More than a few years ago, when Max and Mataya were younger, wilder, freer and more well known, they had been invited to do a benefit for breast cancer. Max took them up on their offer the moment he was told that he would get the shirt, "I love my TaTa's" in big, bold pink letters on it. And since the tatas that were in question happened to belong to his beautiful wife, what better way to celebrate her than with a little song and dance?
Max sat backstage, pulling the curlers from his hair. He admired the curls, tight to his head. Not much more needed be done; a quick run through with a brush to make the curls look more natural, and then a ton of hairspray to keep the tightly curled, short hair, plastered into place.
"Ten minutes, people!" the production assistant yelled at the top of his lungs to be heard over the excited buzz of conversations going on backstage at the benefit. The small, mousy looking man carried a clipboard in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other. "No, the Yako set goes first!" He shook his head, face red and eyes rolling. It was the excitement of the live stage that pulled the man to the theater, and would eventually end up putting him in an early grave.
Tonight's benefit was for breast cancer, and Max had been invited to perform. He donated his time, plus a little bit of money. A few things could be said about Max, generous to a fault and talented to boot. He was a charity organizer's wet dream. And with the recent events in Max's life, he was even more generous than before. A man in the throes of love always gave what they could of themselves and be happy to do it. And the love of his life, Mataya, was safely tucked into the deep recesses of his heart. The best part of it all, Max was absolutely positive that he was tucked safely into hers, as well.
So the song he chose to sing, "She's a Lady," was dedicated to his lovely lady, Mataya De Luca. He hadn't told her what he had planned, and as he sat finishing up applying the eyeliner that made his eyes pop on stage, he hoped that she would be pleasantly surprised.
"Places!" Had ten minutes gone by so quickly' Max put down the eyeliner and stood up. He wore black dress shoes, black satin pants with a stripe of black sequins sewn down the outside seams of each leg. The black shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest and the black vest was buttoned tightly to his abdomen. He reached for and very carefully swung the bright red sequined jacket that finished his costume onto his shoulders and slid his arms into the sleeves. It was a perfect fit and Max made a mental note to thank the seamstress for doing such a good job on it.
Max cleared his throat, as he made his way to the stage. The back up singers were standing in a cluster, wearing pink and white leotards and tights. He smiled to them, gave them gentle words of encouragement and then stepped onto the darkened stage. He took his place and waited for the show's emcee to announce him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, the unforgettable, incomparable Max Yako!" The audience cheered and Max could feel the pulse in his throat jump. The lights came up, spotlight on him, a dimmer on the back up singers. A second before the music began and Max took a deep breath. This is what he lived for, and he thanked God that he had the talent and ability to do what he loved.
The music swelled and Max brought the microphone to his mouth. He sang, loud and rough. Each sentence a guttural punch from the pit of his stomach. Dark eyes kept going to the spot in the wings to where the lady he sang of should be standing.
Well she's all you'd ever want She's the kind they'd like to flaunt and take to dinner She puts me in my place, She's got style, she's got grace, she's a winner
The line, originally, was "Well she always knows her place," but Max thought it was more fitting, and more true to say that Mataya knew how to keep him in his place. When his ego was too big, when he thought that he could lay golden eggs for dinner, Mataya always could bring him right back down to terra firma.
She's a lady, whoa whoa whoa, she's a lady Talking about that little lady, and the lady is mine.
He looked into the wings for her, he was singing from his heart and especially for her. Sure, the song was a little on the campy side in it's delivery but the words rang true in his heart. Mataya was all of these things, and more.
Well she's never in the way Always something nice to say, Oh what a blessing. I can leave her on her own Knowing she's okay alone, and there's no messing. She's a lady, whoa, whoa, whoa, she's a lady Talking about that little lady, and the lady is mine.
He smiled, thinking that she was little. Her hand always felt tiny in his, and he felt like the King of the World when he held that tiny hand in his own. And he trusted her, implicitly, as she held his heart in her tiny hands.
Well she never asks for very much and I don't refuse her. Always treat her with respect, I never would abuse her. What she's got is hard to find, and I don't want to lose her Help me build a mountain from my little pile of clay. Hey, hey, hey. If Max had his way, he'd deliver the world to Mataya, wrapped up in a box with a pretty bow upon it. And as he gazed upon her, he sang the words from his heart. The dance routine had been rehearsed so many times that he could do it in his sleep. Moving side to side, thrusting and swivelling his hips in time with the music.
Well she knows what I'm about, She can take what I dish out, and that's not easy, Well she knows me through and through, She knows just what to do, and how to....please me. She's a lady. Whoa, whoa, whoa. She's a lady. Talkin' about that little lady and the lady is mine.
Max took off the jacket and laid his shirt back, off of his shoulders. It was sexy, he was told, and it made Mataya laugh when he'd done it during rehearsals. The jacket was swung over his head, and as he sang "please me," he took extra time and rolled his hips, eyes closing as if in ecstasy. The crowd roared and when he opened his eyes, he waggled his brows in Mataya's direction. Promises for later.
The song wound down, he sang back and forth with the back up singers until the band came to a long crescendo, holding the last note until the conductor stopped them. Max was on one knee, bent forward with his left arm straight up in the air as the song came to a conclusion. He brought his arm down with a graceful swoosh and lowered his head in a bow. Then he sprung to his feet as the audience stood and cheered.
He raced off stage then, in search of Mataya. He found her and pulled her into his arms. Smiling into a kiss, he held her face between his hands. "And the lady is mine," he sung, half laughingly as he gazed into her eyes.
Max sat backstage, pulling the curlers from his hair. He admired the curls, tight to his head. Not much more needed be done; a quick run through with a brush to make the curls look more natural, and then a ton of hairspray to keep the tightly curled, short hair, plastered into place.
"Ten minutes, people!" the production assistant yelled at the top of his lungs to be heard over the excited buzz of conversations going on backstage at the benefit. The small, mousy looking man carried a clipboard in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other. "No, the Yako set goes first!" He shook his head, face red and eyes rolling. It was the excitement of the live stage that pulled the man to the theater, and would eventually end up putting him in an early grave.
Tonight's benefit was for breast cancer, and Max had been invited to perform. He donated his time, plus a little bit of money. A few things could be said about Max, generous to a fault and talented to boot. He was a charity organizer's wet dream. And with the recent events in Max's life, he was even more generous than before. A man in the throes of love always gave what they could of themselves and be happy to do it. And the love of his life, Mataya, was safely tucked into the deep recesses of his heart. The best part of it all, Max was absolutely positive that he was tucked safely into hers, as well.
So the song he chose to sing, "She's a Lady," was dedicated to his lovely lady, Mataya De Luca. He hadn't told her what he had planned, and as he sat finishing up applying the eyeliner that made his eyes pop on stage, he hoped that she would be pleasantly surprised.
"Places!" Had ten minutes gone by so quickly' Max put down the eyeliner and stood up. He wore black dress shoes, black satin pants with a stripe of black sequins sewn down the outside seams of each leg. The black shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest and the black vest was buttoned tightly to his abdomen. He reached for and very carefully swung the bright red sequined jacket that finished his costume onto his shoulders and slid his arms into the sleeves. It was a perfect fit and Max made a mental note to thank the seamstress for doing such a good job on it.
Max cleared his throat, as he made his way to the stage. The back up singers were standing in a cluster, wearing pink and white leotards and tights. He smiled to them, gave them gentle words of encouragement and then stepped onto the darkened stage. He took his place and waited for the show's emcee to announce him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, the unforgettable, incomparable Max Yako!" The audience cheered and Max could feel the pulse in his throat jump. The lights came up, spotlight on him, a dimmer on the back up singers. A second before the music began and Max took a deep breath. This is what he lived for, and he thanked God that he had the talent and ability to do what he loved.
The music swelled and Max brought the microphone to his mouth. He sang, loud and rough. Each sentence a guttural punch from the pit of his stomach. Dark eyes kept going to the spot in the wings to where the lady he sang of should be standing.
Well she's all you'd ever want She's the kind they'd like to flaunt and take to dinner She puts me in my place, She's got style, she's got grace, she's a winner
The line, originally, was "Well she always knows her place," but Max thought it was more fitting, and more true to say that Mataya knew how to keep him in his place. When his ego was too big, when he thought that he could lay golden eggs for dinner, Mataya always could bring him right back down to terra firma.
She's a lady, whoa whoa whoa, she's a lady Talking about that little lady, and the lady is mine.
He looked into the wings for her, he was singing from his heart and especially for her. Sure, the song was a little on the campy side in it's delivery but the words rang true in his heart. Mataya was all of these things, and more.
Well she's never in the way Always something nice to say, Oh what a blessing. I can leave her on her own Knowing she's okay alone, and there's no messing. She's a lady, whoa, whoa, whoa, she's a lady Talking about that little lady, and the lady is mine.
He smiled, thinking that she was little. Her hand always felt tiny in his, and he felt like the King of the World when he held that tiny hand in his own. And he trusted her, implicitly, as she held his heart in her tiny hands.
Well she never asks for very much and I don't refuse her. Always treat her with respect, I never would abuse her. What she's got is hard to find, and I don't want to lose her Help me build a mountain from my little pile of clay. Hey, hey, hey. If Max had his way, he'd deliver the world to Mataya, wrapped up in a box with a pretty bow upon it. And as he gazed upon her, he sang the words from his heart. The dance routine had been rehearsed so many times that he could do it in his sleep. Moving side to side, thrusting and swivelling his hips in time with the music.
Well she knows what I'm about, She can take what I dish out, and that's not easy, Well she knows me through and through, She knows just what to do, and how to....please me. She's a lady. Whoa, whoa, whoa. She's a lady. Talkin' about that little lady and the lady is mine.
Max took off the jacket and laid his shirt back, off of his shoulders. It was sexy, he was told, and it made Mataya laugh when he'd done it during rehearsals. The jacket was swung over his head, and as he sang "please me," he took extra time and rolled his hips, eyes closing as if in ecstasy. The crowd roared and when he opened his eyes, he waggled his brows in Mataya's direction. Promises for later.
The song wound down, he sang back and forth with the back up singers until the band came to a long crescendo, holding the last note until the conductor stopped them. Max was on one knee, bent forward with his left arm straight up in the air as the song came to a conclusion. He brought his arm down with a graceful swoosh and lowered his head in a bow. Then he sprung to his feet as the audience stood and cheered.
He raced off stage then, in search of Mataya. He found her and pulled her into his arms. Smiling into a kiss, he held her face between his hands. "And the lady is mine," he sung, half laughingly as he gazed into her eyes.