by Barefoot, LW
“She was harmless the first time I ran into her, until she muttered my long dead name and told me a wolf in sheep’s clothing would howl at my door, but I mustn’t let him in,” I explain.
“No shit,” he swears.
Brad’s stunned and I’m a little shocked with his response.
“No shit,” I repeat him.
“Well this little piggy’s house is made of bricks and the wolf won’t get in. Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin,” Brad jokes and attempts to smooth over our creepy encounter.
“The wolf still got in through the chimney,” I mutter to remind him how the nursery rhyme goes the way I remember.
Brad oinks and he succeeds in finally making me smile.
“I’ll have the fire burning under the caldron and I’ll be there lying in wait,” he says as serious as he can be, finishing the rhyme and reminding me that he indeed lies in wait through the witching hours of the night.
Harper
The garment bags Brad brought home a couple of days ago have been hanging where he left them. I started wearing the shoes he brought so they wouldn’t kill my feet.
Brad unzips one of the bags, revealing his tuxedo, and he places it aside. He reaches for the other and opens it.
“Put this on in Jamie’s room. The stairs might not be a good idea, I’ve seen you trip walking up a set,” Brad jokes.
“Okay,” I laugh at his reminder and stare at the dress Brad slips out of the second garment bag.
Green jewel toned swathes of fabric mesmerize me. Reminding me of a fascinating set of eyes I want to escape in. Belonging to the man who set this up and requests my attendance. I walk over to it and run my fingers over the soft silk of the heart shaped bodice.
“What if it doesn’t fit?” I ask.
“Trust me it fits,” Brad snorts.
“How do you know?”
“Because Evan had it made specifically for you.”
I continue to study the beautiful details of the timeless dress. Brad doesn’t ask if I like it, I’m basically drooling over it.
It’s as if Evan knew we were talking about him. Brad’s phone rings and he answers it. He speaks with Evan and it sounds like they’re going over the schedule for tonight. There’s a lot of talking on Evan’s end and one word statements on Brad’s.
“He wants to talk with you,” he mutters, hands me the phone, and leaves the room.
“Hi,” I say, blushing for no reason.
“How are you?” Evan asks.
“Good. I’m just ready to get tonight over and done with,” I confess.
“Me, too. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“Do you like the dress?” he asks.
“It’s stunning. The color reminds me of your eyes.”
“I chose it because it made me think of yours,” he admits.
Oh, sweet Evan is someone I haven’t met before.
“I don’t have green in my eyes,” I remind him.
“You do. The color swirls with depth along with gold and toffee colored hues.”
I like sweet Evan. I like him a lot.
“I miss you,” I repeat my earlier confession.
“I sent off the information Tom has been requesting. After tonight, we’ll be free.”
I want to believe him, but he’s worried about the vultures that share his name and I’m worried about the dark shadow that haunts me. Our fears are misplaced and contradicting. Understanding from separate perspectives is hard to comprehend and damn near impossible to wrap my mind around.
‘The devil you know than the devil you don’t.’
“I can’t wait to see you,” I admit.
“I’ll see you soon, Harper. And I promise to make up for you having to go through with this.”
We end the call on similar notes and opposite understandings. He has helped me with so much I want to show him my appreciation. I will overcome my ancient fears because this is important to him.
The fact that I’m dressed and wearing more than what my entire house is worth is no big deal at all.
I leave my hair down. Tamed waves hang across my shoulders and back. I have to use extra concealer on the bruise that refuses to fade on my neck. Everything from the shoes to the gown fit to perfection. Evan’s necklace sits high and heavy. The weight I’ve gotten used to, but I am always aware of it hanging around my neck.
Brad whistles when I emerge from Jamie’s room. He was right about me not walking down a flight of stairs in the dress. The tight bodice is restrictive all the way to the top of my hips. I would have tripped on the flowing fabric that sweeps down and allows the tips of amethyst satin stilettos to show when I walk. When I look down I think of my favorite roses and the reason Evan chose these as well.
Jamie uncorks a bottle of Prosecco before we leave. I thank him for knowing exactly what I need. I nervously tap the invitation against the marble countertop while I sip the wine, until Brad takes it away from me and slips it in his suit coat.
“Are you ready to go?” Brad asks after we eat some of Jamie’s latest menu creations.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I choke and fill a small plastic cup with champagne to take with me.
“Keeping it classy?” Jamie teases about my trashy to-go cup.
Jamie walks with Brad and I through the courtyard and iron gates that lead out to the street.
The aged cobblestones meet slate sidewalks with rocky textures as my heels navigate across them.
Seth leans against a classic Rolls Royce. When he sees us approach, he opens the back door.
“Good evening, Harper. You look beautiful as always.”
“Thank you. You’re not going to have to bite me at any point tonight?” I ask.
“God, I hope not,” he winks.
Jamie pulls me into a hug.
“Have fun tonight, Harper.”
It’s strange to see the two of us right now. We’re worlds apart. Jamie wears the restaurant’s uniform and I’m in a gorgeous ballgown.
“You have nothing to worry about. Remember what I told you about Evan. He would do anything for someone he cares about, Harper. No matter how ruthless he has to be.”
Seth snorts after Jamie’s comment. Giving even more credit to Evan with his immediate reaction.
Jamie helps me pick up the excessive material and pushes it into the car after I’m seated. He takes my hand and presses a kiss on top of it, bowing down like a proper gentleman. Everything would be so much easier if I found my Prince Charming in the boy who has played one my entire life. Recognition flickers over his features and he shakes it off as soon as it happens. Brad slides on the seat next to me.
“I’ll see you later tonight. We’ll celebrate and laugh about how we made it through another Mardi Gras,” Jamie smirks.
“I can’t wait,” I tell him.
Brad opens the box I haven’t seen since we left the artisan’s shop with the custom made mask.
“It’s show time,” he teases.
He opens the box and pulls out the ridiculous mask he put on that day to help ease my slow building fear. I giggle as hot pink feathers fan over his dark face.
“Hey, where’s the boa?” I joke.
“That’s for the afterparty,” he says in all seriousness.
Even Seth shakes his head smirking while driving and manages not to hit drunk pedestrians.
Brad helps with my mask as I let out a deep breath. Sheer gold lace covers minimally across my nose and above my cheeks. It’s as light as a feather, but weighs me down with a heavy dose of resentment.
“So what happens tonight?” I ask.
The lace already itches and bothers my skin. My eyelashes catch on the fabric and I push it down my nose so they won’t rub against each other.
“We show up, follow along, smile when prompted, by all means, act bored as hell, and wait for Evan.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“I sure as hell hope so.”
We finally brea
k free from the madness of the French Quarter. Tall downtown buildings of the Central Business District fade to tree lined streets and trolley cars into the Lower Garden District. The car rolls past beautiful old homes and giant oak trees. The further we travel, the larger the homes become. With massive porches and intricate details on the facades. Iron fences stretch and mingle with the exteriors to make them all the more enchanting.
Seth drives the car through massive gates and around a large circle drive that reminds me of Evan’s plantation. Attendants move about the grounds. All of their faces are covered in black leather masks. They open doors and usher in couples dressed in what most people only see in fashion magazines.
Brad takes off his cheap mask and slips on the same black leather everyone else seems to be wearing. I glance at Seth in the front seat and our eyes lock in the rearview. I take a deep breath.
“Harper, I’ll protect you just like I did at the plantation,” Seth commands.
The car pulls to a stop, Brad hops out, and moves to my door. My pulse races as Seth lifts the identical leather across his cheeks. Brad gives me a hand and helps with my massive skirt teasing me in hushed whispers about me tripping and falling flat on my face before I ever make it to the front door.
“Is Seth coming?” I whisper, eclipsing Brad’s efforts to calm my nerves.
“He’s parking the car. We’ll see him inside,” Brad mutters as we move up the massive stairs to the front entrance.
There’s a slight chill in the air as music filters from the open doors and fills the night with the melody of stringed instruments being manipulated.
Everyone wears elaborate masks and gowns. It’s almost like stepping back in time or witnessing front row at fashion week. My grip on Brad’s arm grows tighter. I accept the glass of champagne he produces.
“Let’s not chug this one, like you did your roady,” he whispers in my ear.
I manage to laugh and hate that it draws attention to us. A short woman walks up to us and asks for our invitation. Brad hands her the envelope he tucked in his suit coat earlier and she looks at it in wonder, pulling down her mask, and slipping a pair of glasses on her round face. She studies the paper and then observes me. The lack of injections in her face makes her stand out in a room full of Botox and cosmetic fillers. Her expression is softer and displays the smile lines she’s earned and wears with pride.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she loudly exclaims.
She’s oblivious to how loud she is or simply doesn’t care. When she smiles, her cheeks push up, and her glasses ride higher on her nose. Her shocked voice draws the attention of the people around us.
“My dear, where on earth are my manners? I’m Annabelle, and you, my darling, are the best surprise I’ve had in a long while. What’s your name, love?”
“Harper, pleasure to meet you.”
“Nope, the pleasure’s all mine, my dear.”
She links her pudgy fingers with mine as she winks at Brad. He allows her to pull me away from him. I follow her deeper in the house, feeling Brad’s comforting presence as he becomes the shadow he’s so good at.
Annabelle walks us to a roped off section with white tablecloths and sparkling crystal. Massive candelabras flicker with lit candles on large round tables. The moment she ushers me to a chair, I expect her to leave and return to her other guests. Instead, she pulls out the chair next to mine. Her short legs swing back and forth, unable to touch the ground as she makes herself comfortable.
“Thank you, Annabelle, but don’t you have other guests to greet?” I ask, concerned I’m already taking her away from the other partygoers.
“Oh no, my child, I wouldn’t leave you alone in this pit of primped, dolled-up vipers,” Anna bites out.
Smiling at me while giving up on the pretense of her mask. That small annoyance is a much needed reprieve for me to look at her while she speaks. She uses my invitation to fan herself, as her attention moves over the enormous ballroom. I follow her gaze. People saunter in and get seated.
Any medium I could possibly imagine has been used to create the many guises that adorn every face in attendance.
Music starts playing as a large curtain lifts off to the side of the velvet divide. Everyone promptly takes their seats as the lights dim.
No one moves with the exception of a lone violinist. He walks to the center of the grand ballroom. The setting is tastefully flamboyant, with the full court and jesters included. The melody of the lone musician pulls at the crowd and reduces the audacious atmosphere.
The slow slide of music taunts in its simplicity. The bow sweeps slowly across strings. Hauntingly beautiful notes echo throughout the space. The musician focused only on his violin and the melody he creates, the spell he pulls everyone into. Head bent down on the chin rest, eyes closed.
Dancers spread out, light on their feet. Slowly moving in time with the music. Their bodies working in and around the promise of completion and it hangs on the chorus. The peak comes as other musicians join in, raising the roof off the place.
Lights remain on the single violinist and dancers. The only dancer wearing a contrasting outfit, white to their black, plays at getting the attention of the lone violinist. She moves and stretches, spins around him in large sweeping circles. Working harder than any of the others to gain his recognition. Moving closer to him as she begins to sway and lean into him. Seductive and tempting, but his eyes never land on her. The others hold his rapt attention.
The lonely dancer takes a false dagger to the heart from an unseen source, in time with the ending note. The other dancers fall back in the shadows. The violinist notices her downfall and the red stain floods through the white fabric of her outfit. His instrument drops and shatters. Casting aside his beloved violin to focus on his fallen love. He lifts her prone form off the ballroom floor. Her long train trails behind the retreating couple. The violinist moves in slow, melancholy steps as the other musicians fade off the tune with their dramatic exit. The room erupts in cheers. The creative display both impressive and moving.
I feel apprehensive with the message of the performance. I try to shake off the ominous feeling. It was just a show. A part of the entertainment, I tell myself.
After the lights follow the couple off the floor, people start to stand as music builds and couples move across the dance floor. I watch the twirling faces wearing different shades of concealment. Sparkling sequins and glittering crystals. Feathers of every size and color. Whole face, half face, partial eye coverage. I could paint an entire collection on the many different types of masks. Every shade of color under the rainbow spins and has an accompanying smile or smirk underneath it. The black masks are the ones that draw me in. I see them in the shadows, with watching eyes and dedicated attention. Light to dark. Matte black leather says it all.
I look for Brad and Seth and harder for Evan. I lift my glass to take a drink, but it’s empty. Annabelle carries on with another woman around her age as I stand to make my way through the crowd to the bar. Brad and Seth are wearing the dark hue that’s absent of light. Their eyes are the only ones I search for when I get an invitation to dance.
I move away from someone who resembles Grayson. He too wears black. My nightmare now spins around with multiple faces and I push away the bubbling volcano of panic that rises through my veins.
I sense eyes on me as I walk. I feel like a target has been painted on my back. The feeling started to crawl up my spine during the performance just moments ago, but now I can’t shake it off.
I slide up to the bar and expect Seth or Brad to find me. It’s their job to watch me, so that has to be why I feel like a sitting duck.
“Would you like more champagne?” the bartender asks.
The last time I indulged in champagne got me in trouble and I’m trying my hardest to avoid it at all costs.
I wish he would start lining up tequila shots and the thought somehow makes me crave dark aged whiskey.
“Something stronger, perhaps,” I confess.
He notices me staring at Evan’s favorite flavor and takes it off the shelf. He pours a finger in a short tumbler and places it in front of me. I lift the glass to my lips and take a long drink. Enjoying the slow burn across my tongue. I will the numbing effects to start immediately.
“You know you’re playing with fire, right?” the bartender asks his rapt attention on the diamond necklace that glitters in the dark ballroom. He’s not referring to the alcohol he just poured me.
“Mr. Hawthorne requests your presence,” a deep southern accent says.
I look over after throwing the contents of my glass down my throat. Signaling the bartender to fill it back up. He complies and I repeat the process, before I turn my attention to the man waiting on me.
I search the room for Brad or Seth, but I can’t find them.
The dizzying dominos make it hard to distinguish familiar faces.
“He’s the reason you’re here tonight. I assure you he’s waiting for you, Harper,” the man states.
His accent wraps around the syllables of my name. I nod as we move through the crowd, constantly searching for an athletic build a head taller than everyone in attendance, stealthy blue eyes with sharp teeth, or rich emerald eyes that dance with lust and match the color of my gown. I can’t find any of them, but then this gentleman said he would take me to Evan.
His warm grip is above my elbow and I let out the fearful breath I’m holding in when I see the same car I arrived in.
The Rolls Royce idles with Seth behind the wheel and a mask covering his face. The same one I saw him put on. He swore he would protect, just like he did at the plantation.
The man who pulled me away from the bar picks up the excessive material of my dress and slides in the backseat next to me. I look up expecting to meet Seth’s stealthy blue eyes only to crash with chilling steel grey in the rearview and realization hits me with a sharp sting in my shoulder.
The needle punctures and pushes through my skin. Throwing me down into drowning unconsciousness. That all too familiar kiss of darkness wraps its cruel fingers around me and welcomes me like a long forgotten lover…
