Oops, egg on my nose!

      It was the glittering night of Mr. Salman Sweeney’s award dinner for Santa Monica’s Philanthropist of the Year. He was extremely nervous, and had even arranged for his former therapist Dr. Beresford to meet him for some moral support. Salman's brother Fabian was there, trying not to be jealous of another great accolade for his older brother, when he felt just as worthy of honor, if not more.

      His brother’s wife was there too, Delores. She was rather icy, and Salman didn’t trouble to make nice with his sister-in-law. Her main reason for attending was the opening presenter’s friendship. In Bette Waldorf, she had found a kindred spirit, and they helped each other find the best plastic surgeons and haute couture that money could buy. Bette and Delores were leaders of Santa Monica’s elite.

      Salman felt a bit insecure taking the glory for outdoing everyone in philanthropy. Truth be told, his brother Fabian had done as much, if not more for the favorite causes of Santa Monica. His fellow board members too, had often proffered opportunities for him to rubberstamp some giving, as a means to pad his future political resume. Salman had aspirations to be the mayor of Santa Monica. 

     At a large mirror in the hall of the venue, Salman straightened his bow tie, and mopped his brow. Keep it together now. Salman caught a glimpse of his therapist approaching. Dr. Thaddeus Beresford smiled reassuringly down at him from his imposing height.

     “ Hello Sal, pre-speech jitters?”

“The butterflies are reproducing as we speak.”

“You’ll be fine, you’re an entertaining guy. Just start the evening with a joke or two, all will be well.”

 “ Do you know anything about Bette Waldorf who will be presenting me with the award tonight? I know she’s a highly-processed friend of Delores, but not much else.”

“ She is a former winner of tonight’s award herself, and loves dogs, especially schnauzers.”

“As far as my speech goes, could you look it over? I think it needs to be trimmed.”

Dr. Beresford perused the two pages quickly, saying,” This is good, no need to shorten it. Remember about breaking the ice with a few preliminary jokes. Everyone just wants to have a pleasant evening and a good meal. It will be great!”

“Thanks Dr. Beresford! I do feel better.”

       As the above two spoke in the hall, an announcement was being made in the ballroom where Salman’s speech was to be given. 

“ May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen. Unfortunately, Bette Waldorf has had a fall, severely injuring her nose, and she will be unable to present the award this evening. A group of us will be visiting the hospital tomorrow after Bette has her rhinoplasty procedure. We will have her mother Antonia present instead.”

“Oh Bette!,” cried Delores.” She was the only reason I came tonight. I hope she has the best surgeon fix her nose this time. I wonder what she’ll look like next. That time she tried for a Jane Seymour look was not successful.”

“Darling, I’m sure she’ll be fine. The real question is what will Salman do tonight? Will he hoard all the glory? Of course he will!”

“Everyone knows all the good works you have done, Fabian,” Delores cooed.

“Well, not everyone apparently.”

“Now Fabian,” said his father. “We are here for Salman, and I bet he mentions you in his speech.”

      Salman and Dr. Beresford entered and made their way to the table of honor. “Hello, Fabian, Delores, Dad, glad you could all make it.”

“We wouldn’t miss your big night,” said his father. 

“Should have been my award tonight,” sniffed

 Fabian.

“Well, I can’t really argue with that. Funny how 

things happen sometimes.”

“We are proud of you Sal, you do deserve it, and I’m sure your speech will be great!” His father beamed as he said this.

“Fabian, I’ll be sure to mention your contributions to Santa Monica in my speech.”

“ Glad you’re having your special recognition Sal,” said Fabian, swallowing hard.

A smile that did not rise to her eyes was all Delores would offer.

     The portly Antonia, Bette’s mother, tottered up to make her announcement. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. Tonight we honor a generous champion of Santa Monica. His contributions to the pier, and the parks, not to mention combatting the erosion problem are really impressive. Join me in applauding the very philanthropic Mr. Salman Sweeney!

Salman rose up with a confidence that he did not really feel. He had no later recollection of mounting the steps to the stage. This was not Bette, as far as he remembered. Bette was slim and not a day past forty. Who was she? Then he thought, I’ll make some jokes about Bette’s absence. That ought to amuse those who knew about the original speaker. Then I’ll continue on with my prewritten speech!”

He nodded at Antonia, and took the award from her hands.

“Thank you, thank you everyone. I kept looking to see if Bette Waldorf was hiding behind the presenter!”

(Hushed silence)

“Might Bette be powdering her nose, ha ha?”

(A few gasps, Delores bore holes into Salman, but he did not see her.) Fabian’s eyes glimmered with amusement. This night might not be a complete loss after all. Salman continued.

“She’s probably busy, hugging her schnauzer, eh?”

(Angry muttering). Fabian’s grin grew wider.

Salman’s father whispered loudly,

“Son, Bette’s hurt her nose in an accident!”

Salman’s smile froze as his eyes darted around the hostile audience. Antonia had turned beet red with indignation. Delores, pale and icier than ever, was muttering epithets.

“Oh dear, don’t I have egg on my nose, I mean my face, ahh! I seem to have missed something important here. Well, I’ll just leave now. You can give this award to my brother Fabian instead. Good night!”

Salman stumbled off the stage, bumping into one or two people. As he ran in what felt was a semi-paralyzing slow motion, he overheard someone say,

“Well, he won’t be winning anything in this town anymore!”