Another intermission
Back at Joe Mugg’s
“When the hell are we getting to this masquerade ball?” Ophelia asked, glancing at her watch. “I’ll be eligible for Medicare benefits by the time you finish this story.”
Solomon frowned. “You’re the one who asked for it, remember?”
“Yeah, but most people tell a story in a couple of minutes, not during the entire course of a presidential term. When are you going to get to the juicy stuff?”
“Patience. I’m getting there.” He smiled. “Or maybe I should stop and let Marcel tell you the rest?”
“I swear to goodness if you leave me hanging, you’re limping out of here.”
“Well, I might be persuaded to finish if you tell me a little more about that prom you wanted me to take you to.”
Ophelia’s shoulders slumped. “There’s nothing else to tell. I wanted you to take me, you didn’t ask, so c’est la vie. Then, of course, there was also the senior prom, but hey.”
Solomon stared at her. “I don’t believe this. Why are we just now talking about this? I wanted to take you to both of those, but I thought that you had a thing for Marcel. God knows you were always around him.”
“I was always around both of you.” She shrugged. “I thought I was giving you plenty of hints on how I felt, but you just ignored them, or so I thought.”
“Did Marcel know?” He thought of his best buddy and couldn’t imagine that he would keep something this vital from him especially since Marcel knew of his feeling toward Ophelia.
“I never came out and said it, but I suspect that he knew.”
“And you and Marcel…?”
“Please. Marcel is like a big brother to me. But you… I don’t know. I liked you the first time I tackled you in touch football when I was ten years old.”
Solomon swallowed. “You don’t say.”
“I do say.” She smiled. “Now, back to this story.”
He blinked, but shook his head. “I have to ask another question about us first.”
Ophelia’s lips drooped as her gaze locked on her coffee cup.
Solomon felt his throat constrict to the point that he could barely get air through, let alone words. “How do you feel about me now?”
She closed her eyes for so long, he thought she wasn’t going to respond.
“Never mind. You don’t have to answer that right now,” he rushed to say, fearful of her answer.
“I still care for you very much,” she finally said. “I’ve just come to accept that we weren’t meant to be. We’re where we’re supposed to be: friends.”
Solomon stared into her honey-colored eyes and felt himself nod though he didn’t want to. “Yeah. It’s probably best.”
There was an awkward silence as the two sipped their coffee.
Solomon was first to recover. Mainly because he was determined not to ruin the rest of the afternoon. Maybe some things were best left in the past. “So, where was I in the story?”
Ophelia cleared her throat and then flashed him a shaky smile. “Uh, I believe this Diana had just enlisted her burlesque dancing grandma and her ambitious, gay, cross-dressing best friend to help her transform herself for this mysterious masquerade ball.”
“Oh, yes. I remember now…”
A heart can’t be fooled
Chapter 20
On the night of Uncle Willy’s masquerade ball, Marcel gave serious thought to backing out of the gig. Especially since Solomon was taking this “find a wife” thing so seriously. It was funny that a man who was afraid to approach the woman of his dreams was actually trying to help him find a wife.
He stared back at his reflection in the mirror and adjusted his tie. Of course, he had no intention of actually marrying just anyone. He would go out with whomever his buddy selected. No harm in seeing if there was a connection. People have met their soul mates under stranger conditions.
“Are you nervous?” Solomon asked, entering Marcel’s bedroom in a tux.
Marcel smiled. “You still bummed that this isn’t a costume party?”
“Yeah. Who knew there was a difference between a masquerade costume party and a ball?”
“Well, I’m glad. Did you see the costume that Diana and Wayne picked out for me?” He retrieved a bright red satin costume and a pitchfork from the closet.
“The devil?” Solomon asked with a broad grin.
“Yep. Complete with a cape and pitchfork.” He tossed the ensemble onto the bed. “You think she was trying to tell me something?”
“It depends. Was she due for a raise?” Solomon laughed.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should check into it.”
“Or—” Solomon’s voice rose “—maybe she’s getting you back for your lips falling onto hers a few weeks ago.”
Marcel gave him a stern look.
“What? Anything is possible.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Again, it wasn’t meant to be.” Solomon slid his hands into his pockets and then rocked on his feet. “How long has she been out of the office now?”
“A week.”
“And you haven’t hired a temp yet?”
Marcel didn’t say anything. How would he explain that he didn’t want to see someone else sitting behind Diana’s desk without it becoming a big deal? Hell, he wasn’t quite sure if he understood it either.
“Okay. I take it you don’t want to talk about it.”
“There’s nothing really to talk about. I just haven’t gotten around to…to…”
“Replacing her,” Solomon finished for him.
“Yeah.” Marcel was careful to avoid his friend’s gaze as he reached over and picked up his black mask with tiny speckles of gold around the eyes and shook his head. “I feel like we’re going trick-or-treating.”
“Ah, stop being a baby and put it on. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get the whole thing over with.”
“I think I’ll wait until we get there.” He took a final glance in the mirror, but then made no move to leave for the party. Instead his thoughts fluttered in a cloud of depression, one he hadn’t been able to shake for a solid week.
“Hey, man. What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing.” He waltzed away from the mirror and headed out of his bedroom. “Are you ready to go?”
Brandy popped up from her dog bed in the corner of the room and followed the men down the long hallway to the staircase.
“This policy of yours about dating employees—”
“Don’t even go there,” Marcel said without breaking his stride.
“I’m just saying that it’s not like it’s against the law or anything.”
“Thanks for the news flash.”
Woof!
“Not you, too.” Marcel rolled his eyes.
Solomon laughed. “Hey, we can’t both be wrong.”
Marcel removed his keys from the foyer table and turned back toward Solomon. “Even if I wanted to date Diana, which I’m not saying I do, it would never happen. The woman doesn’t like me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She told me. I’m an insatiable playboy and a driven workaholic who’s stingy when it comes to raises.”
“Wow. She said that?”
“I believe those were her exact words.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door. “In the office she goes out of her way to avoid eye contact and a lot of times I feel as if she’s dying to get away from me. You should have seen her the night I took her and her grandmother home from Club Secrets. You would have thought that I’d slashed her tires or something.”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t,” Marcel huffed. “I’m just not the kind of guy she likes to date.”
Solomon also crossed his arms, while curiosity twisted his expression. “And what exactly is her type?”
“Monogamous politicians.”
“Is there such a thing?”
Marcel shrugged. “It
was news to me, too.”
After four hours of preparations, Diana didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her in the vanity mirror. Her once black hair had been lightened to a warm chestnut with honey highlights. Then Tim had created a masterpiece by adding extensions for an eighties big-hair look.
With contacts, she transformed her brown eyes to a convincing hazel green. But none of that compared to the dramatic makeup Louisa applied to her face, complete with a set of false eyelashes.
“It’s beautiful,” Diana whispered in awe.
“No.” Louisa pressed her face next to Diana’s. “You’re the one who’s beautiful. You’re going to knock his socks off tonight.”
Diana’s heart dropped as her eyes widened with what she was about to do.
Louisa gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Don’t worry. You can do this.”
“I can do this,” Diana reaffirmed.
Tim grabbed a tissue from the vanity table and wiped his eyes. “I wish Caleb could see you. This is a Kodak moment. Does anyone have a camera?”
Louisa straightened. “There’s one on top of the dresser. Do you mind?”
Tim rushed across the room and found the camera.
“Well, let me get into the dress first. I don’t want you taking pictures of me in my underwear.” Diana popped up and went to get her dress when Louisa stopped her.
“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not how I taught you to walk.”
Contrite, Diana slowed her stride and gave her hips a slight rotation as she continued toward the bed for her dress.
“That’s better,” Louisa praised. “Oh, you’re going to be fabulous. I wish I could go.”
“I’d settle for being a fly on the wall,” Tim chimed in.
Diana wondered if it was too late to back out of the plan.
“What time is Charlie’s cousin coming with the limousine?” Tim asked.
Diana glanced at her watch. “He should be here at eight o’clock. I have to make sure I get something for Charlie for helping out like this.”
“Everyone wants to make this a special night for you, dear. You deserve it.”
“I don’t know about that.” Diana’s mouth curled into a half smile. “Right now, I’m just hoping I don’t embarrass myself, but I probably shouldn’t get my hopes up.”
Louisa waved off her concerns. “You’re going to do fine.”
Diana stared down at her dress for the evening. It had been an old dress from her grandmother’s entertainment days, updated with a modern flare from Tim.
Diana had no doubts that she would garner some attention in the dress. She just hoped it would be the right kind.
“Oh, just get on with it.” Tim rushed over to her and set the camera down. “I’ll help you.”
A few minutes later, Diana twirled around in front of her audience. “So, what do you think?”
Louisa clapped her hands together, and then pressed them against her closed lips as her eyes shimmered with joy. “Perfect.”
“Just remember you have to be out of there by midnight because Jimmy has to return the limo before his boss realizes it’s gone.”
“Got it.”
Tim snapped a picture and replied, “It’s time for you to show Marcel Taylor just what he’s been missing.”
William Bassett made his millions in real estate. Though it was true that he was no Donald Trump, that didn’t stop him from living and enjoying a life of excess. His thirty-thousand-square-foot home nestled between Atlanta and Roswell was one of his most prized possessions.
Marcel’s limousine rolled down the long driveway, while he prepared to deal with Uncle Willy’s over-the-top personality.
“What happened to the old Casanova Brown? Just relax and try to have a good time,” Solomon said, winking. “I’ll hook you up with a winner.”
Marcel smiled and slid on his mask just as their vehicle slowed to a stop. It was too late to turn around now. He might as well go with the flow.
Charlie opened the back door and Marcel stepped out into the night’s cool breeze and was amazed at the turnout. Yes, Willy Bassett had friends, but it looked as though the man had invited half the state to the event.
“It looks like I’m going to have my job cut out for me tonight,” Solomon whispered, appearing beside Marcel.
“That would be an understatement.” He looked at his friend and tried not to laugh at what looked like a sleeping mask with the eyes cut out.
“Hey, it looked better with my Don Juan costume.” Solomon shrugged.
“Sure it did.”
Together they strolled up to the open oak doors where both reached inside their jackets to present their invitations.
“Have a good evening, gentlemen,” the man stationed at the door said and then gestured them inside.
Marcel moved into the gold marble foyer and his eyes immediately widened at the sight of beautiful bodies adorned in glittering gowns. He had to admit that everyone being in a mask did add a dash of mystery.
“You know,” he said over his shoulder to Solomon. “I just might be able to get into this after all.”
“That’s good news.”
“Ah, boys.” Willy’s boisterous voice sliced through the ballroom music seconds before he squeezed his rotund shape in between the two men. “I wondered what time you two would get here.” His heavy arms crashed on each of their shoulders.
“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Solomon assured him. “But how did you recognize us?”
“Are you kidding?” Willy thundered and playfully popped Solomon on the back of the head. “I would know my only nephew with blindfolds on.”
Marcel rolled his eyes and smiled at the exaggeration.
“I have great news for you guys,” Willy went on to say as he led them farther into the house. “Remember when I told you how the women would outnumber the men four to one?”
The men nodded.
“Well, it’s more like seven to one. I don’t know if I gave the party planner the right guest book, but I swear there’re more women here than I can shake a stick at. But, trust me, I’m going to try.”
“You’re a dirty old man.” Marcel laughed.
Willy frowned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Just then a curvaceous woman decked in pink satin sashayed past the three men and each set of eyes trailed after the bounce of her backside.
“Lord have mercy.” Willy removed his arms from the men’s shoulders and reached inside his tux to remove one of his trademark Cuban cigars. “Let the interviewing process begin.”
“You told your uncle?” Marcel glared at his best friend.
“Look around. Don’t you think I need some help? Besides, they’re his friends. He has the inside scoop on every one.”
The last person Marcel wanted to select a date for him was Uncle Willy. Especially since he had a propensity to select borderline criminally insane women for himself.
Willy chuckled and removed his cigar. “I already have a few women in mind.”
“No offense, Uncle Willy, but I prefer not to take anyone you’ve, uh, been out with.”
“Ah. Good point.” He tapped his chin. “No one want sloppy seconds, right?”
Marcel forced a smile. “Something like that.”
Willy winked. “The night is young. Let’s get started.”
Fashionably late, Nora stepped out of her leased Mercedes in a banana-yellow, full-sequined gown and matching Prada pumps that set her back a pretty penny. However, if everything went according to plan, she would go back to living the life of excess as she did in her modeling days.
At the door, she handed over her forged invitation and donned her yellow and silver mask and went in search of Casanova Brown.
When she crossed over the threshold, her eyes bulged at the sheer splendor of the house. The marble floors, Greek columns and cathedral ceiling had Nora wondering, just who was this William Bassett and how did he come to own such a magnificent home?
“Lord,
have mercy. I must be dreaming,” a man’s bullhorn voice blared within inches of her ears.
Slowly, she turned. Not the least bit surprised that the voice belonged to a short, robust man with a wolfish grin. I don’t think so.
His arms opened wide in greeting. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
“You’re William Bassett?”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger against his lips. “We’re not supposed to give out our identities, remember?”
“Right.” Nora gave a slow nod, but mentally placed the aging playboy on her short list of backup plans.
He edged closer to her. “I have to admit that you’ve got the best body in the place.”
She wiggled her hips as she met his beady gaze. “I have the best body, period.”
“Ah, modesty.” He shoved a cigar into his mouth. “A woman after my own heart. You might be the type of woman my nephew’s friend is looking for.”
“Is that right?” Nora perked up. He had to be referring to Marcel.
“You’re not here with anyone, are you?”
“I thought this was a singles party.”
“It is, it is.” He looped his meaty arm around her small waist. “But people have been known to break the rules from time to time. So it never hurts to double-check.”
One of Nora’s top ten rules of how to marry a millionaire prohibited her from burning bridges with any member of the millionaire club, so she overlooked the man’s unwanted embrace and continued to smile at her plan B.
“So where is this friend of your nephew’s?”
Marcel mingled in the crowd. When he ran across one of his employees from T&B Entertainment, he really didn’t think anything of it. Then he recognized Selena, Erin, Paula and then finally Chelsea. What was going on? Surely these women weren’t friends of Uncle Willy.
He asked a couple of them to dance and used the opportunity to find out what was going on, though in the back of his mind he was starting to suspect.
Chelsea was the one who finally cracked under the pressure.
Unforgettable (Arabesque) Page 14
