by Sky Corgan
When I got home, I took time getting ready. I mimicked the hairstyle of the girl on the costume package as best I could, forcing my long brown hair into a curly updo held in place by bobby pins and the headband. By the time it was all said and done, I looked rather ravishing, I thought.
The party started at eight, but I didn't get there until nine. While I drove to it, I thought of Jack Kemble. The Masked Ball started at eight o'clock too. Had he waited on the staircase for me, hopeful that I would show up? Was he disappointed that I hadn't? Or had he already replaced me with someone else? Part of me hoped he had. It was the only thought that could ward off the guilt I felt for not attending.
The party was being held at Eric's friend's house. I straightened my gown before ringing the doorbell. Inside, the festivities were well underway with people talking and laughing louder the necessary. Most of them were probably already drunk. A man answered the door, shamelessly looking me up and down while I told him I was Eric's friend. Seconds later, Eric appeared to usher me inside.
“Hey Jenny.” He threw a heavy arm around me shoulder, and I breathed in the putrid stench of his breath. It reeked of alcohol. “That's an amazing costume.”
Eric was dressed up like a pirate. His normally spiked brown hair was smoothed down and covered with a black tricorn. One of his brown eyes had a black patch on it, and he had spray painted his short manicured beard red and twisted it into two points that were held in place by tiny rubber bands. The costume Eric wore hung off his broad body, perhaps a size or two too big. I glanced at his chest through the oversized V in his white shirt, smirking at the black chest hairs that had been drawn on among the mix of brown ones that were already naturally there. He looked like an idiot.
“Thanks,” I muttered as Eric led me through the crowd to the kitchen. The house was small, too small to hold the amount of people who were there. If the neighbors didn't call the cops by the end of the night, I'd be amazed.
He reached past a talking couple to grab a beer from the fridge, handing it to me before we edged our way back out into the living room. “It's crazy here, isn't it?”
“It's busier than I thought,” I admitted.
“Darrel, the guy who's throwing the party, invited everyone from work. I work with most of these guys.” He turned his attention to greet a man with glasses who was passing by on the way to the kitchen.
I felt like a sardine, so close to everyone else that I almost couldn't breath. “Can we go outside?”
Eric nodded and then followed me to the back door. The crowd outside was only half as large as the one inside, and while it was still loud with chatter, at least I could hear myself think.
“Wow. Just wow,” I said as I turned to Eric, stopping in a more secluded part of the yard and looking back toward the door.
“I didn't realize it was going to get this busy,” he told me.
“Well, it's not a party if there aren't people.” I shrugged, taking a long sip of beer. It tasted bitter and gross, a brand I wasn't used to drinking. Still, free was free and I wasn't going to turn down a free drink.
Eric opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as he did one of his co-workers came up to mingle. It seemed to be the story of the night. We would be alone for two seconds before someone else would come join in on the conversation, making me feel like an outcast. They tried to engage me, but what did I really have to say to people I didn't know.
Luckily, someone decided to bring an ice chest out onto the back porch, so I drank and drank and drank while Eric and his friends chatted the night away. Despite my sobriety leaving me quickly, I couldn't force myself to have fun. Usually, alcohol could turn any situation into a hoot, but not tonight. My mind kept drifting back to Jack Kemble. Was he having as bad of a Halloween as I was?
“Are you alright?” Eric asked when he noticed me sulking to myself.
“I'm tired,” I lied. “I think I'm going to go home.”
“Do you need me to drive you?” he offered.
“No. I think I'll be fine.”
“How many beers have you had?”
I lost count at seven. “Four.”
“Alright,” Eric hesitated. “Are you sure you don't want me to call you a cab or something?”
“I'm fine,” I insisted, standing on my tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. He wrapped a heavy arm around my waist, trying for a kiss on the lips instead. In my inebriated state, my reaction time was poor, and he landed right on the mark. The kiss was sloppy and wet, but Eric didn't press beyond my lips, not that I would have allowed it. I used what strength I had to pull away.
His eyes softened. “Let's get out of here. Come back to my place with me.”
“No thanks. I really just want to go home. I'm not feeling too well.”
“I'll take care of you. We can spend the rest of the night together. It will be fun. Just me and you.”
“I really want to go home, Eric,” I said again.
“Alright,” he surrendered sullenly. “You drive safe though, okay?”
“Alright.” I nodded, giving him a smile before I pushed my way through the crowd and headed toward the front door.
When I got behind the wheel of my car, I realized I shouldn't be driving. The house was moving in front of my windshield, swaying lightly back and forth. How I wasn't sick I didn't know, but I was grateful for it.
I reversed out of the driveway and then headed down the street. My mind was still stuck on Jack Kemble, though I couldn't understand why. Was that the reason I really wasn't having fun? Did I feel so guilty that I was punishing myself over it?
At the first stop sign that I came to, I reached over to dig through my purse. The ticket to the Halloween Masked Ball was inside. I pulled it out and then glanced at the clock on my console. The ball ended at midnight. It was now eleven o'clock.
Jack Kemble was probably long gone, but I was bored and didn't feel like going home. My curiosity was getting the best of me. Yeah, that was it. I had never been to a masked ball before. It would probably be splendid.
With excited nervousness pumping through my veins, I punched the address into my GPS and headed toward the venue. When I arrived, the overwhelming size and splendor of the place about made me turn my car around. There was a private gate I had to go through before I climbed up a steep hill to a building that looked something like a miniature version of the White House. It was ridiculously large, with towering white columns and two stories of evenly spaced windows, all of which were lit up like sunny beacons in the night.
By the time I pulled up for valet parking, a hard lump had formed in my throat, and I was regretting coming. It was too late to turn back now though. The valet was knocking on my window, and I killed the engine to get out of my car and hand him my keys.
Swallowing my fears, I strode up the walkway and presented my ticket to the doorman. My brain screamed to turn back. This is not the place for you. You'll just embarrass yourself. But my unsteady legs kept moving forward.
The first room was a hall with a red carpet rolled down the length of it, leading to a table with an ornate vase that stood in front of a large mirror. I watched my reflection as I stepped forward, following the sound of classical music coming from around the corner. One foot in front of the other. If you don't like it, you can always leave, but you've already come this far. You have to go the rest of the way.
A woman and her date stepped out from behind a set of double doors at the far end of the hall. They both laughed merrily at each other until their eyes landed on me. Both of their expressions sulked as they took in my costume, judging me. I tried not to look directly at them, assessing them with my peripheral vision instead. Even with their masks on, I could tell they were both well to do. The man was wearing a classic black and white two-button side-vented tuxedo. His date adorned a full-skirt ball gown with a sweetheart neckline. I knew it probably cost more than my car, though the pattern was absolutely hideous. On a black background, ropes of gold snaked up the train and bodice, twisting with no
rhyme or reason, overlapping and coiling on top of itself at points. If that was high fashion, she could keep it. I listened to the way the fabric of the woman's train scratched against the floor as she passed me. Then they were behind me, and I was in front of the double doors, preparing to step into a whole new world.
My lungs inhaled all the aromas of polished floors, fruity champagne, and burning wax as I stood in the doorway. The ballroom was absolutely massive, reminding me of something out of a movie. Dozens of women in lavish gowns glided across the white marble tile as they danced with their dates. On one side of the room was a long buffet table piled artfully with hors d'oeuvres. Sectioned off in the corner appeared to be an entire orchestra providing music the attendees danced so brilliantly to. Off to the side were several sets of doors that led outside, which seemed miles away from where I was standing. And then there was the infamous staircase that had been mentioned in my Romeo's letter. He was not there though, and for that I was thankful.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself into the room. You'll walk to the back, to gaze out on the balcony, make a pass down the hors d'oeuvre table, drink a flute of champagne, and go home. This is not the place for you, I told myself. You do not belong here.
Eyes were upon me as I crossed the room. I felt like a peasant in the midst of royalty, a black sheep that had wandered into the wrong flock. Women scoffed at me and serving men avoided me. With each step, I felt farther out of place, and it took everything in me not to turn around and run the other way. One foot in front of the other.
Finally, I made it to the other side and out onto an elongated porch. I could hear people talking and laughing above me on the balcony. Those around me went silent at my approach, whispering their disapproval. I knew it was time to turn around, but I couldn't force myself to do it . . . not without running and crying like a mess. Why had I come here? Whatever magical moment I was seeking was not to be found. My confidence had faded, and I was now just a scared child among strangers. The curiosity was strangling the cat.
For a moment, I wondered if I could walk around the building instead of going back inside. That would just make me look more suspicious though. I had to gather up the courage to go through the ballroom again, somehow.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I tried to ignore the whispers at my back. Turn around. One foot in front of the other, I told myself, but I was paralyzed with irrational fear. Maybe if I hadn’t drunk as much, this would have been easier. As it was, my emotions were so out of balance I was on the verge of bawling. I needed to get it together before I could go back through the building.
After a few minutes of gathering my courage, I took a deep breath and turned around. A wall of tuxedo stood before me, and I let out a short gasp as the man in front of me grabbed me by the forearms. It must be a bouncer or a guard preparing to throw me out, I thought immediately. But then my eyes darted up to the ones behind the mask. They were pale blue, like a soft winter sky, familiar.
“This wasn't the type of dress I had in mind,” he muttered, obviously displeased.
“Mister Kemble.”
Jack shushed me. “This is an anonymous party, remember.” More likely than not, he just didn't want anyone to know he knew me. After a long sigh, his lips quirked into a smile. “I didn't think you'd come.”
“I didn't think I'd come either,” I admitted.
“Well, now that you're here, would you care to dance?”
I was surprised. “You would really dance with me looking like this?”
“I would dance with you if you came wearing a suit and tie.”
My mind went back to the ballroom, thinking of how amazing all the ladies looked in their gorgeous gowns, sweeping across the floor effortlessly. It would not be the same for me. Aside from looking like a slut, I was too drunk to be steady, and I didn't want to embarrass Jack any further. Even if he said the event was anonymous, the masks didn't hide much.
“Let's just go,” I replied. “It's late anyway.”
“But you just got here. You really want to go home?” He sounded upset, and I instantly felt guilty for showing up at all.
“Yes.” I avoided his gaze.
He sighed, “Alright. Let's go.”
With Jack at my side, the walk through the ballroom was a little less nerve-wracking. I kept my eyes to the floor, avoiding the awkward stares. Once outside, he sent the valet for his car. When I asked about mine, Jack shushed me. “The least you can do is come over to my place for a while.”
“I'd really just like to go home and go to bed.”
“You can spend the night.”
I frowned at what that meant. Then again, I had pretty much surrendered myself to him by showing up. “What about my car?”
“I'll have someone pick it up and drive it over to my place.”
“You know I can drive it myself.”
“I'm surprised you even made it here in one piece. I know you're drunk.”
Can he smell it on my breath? Of course, he can. It's not like I just had one or two. “I could stand to drink more,” I grumbled, not wanting to remember the night.
“We can do that. Just tell me where you'd like to go.”
“Do you have anything to drink at your place?”
Jack grinned. “I think I can come up with something.”
The limo pulled around, and the valet opened the door for us to step inside. As soon as we were both seated, Jack poured me a glass of champagne. It was a welcome coolness to my dry lips.
He removed his mask and smirked at me while I chugged down the glass. “You were thirsty.”
“It's been a night.”
“It's not over yet.”
That's what I'm afraid of.
After a long silent drive, we pulled up through a set of wrought-iron gates. The mansion loomed before us, a monster of red brick, larger than any one person would ever need. I tried not to look too impressed. After all, Jack was sickeningly wealthy. It would be stupid to expect anything less.
“So this is your castle,” I joked as he helped me out of the limo.
“I prefer to just call it home,” he replied nonchalantly.
My eyes darted around curiously, taking everything in, or at least what I could see through the darkness of night. It seemed like every lamp in the two-story structure was on, casting light down on the small perfectly manicured front yard and walkway below. Shrubs hugged the side of the mansion, surrounding it like a short wall of greenery. Vines climbed up the red brick in places, giving it a romantic feel, though I knew the things that went on inside were far from romantic.
As Jack opened the door for me, I walked into what felt like yet another movie set. The entryway was more expansive than any that I had ever seen, and the floors and furnishings within were immaculately clean. I couldn't imagine how many people it took to keep up with it all, the cars and the yard and the mansion with its ridiculous number of rooms.
“Come.” Jack took my hand and led me across the mansion. It reminded me of a mullet, with the front part for business and the back part for pleasure. The first living room seemed to be the area where he would entertain important guests on plush furniture surrounded by priceless art and sculptures. The back living room had a more casual feel. Game tables separated two sitting areas, one in front of an enormous fireplace, and the other in front of a bar.
“It's hard to believe this is a house,” I muttered under my breath.
“Well, it is.” Jack urged me to sit on a bar stool and then walked around to play bartender. “What's your poison?”
My eyes scanned over the selection, an entire wall lined with shelves dedicated to dozens of bottles of liquor, some of which I had never even heard of before. “It seems you have a lot of poisons to choose from.”
“Everything you'd find in a regular bar, you'll find here, plus more.”
“Are you usually the bartender at your parties?”
“No. I usually hire someone else to do it, but I do know how to mix a drink or two.”
“Well what can you make?”
“Margaritas, bloody marys,” he paused, thinking. “Buttery nipples, martinis.”
“Bloody mary. That's what I want. Get to it, stud. Maybe I'll tip you if you don't fuck it up,” I teased.
Jack laughed. “You're so cold.”
He turned and went to work on our drinks, and while he did, I watched him with nervous anticipation, knowing it was only a matter of time before things took a more intimate turn. This was all leading up to one moment, the moment when we crossed the employee/boss boundary into something more, something we could never come back from. My stomach twisted from the thought. After tonight, everything would change. He'd look at me with different eyes, and I'd know I had just been an objective, conquered to move on to the next. Why was I thinking about this? Why did I care? Like Mandy had said, it was only sex. Jack Kemble was too far out of my league for it to be anything else.
Jack turned to me, setting my drink up on the bar. I was surprised at the artful skill with which it had been prepared. The rim of the glass was perfectly salted. A stalk of celery pointed at me, and two olives gazed up like green eyes.
“So what do you want to do now?” Jack came around to climb up on the bar stool beside me with martini in hand.
“Drink,” I replied dryly, taking a long sip of my beverage.
“Besides that. I have a pool table and a movie theater and a bowling ally.”
