just have to make sure she doesn't see it," Rick said.  "I'll go up and finish cleaning our room, and you pick up in here.  We'll work on the kitchen together."

 

     "Good idea," the industrious A.J. agreed, already beginning to pick up the room as Rick had ordered.

 

     An hour later the boys were in the kitchen, Rick washing the dishes, A.J. drying.  They were just finishing when the phone rang.

 

     Rick walked over to pick up the receiver.  "I bet it's Mom."

 

     A.J. nodded while coming to stand by his brother's elbow.

 

     "Hello?" Rick answered.  "Hey, Carlos!  What's happenin', amigo?"

 

     A.J. moved to sit at the kitchen table as Rick's conversation with his friend, Carlos, dragged on.

 

     "Yeah, my folks left a couple of hours ago.

 

“No, we're not doing much of anything.

 

“Naw, I can't leave the house.  I promised my dad we'd stay right here.  Besides, I've got to baby-sit for A.J."

 

     "Hey!"  A.J. protested the use of the word ‘baby-sit.’

 

     "I've got to keep an eye on A.J.," Rick corrected to please his brother.  "Sure, you can come over.  They didn't say anything about us not havin' friends over.

 

“Okay, see you in a little while."

 

     Rick hung up the phone.  "Carlos is coming over."

 

     "Okay," A.J. agreed.  He liked it when Carlos came over and he got to hang around with the ‘big guys.’

 

     Fifteen minutes later, Carlos arrived on his bicycle.  He and Rick shot the bull for a while about the school week that had just passed, exchanging gossip regarding friends, teachers, and upcoming events.  A.J. sat at the kitchen table with them, only half listening to what they said, his concentration being given to the puzzle he had spread out before him.

 

     Rick rose to head for the refrigerator. “How about a soda, Carlos?”

 

     "Sure, Ricky."

 

     "A.J., you want another pop?"  Rick asked his younger brother.

 

     "Yeah," A.J. nodded eagerly, thrilled with the treat of eating what and when they wanted to.  In light of this fact, the blond rose and headed for the cookie jar again, bringing a plate of cookies back to the table for the three of them to share.

 

     "No more cookies after these, A.J.," Rick admonished.

 

     "But why?" 

 

     "'Cause Mom will notice so many are gone and start askin' a lot of questions.  We'll start in on the brownies the next time we wanna snack."

 

     A.J. was constantly awed by his brother's vast wisdom.  "Good idea, Rick," he agreed.

 

     "What time are your folks gonna be home?"  Carlos asked between swigs of Coke.

 

     "Around midnight."  Rick stated nonchalantly. “Maybe even later.”

 

     "Wow!  And they're leavin' you guys alone for all that time?"

 

     "Yeah," Rick boasted proudly.

 

     "Cool," Carlos nodded with respect.  After some thought he suggested, "You know, Ricky, we should call the girls and have a little party tonight."

 

     ‘The girls,’ were the current girlfriends of Carlos and Rick.  Eva Lopez was a pretty young girl of fifteen whom Carlos would go on to marry after high school.  The object of Rick's affections was his neighbor across the street, Betty Carol Simmons. 

 

     "Yeah.  That's a great idea!" Rick agreed.  "We could have a dinner party."

 

     "A dinner party?” Carlos asked. “What’s that?”  Not coming from the social background Rick did, Carlos had never been to a dinner party. 

     "A dinner party is where grownups get together, have a fancy meal, then play cards, or Scrabble, or just talk, or maybe dance a little."  Rick based his explanation on the dinner parties he'd seen his mother host.  "Here, I'll show you," he said, running off to the living room.

 

     The teen returned with the current issue of Better Homes and Gardens in his hands.  He leafed through it, finally pointing to a picture of three men and three women sitting around an elegantly set dinner table. 

 

     "Gee, that looks kind of fancy," Carlos stated, noting that the women were wearing expensive dresses and the men were in suits and ties.

 

     "That's what a dinner party is all about," Rick informed his friend.  "It's too stuffy for me, but girls really go for this kinda stuff."

 

     "Yeah, I guess Eva would like something like that," Carlos agreed.

 

     "My mom's got a real lace table cloth we could put on the dining room table, and candles, and we could use her best china."

 

     For the first time since this conversation began, A.J. looked up from his puzzle.  "I don't think that'd be such a good idea, Rick.  Using Mom's china, I mean."

 

     "Don't worry about it," Rick dismissed.  "I'll be careful."

 

     "But, Rick--"

 

     Before A.J. could say any more, Carlos said, "What will we have to eat?  We can't cook food like this."

 

     "Sure we can," Rick stated confidently.  He scanned the magazine article before him.  "It says here they're havin' marinated roast beef, potatoes boiled in their jackets... whatever that means, green beans with bacon and onions, salad, and baked Alaska.

 

     "We can't make stuff like that!"

 

     "Yes, we can. Roast beef ain't nothin' but hamburgers. I make great hamburgers, don't I, A.J.?"

 

     "Yeah, he does, Carlos," A.J. nodded as he got up on his knees to study the picture the older boys were looking at.

 

     "Yeah, and potatoes ain't nothin' more than potato chips, and we've got a bag of those in the cabinet.  And who wants a stupid vegetable anyway?  And salad ain't nothin' but lettuce and tomatoes cut up real small; we can do that.  And as for dessert, well..." Rick floundered on that one for a moment, knowing their mother would notice if any more cookies were taken from the cookie jar.

 

     "I can make the dessert!"  A.J. eagerly volunteered.  "I know exactly how Mom makes chocolate cake.  She takes flour, and cocoa, and sugar, and--"

 

     "Yeah, A.J. can make the cake," Rick interrupted.  "He makes a chocolate cake that's almost better than Mom's." 

 

     "Okay,” Carlos nodded. “This will be too cool!"

 

     "First we gotta call the girls and see if they can come," Rick stated, going to the phone to dial Betty Carol's number.

 

     Once the young woman was on the line Rick invited nervously, "Uh...Betty Carol, Carlos and I are hosting a dinner party tonight. Can you come?"  There was a pause while Betty Carol sought permission from her mother. 

 

"You can?  Great!

 

“What are you supposed to wear?"  Rick repeated his girlfriend’s question for Carlos and A.J. to hear.

 

     Carlos held up the magazine picture as a reminder to his friend. 

 

"Well...I guess it's kind of formal.  Not real formal like the prom or anything...but...well, kind of formal.  Carlos and I will wear ties," Rick stated firmly, as if that should give the Betty Carol an idea of what kind of evening the young men had planned.

 

     "The time?"  Rick shrugged in Carlos's direction.  He put his hand over the mouth piece of the phone, "How long will it take us to do all this stuff?"

 

     Carlos looked up at the kitchen clock to see it was a few minutes past four.  "Not that long, I guess.  Tell her seven."

 

     "Seven," Rick informed his date.  "Okay, great, see you at seven."

 

     Carlos took his turn at the phone next, soon having a commitment from Eva for a seven o'clock dinner date.

 

     "Now we gotta get busy," Rick stated as his friend hung up the phone.  He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled hamburger patties out of the freezer.  "How long will it take this stuff to thaw?"

 

     Carlos shrugged.  "An hour maybe?"

 

     "Sounds about right," Rick agreed.  "A.J., can you start making the cake?" 

 

     A.J. smiled, happy to have an important role in the dinner party preparations.  "Sure, Rick," he said, hopping off his chair and going to the cabinet to begin pulling out the ingredients he needed for the chocolate cake.

 

     Carlos and Rick rummaged through the linen closet upstairs, searching for the lace table cloth Rick had seen his mother use for countless number of dinner parties in the past.  Cecilia's organized, neat-as-a-pin linen closet was soon a jumbled mess, tablecloths and bed sheets thrown this way and that as the two teenagers relentlessly dug for the object of their desire. 

 

     "Here it is!"  Rick exclaimed, pulling the white cloth out from under a pile of sheets and pillowcases.

 

     "Wait, Rick," Carlos attempted to halt his friend as Rick headed for the stairway.  "Your mama's closet is a mess now.  We'd better put it back like it was when we started."

 

     "Aw, don't worry about it.  I'll straighten it up later," Rick dismissed, running down the stairs with the prized tablecloth in hand.

 

     A dubious Carlos followed in Rick's wake, helping his friend to spread the cloth over the cherry dining room set that was at one end of the Simons' large living room.

 

     Rick studied the magazine picture he held before him.  "Okay, now we need some candles.” Rick pointed to the big china hutch.  “The brass candle holders are in that drawer over there.”  

 

     Rick ran into the kitchen to hunt for some candles and to check on the progress of that night's dessert.  "How's it going, A.J.?" 

 

     The blond boy was covered from head to toe with flour.  Cake ingredients were spilled all over the counter top, but A.J. was happily stirring the batter with a big spoon.  "Fine.  It'll be ready to go in the oven in a few minutes."

 

     Rick walked over, stuck a finger in the chocolate batter, and licked it clean.  "Mmmmmm.  This is great!"

 

     A.J. smiled with pride.  "Thanks."

 

     Rick left the room, calling over his shoulder, "Come get me when you're ready to put that in the oven.  I don't want you burnin' yourself."

 

     "Okay," A.J. agreed.

 

     Rick returned to the dining room.  "These were the only candles I could find, but I guess they'll work."

 

     Carlos watched as his friend stuck one long red Christmas candle in a brass holder, and one long green one in the other.

 

     "They're not like the white ones in the picture, but they are kind of festive," Rick appraised with satisfaction.

 

     "Looks pretty good to me," Carlos agreed.

 

     "Come on, let's set the table while the hamburgers thaw," Rick said, heading for the big cherry hutch with the glass front.

 

     Rick handed four plates to Carlos. 

 

"Wow, these dishes are really nice," the Hispanic boy commented of the delicate dishes with their hand-painted rose pattern.

 

     "They're my mom's best.  My dad brought 'em home from Europe after the war."

 

     "Are you sure we should be usin' them?" 

 

     "Sure.  You always use your best china for a dinner party."

 

     Since Rick knew far more about dinner parties than Carlos, the boy said no more as his friend kept handing him dishes out of the hutch. 

 

     "Rick, I'm ready to put the cake in!" came a yell from the kitchen - a yell that caused Rick to move too fast and drop the saucer in his hand.  The fragile little dish shattered at Rick's feet.

 

     "Oh, no," Carlos moaned.

 

     A.J. ran out of the kitchen at the sound of breaking glass.  "Mom's good china!" he exclaimed, wide eyed with horror.

 

     Rick acted as nonchalant as possible considering this disaster could garner him big trouble.  "Don't worry about it, guys.  We can clean it up."

 

     "Yeah, but, Ricky, it's one of your mama's good plates," Carlos pointed out.

 

     "Mom will really be mad, Rick," A.J. contributed.

 

     "She won't even know," Rick dismissed.

 

     A.J. shook his head.  Like a little old man he scolded, "Yes, she will, Rick.  She'll know.  She always knows.  I tried to tell you not to use her good china, but you wouldn't listen to--"

 

     "Can it, A.J., will ya'?  Your yappin' is givin' me a headache," Rick complained.  "I'll clean it all up and...well I'll tell her someday.  It's not like she uses this stuff all the time.  Maybe only six or seven times a year.  She probably won't use it again until Thanksgiving.  That's six months away.  I'll

worry about it then."

 

     Rick headed to the kitchen for the broom and dustpan. Carlos and A.J. exchanged looks of doubt, but both bowed to Rick's wisdom on this matter.

 

     The three boys finished setting the table with no further mishaps, then went back into the kitchen to start the dinner preparations.

 

     Rick put the cake in the warm oven A.J. already had set at the correct temperature.  "You watch the cake, squirt.  Don't let it burn."

 

     A.J. set the minute timer that was setting next to the stove just like he'd seen his mother do hundreds of times.  "I won't let it burn.  I promise.  Mom always bakes this cake for forty-five minutes exactly."

 

     "I'm glad you pay so much attention to stuff like that," Rick praised.  "I could never have baked this cake all by myself."

 

     Again, A.J. beamed proudly at being such an important part of the upcoming dinner party.  "What do you want me to do now?"  he asked eagerly.

 

     Rick looked up at the clock to see that it was four forty- five.  "You can pour the potato chips in a big bowl and set it on the dining room table."

 

     "All right." A.J. ran to the cabinet where the snacks were kept, then looked through another cabinet until he found a deep serving bowl.

 

     "This hamburger's still frozen solid," Carlos observed.

 

     Rick walked over and tried to stick a finger into the wrapped patties.  "Geez, they sure are.  I thought they would be almost thawed by now."

 

     "What are we gonna do?" 

 

     Quick with answers, Rick replied, "We can get the salad ready.  By then I'm sure the hamburgers will be thawed."

 

     "Good idea," Carlos agreed, watching as Rick dug through the refrigerator for lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, and radishes.

 

      "Let's start cuttin' this stuff up.  Carlos, you slice up the tomatoes and cucumbers, I'll do the carrots and radishes, and A.J. can shred the lettuce."

 

      Soon the three chefs were busy going about their assigned tasks, laughing and joking while they worked.  An impromptu food fight occurred, parts of vegetables flying around the kitchen before Rick finally put a halt to it. "We'd better quit goofin’ around so I can get the hamburgers cooked."

 

     A large bowl of salad was soon ready to adorn the dining room table.  Carlos opened the refrigerator door and peered inside.  "Where does your mama keep the salad dressing?"

 

     "She doesn't keep any,” A.J. informed the teen. “She makes her own."

 

     Rick had forgotten this one important detail.  "Do you know how she makes it, A.J.?"

 

     "Nope.  I only help her make cakes."

 

     "What are we gonna do now, Ricky?" the panicked Carlos asked. 

 

     "Just let me think a minute. I know she uses vinegar and oil, and...some seasonings of some sort.  She makes a lot of different kinds, but the one I'm thinkin' of she calls Italian.  We can make that one."

 

     The boys set about retrieving the ingredients as best as Rick could remember them. 

 

     Carlos held the bottle of vinegar in one hand and a measuring cup in the other.  "How much vinegar does she use?"

 

     "I don't know.  Six cups maybe?"  Rick guessed.

 

     "Sounds good," Carlos agreed, pouring the vinegar into a bowl.  "What else?"

 

     Rick added two cups of oil, while A.J. sprinkled various seasonings from Cecilia's spice rack.

 

     "Mix it up, Carlos," Rick instructed.

 

     Carlos did as he was told, then put his nose close to the bowl and breathed in deeply.  "Whew!"  he cried as he jumped back.  "That's strong."

 

     Rick took his turn at smelling the dressing.  His eyes squinted and he wrinkled up his nose.  "It sure is.  I think we've got too much vinegar in there."

 

     "Now what are we gonna do?" 

 

     For once, Rick didn't have an answer.  "I don't know."

 

     "You could just give the girls a big bowl of salad, and only put a little bit of this stuff on it," A.J. suggested.  "That way it won't taste so bad 'cause they'll have more lettuce than dressing."

 

     Rick smiled.  "Yeah.  That's a great idea, A.J.!"

 

     "Yeah, A.J., good idea," a happy Carlos agreed.

 

     Again, A.J. beamed proudly, thrilled with the older boys' praise.

 

     A minute later, the timer on the stove dinged.  Carlos and A.J. watched as Rick pulled the chocolate cake out of the oven. 

 

     "It looks perfect, A.J.," Rick assessed while setting the cake on a hot pad on the counter.

 

     "It sure smells good," Carlos said.

 

     A.J. checked his cake over, seeing that is was, indeed, perfect.  "I'll frost it when it cools," he informed the older boys.

 

The phone rang at just that moment. Rick hurried to answer it. 

 

 

"Oh, hi, Mom!

 

“Sure, everything's fine.

 

“Yep, he's fine!

 

“What are we doin'?  Oh, not much of anything.  A.J.'s puttin' a puzzle together, and me and Carlos are just talkin'.  He's gonna stay for dinner, is that okay?"  Rick asked into the phone, while winking at his brother and friend.  "Okay, sure.  We will." 

 

Rick wrote down the name and phone number of the restaurant where his mother was calling from, then handed the phone to his little brother, who talked to their mother for a minute, then hung up.

 

     "Mom says hi, Carlos," A.J. informed Rick's friend.

 

     "That was real smooth, Ricky," Carlos complimented of the phone conversation.  "I like your style."

 

     "Thanks," Rick smiled as he checked on the progress of his hamburger patties.  "Man, these things are still pretty frozen."

 

     Carlos looked up at the clock to see that it was five- thirty.  "Maybe you should start cookin' them now."

 

     "Yeah, I guess I should," Rick agreed. 

 

      Hamburger grease was soon splattering all over the stove as Rick flipped the patties from side to side.  "We'll wrap 'em in foil and keep 'em warm in the oven until the girls get here," Rick told his friend.  "My mom does that when my dad's gonna be late for dinner."

 

     Carlos nodded his agreement, wrapping the patties as Rick took them out of the frying pan. 

 

     That job was soon finished, and more dirty dishes were added to the growing pile in the sink.  Rick checked the cake, decided it was cool enough to frost, and set A.J. to doing that.  When that job was completed, the weary boys sat at the table, each with a bottle of cold soda.

 

     "Man, these dinner parties are a lot of work," Rick sighed, taking in the messy kitchen.

 

     Carlos agreed.  "Boy, they sure are."

 

     "Yeah,” A.J. nodded. “And now we gotta clean up the kitchen, too."

 

     "We'll do that later," Rick decided.  "After the girls leave tonight.  It's already six o'clock, so we really don't have time right now."

 

     "Rick, Mom wouldn’t like that.  She never leaves the kitchen looking like this."

 

     Rick looked around, taking in the dirty dishes piled in the sink, the grease splattered stove, the fingerprints on the front of the refrigerator, and the flour and cocoa spilled on the counter top and floor.  "Well, Mom's not here.  I'm in charge, remember?"

 

     "But, Rick--" 

 

     "Don't worry about it.  We'll clean it up as soon as the girls leave.  We'll have plenty of time before Mom and Dad get home."

 

     Once again, A.J. bowed to Rick's wisdom in such matters, although he seriously thought it might not be a good idea this time.

 

     Carlos rose from the table.  "I'd better go home and change my clothes."

 

     "Yeah, I'd better get cleaned up, too," Rick said.

 

     Carlos left the house, promising to be back by six forty- five.

 

     Rick and A.J. trooped up the stairs.  When A.J. saw that his brother was going to take a shower, the younger boy followed suit. He went into their parents’ bathroom, while Rick used the one the boys shared.

 

     Rick was dressed in black pants, a white shirt, and a tie, when A.J. came back into the bedroom.  Again, the younger boy copied his brother in clothing choice, finally gaining Rick's attention when he asked, "Rick, what tie should I wear?"

 

     Rick turned from the bureau mirror where he was busy combing his hair into a perfect ducktail.  "What do ya' mean?  And why are you dressed like that anyway?"

 

     "For the dinner party."

 

     "You're not gonna be at the dinner party."

 

     A.J. frowned.  "What do you mean?"

 

     Rick turned back to the mirror and resumed combing his hair.  "Just what I said.  You're not gonna be at the party.  It's just for teenagers.  Just for me and Carlos and the girls."

 

     "But I helped set the table, and filled the potato chip bowl, and helped make the salad, and--"

 

     "So?” Rick stated, in total disregard to his brother's feelings. “You're not going to be there,"

 

     "But, Rick," A.J. protested.  "It was my idea to only use a little dressing on the salad, and I made the cake.  Just for that I should get to be there.  Just 'cause I made the dessert I should get to be at the dinner party."

 

     Rick casually tossed his comb on the dresser.  "Sorry, squirt.  No way.  It's only for grownups."

 

     "You're not a grownup," A.J. pouted.

 

     Rick reached out and gave his brother's head a solicitous pat.  "Tonight I am."

 

     A.J. ducked away from his brother's hand. He followed Rick down to the kitchen, protesting the whole time. 

 

     Rick put the finishing touches on the meal, then poured 7-Up into the wine glasses that were by each place setting on the table.  The whole time he ignored A.J.'s angry protests and pleadings.

 

     Carlos arrived soon thereafter, and any more A.J. had to say on the subject matter was lost in the excited and nervous conversation of the older boys.  When the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the girls, Rick turned to his younger brother. "Why don't you start cleaning up the kitchen for me, kid.  Carlos and I will help you after the girls are gone."

 

     The older boys exited the room in a rush.  As the swinging door closed behind Rick, A.J. stuck his tongue out at his brother, then pounded his fist on the table in frustration and hurt at being left out of the fun.

 

     Eva and Betty Carol both arrived in Sunday dresses, wearing black patent leather shoes and white gloves. Carlos thought they looked just like the picture of the women at the dinner party in Better Homes