by Wilson, Maer
We stepped in and rose up at a smooth, but fast rate, judging by the digital floor numbers flashing on the display. When we came to a stop, the doors slid open to reveal a lobby, decorated in modern art decor. Black, cream, gold and red were tastefully blended in the few benches and chairs.
There were other couples in front of us. At a podium, the maître d' took tickets and checked names against yet another list. He would motion behind him and one of the servers would step forward. The maître d' introduced him or her to the guests, and they were led off into the main room by their smiling server.
Soft music trickled out from the other room. As we stepped up to the podium, we heard the elevator doors open behind us. A loud, abrasive female voice cut through the music.
“Can you imagine not knowing who I am? Honestly, to tell me I need a reservation!”
Thulu and I glanced around to see a gaudily dressed female surrounded by three other people. She had bright purple hair, wore a short black vinyl skirt, low cut, black sequined midriff top and lots of chains. She wobbled unsteadily in high heeled, black, thigh-high boots. Her makeup was thick and heavy on the eyes. I could smell the alcohol from where we stood.
Everyone except her party came to a dead stop. She moved across the floor, and I recognized the popular rock star, Miss Diva. I always thought that was rather wishful but futile thinking on her part.
I sometimes listened to her music, but not often, even though it had a good beat and surprisingly good lyrics. She was controversial, with her slutty behavior and rumors of drugs and alcohol abuse making headlines. She tried too hard and came across as “forced.” She stepped around the other side of Thulu and spoke to the maître d'.
“Hi, I heard this show is awesome, and I'm here to see it. I need a table for four.”
The maître d' politely inclined his head.
“If you'll excuse me, these people were here first. Please, let me get them seated, and I'll be happy to help you.”
She put a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
The maître d' gave us a strained and apologetic sliver of a smile.
Thulu showed him our tickets. When he heard our name, he looked up with a bigger, more genuine smile, “Oh, yes, Mr. and Mrs. Thulukan, we're so pleased you could join us tonight.” He glanced at the servers patiently waiting behind him and called one over. Thomas was a short young man and not the next in line. He stepped forward with a polite nod and smile and motioned for us to follow him.
The room was exquisite. Carrying through with the same theme from the outer area, it held about fifty tables. There was a mix of table sizes, with the largest being for six. The tables, which were mostly already full, were placed on different levels. These stepped down to a small floor area in front of a low stage.
The stage itself held a black grand piano. A tall bistro chair in black wrought iron and velvet was placed next to a matching table with a black marble top. A crystal pitcher filled with ice and water sat on the table, with a matching tumbler next to it. A crystal bowl held lemon slices on ice. Heavy, cream colored curtains stretched across the back wall and on the sides of the stage and pooled on the floor.
Thomas threaded his way through the tables and levels to one of five tables on the floor level. The three in the center were small tables for two, with the two on either end being four tops. He seated us at the center table. The others were filled, except for the four top to our far right.
“I'll be right back with your champagne. It was pre-ordered, and we were assured it was one of your favorites.”
Thulu thanked him as he left.
We looked around with interest. The ages of the audience varied widely. Some were young, like me and Thulu, while others were definitely retirement age. Everyone was dressed nicely, but not everyone was dressed expensively. Some simply knew how to put together an outfit without spending a lot. What surprised me was when we made eye contact with others. They smiled or nodded, acknowledging us. We smiled back. The atmosphere was expectant, excited and friendly. It was easy to relax in this place.
“I don't think you understand who I am!” Strident tones cut through the soft conversation. The people at the tables around us looked back to the doorway. Miss Diva could be partially seen through the doorway.
“I'm just in town for the night, and I want to see this show,” she demanded.
Another pause. The audience moved restlessly. Some of us seemed embarrassed by her behavior, others were surprised or annoyed.
I overheard the man at the next table ask who she was. His companion shook her head, as she caught my eye. She raised her eyebrows questioningly at me. I leaned across the space between our tables and told them. They shrugged, so I explained she was a rock star. Neither seemed impressed.
“I don't care if you're sold out. Just set up another table somewhere.”
I looked around. I hadn't seen a lot of places to put an extra four top, even allowing for the small size of a cocktail table.
“Well, I'm not leaving. Screw your fire laws.” Her voice became louder. I turned to look and saw her in the doorway. The maître d' led her back to the lobby.
Thomas came back at that moment, accompanied by another server. They brought a bottle of champagne and a bucket of ice on a stand. All of the servers seemed to be moving a bit quicker, as if to defuse the awkwardness from Miss Diva.
Thomas presented the bottle to Thulu, who raised an eyebrow and graciously nodded. The champagne ritual began. Thulu shot a look at me once and showed me his dimples. Once both glasses had been poured, Thulu offered some to Thomas. With a surprised smile, he quickly moved off and returned with a glass. He poured himself a tiny sip of champagne.
Thulu handed me my glass, and with a simple, “To the future,” the three of us clinked our glasses together. They both watched while I sipped.
I looked at Thulu and Thomas in shock. Yes, I knew this champagne. It was a Krug, and a bottle had been served to the wedding party at our wedding. It was also several hundred dollars a bottle. What was Nana up to, anyway?
We sipped our champagne. After thanking us both, Thomas said, “Enjoy the show.” With a twinkle in his eye, he left our table.
We sat back, chairs near each other, enjoying the moment. I glanced contentedly around the room and was startled to see a ghost gliding down the far aisle. He was in his twenties, with slicked back dark hair. Dressed in tails and carrying a top hat, he wore a long fur coat carelessly draped across his shoulders. He held an elegant walking stick in one hand. When he realized I could see him, he gave me a short bow and continued to the empty table on the far right. He sat in the farthest chair, letting his coat slip from his shoulders. It dematerialized as it sank through the chair and floor.
I turned to nudge Thulu, but he had followed the ghost's progress, as well. We exchanged looks. Interesting development.
“No, damn it, I saw an empty table. No one is sitting there, so I am going to. Come on, guys.”
I turned in time to see the rock diva clump into the room, trailed by her entourage. She glared at anyone who dared to make eye contact. I saw more than one head shake in disgust and caught a few people covering their smiles. I also saw more than one phone slip out of a purse or pocket and aimed toward her. My money was on pictures of her hitting the Internet within moments.
The maître d' obviously felt it was better to let her go than to allow the scene to escalate anymore. A whispered comment from the maître d' sent Thomas quickly down to the stage and through the curtains on one side.
Miss Diva continued to the table on the floor. She yanked out the chair with the ghost, who remained seated in mid-air, plopped herself down and scooted the chair back in through the ghost. She gave a slight shudder and rubbed her bare arms a moment.
The ghost looked around in astonishment and met my eyes. I gave a slight, surreptitious shake of my head. I looked over at Thulu, who shrugged. I wasn't sure whether it was at me, the situation or the ghost, though.
I fel
t sorry for the ghost as he stood up, glaring at Miss Diva. He stood tapping his elegant fingers on his cane and maybe thinking about leaving. He sat in the chair farthest from Miss Diva, facing the stage, with his back pointedly to her. Not that she could see him.
Miss Diva's entourage didn't join her at the table. They stood against the side wall, clearly uncomfortable. They had the look of bodyguards and obviously felt out of place.
The house lights dimmed, and the soft stage lighting brightened. The curtains parted as the pianist came onstage and the audience applauded. With a short bow, he sat at the piano and began to play.
Brandy Malone stepped onstage to a suddenly hushed audience, then thunderous applause. She had a following, that was clear, as some of the audience were obviously fans.
She was tall, slender and stunningly beautiful, with pale skin and long, dark auburn hair and brown eyes. She was dressed in a tasteful, simply cut black evening gown. Dark crystal swirls patterned the fabric, catching the lights as she moved. At her throat was a gorgeous necklace that draped down in crystal strands. Everything about her was elegant.
She carried her mic and in a low and sultry tone began to sing “Strange Magic.” She had sung the first few bars when it hit me – Brandy Malone was male.
She allowed her gaze to wander to the table where Miss Diva sat. She stopped singing and stared at Miss Diva.
“Oh, my, god! Are you dead already?” Brandy held one hand theatrically at her chest.
The rock star looked around, confused, as was most of the audience.
“Dead? Hell no, I'm not dead!”
An enormous sigh of relief. “Oh, okay, good. I was just shocked for a moment because you are sitting at the spirit table.”
“What the hell does that mean?” demanded Miss Diva.
“Well, for those of you who don't know,” she smiled at her audience, “I keep this one table clear in honor of those who may still remain on this plane. That way, any who have left off living can have a place to call their own, at least at my show.” She gave a big smile to Miss Diva. “So, you see, Miss Diva, I thought maybe you had died. I'm glad to see you alive and well. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, dear.”
The audience applauded appreciatively, and Brandy curtsied graciously.
Miss Diva looked around again, this time uncertainly, but Brandy had pulled the focus back to herself. Miss Diva actually raised her hand.
“Yes, dear?”
“There are ghosts at this table?”
“Only one, dear. And I'm pretty sure he's gay, so you don't have to worry about him hitting on you.” A light laugh from the audience. Brandy looked at the rest of the audience, then back at the ghost. To the audience, she would have been looking at an empty chair. The ghost had stood and made an elaborate bow to Brandy and a small one to Miss Diva. He turned to me and Thulu and winked, and then he resumed his seat. Brandy caught the wink and briefly looked over at us.
“Apparently all is well, he doesn't mind sharing his table tonight.” Another soft laugh from her audience.
Miss Diva was trying to figure out if she was the butt of a joke. She seemed a bit more sober than she had earlier. I wondered if the cold from the ghost had shocked some sense into her.
Brandy moved to center stage. “Thank you all so very much for joining me tonight. Who am I and what do I do are probably questions some of you are asking yourselves. Well, I'm a bit of an – illusionist.” Definite laughter from the audience. “Sometimes I can connect with other planes of existence. Sometimes, I sing. Now and then, I even manage some magic. I've been known to read minds, so be careful what you think.” She raised an admonitory finger. “Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Brandy Malone.” More applause. “Shall we begin?”
Thulu and I exchanged another look.
Brandy moved down the two steps to the floor. She greeted the couple I had spoken to earlier.
“Here we have the first of our anniversary couples. Yours is thirty, correct?” They nodded, smiling. “And you didn't want anything special. You'd just heard the show was interesting and I was – different.” Brandy primped for her audience. “Well, happy anniversary and thank you for choosing to spend a special night with me.”
She moved over to me and Thulu. I prepared to cringe. I hated being the center of attention. “Here we have a couple who have only been married two years, but you've known each other far, far longer than that.” She gazed at us warmly. “Interesting. Childhood sweethearts, even. Also, unfortunately, not in need of my help. Thank you for joining me.”
She briefly mentioned the next two couples, both anniversaries. She asked the audience to applaud all of us in our marital journeys, and moved up the stairs. Thulu and I turned in our chairs to follow her progress. I thought this was a very weird show, but I liked Brandy. Even Miss Diva seemed to be intrigued by her and turned to follow her progress.
Brandy stopped at a table of four. “Well, hello there, and you must be Claudia.” She leaned over and gave a kiss on the cheek to an elderly woman. “Claudia, today is your birthday. Would you please tell the audience how young you are?”
Claudia answered that she was ninety. Applause from the audience.
“And you lost your husband last year. How long had you been married?”
“Seventy years.”
“Wow, now that is a major accomplishment. You were wondering if he was still here, weren't you, Claudia?”
The white head nodded.
“You had a picture for me?”
“Well, I did. I had it on the bureau upstairs, but when I came from the bath, it was gone.” Her voice broke. “We looked for it, but couldn't find it.”
Brandy seemed distressed and closed her eyes. The audience waited.
Thulu moved his head. He briefly closed his eyes and went still. I could tell he was trying to “find” the picture.
A few moments later, Brandy opened her eyes to stare straight at Thulu.
“Claudia, your picture isn't lost. When the air conditioner came on in your room, it blew the picture behind the dresser.” She turned to the maître d' who stood by the door. “Could we please get someone to retrieve the picture from Claudia's room?”
He nodded. Brandy moved on after giving Thulu a smile and Claudia a reassuring hug.
Next, she stopped at a table with an attractive couple. She stared thoughtfully at a balding, heavy set man. “No, George, I'm not sure that investment would be the best path at this time.” George nodded, disappointed, I think. Brandy started to move off, but turned back. “You have a new employee who has some excellent ideas, though. You should talk to her.” George nodded as Brandy smiled and moved away.
Brandy looked at her pianist, who started the intro to an upbeat rendition of “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered”. She moved gracefully around the room, singing to her audience in a beautiful tenor voice.
As she moved, I realized she was making the audience feel at ease, content and peaceful. She projected that all was right with the world. It wasn't her singing, though. And it wasn't working on me or Thulu, although I did enjoy the song. She was an empath, but one who could project. Very interesting, Nana.
She moved by the entrance and brushed the hand of a server standing there. I could have sworn he handed her something. She ended next to Claudia, amidst loving applause. She graciously acknowledged her pianist.
“Claudia, I believe this belongs to you?” She did the behind Claudia's ear trick and handed the woman a small rectangle of paper.
“Oh my, yes! This is my picture!” Tears were in Claudia's voice. “Oh, thank you so much!”
The back curtains on the stage drew up to reveal a large screen. Suddenly, a very old black and white picture of a couple was displayed there. They were in their wedding finery, and joy shone from their faces.
Brandy smiled. “Now, we'll get back to the way this was supposed to go before we lost this gorgeous picture.” She turned around, looking at her entire audience.
“This is Claudia and Jack Fredricks on their wedding day. Claudia would like to know if he is still here on this plane, or if he has moved on.”
Brandy looked at our ghost. The ghost called the name “Jack Fredricks” several times, but there was no answer. A young man appeared.
“Are you Jack?” asked Brandy.
“No, I'm a buddy of his from when he went to war. Jack went into the light right after he died.”
“I'm sorry, Claudia. There is a young man here, but he isn't Jack. I think he knew Jack, though. I'm not understanding him very clearly.”
I didn't know why a telepath was having trouble understanding the man. He was clear enough about it. Brandy gave a delighted laugh.
“Ah, I have it now. Claudia, the man says he knew Jack in the war, and that Jack went into the light right after he died. I'm sure he'd want you to enjoy your life and know that he will be waiting for you. You are not to hurry on his account, though, young lady.” Brandy lifted that whole thing from my mind or maybe the ghost's, I was sure. She gave me a wink as she turned away. Okay, so mine.
The picture gradually faded from the screen, and the curtains came down to huge applause. Miss Diva was clapping as enthusiastically as the rest of Brandy’s fans. Brandy continued making the rounds. She hypnotized someone who wanted to stop smoking and another who wanted to lose weight. Those went much faster than I would have expected them to.
With the ghost's help, she let several other parties know their loved ones had gone on. She predicted the future for several others.
She made two doves appear, and I have no idea from where. There wasn't a lot of fabric to hide anything in. She sang several more songs. The whole while, she spread her message of well-being underneath everything.
Near the end of the evening, when she apparently had taken care of everyone, she asked if she had missed anyone.
“Me.” We had all forgotten Miss Diva. “Do you know my future?”
Brandy stared at her thoughtfully. “Yes, I do.” She hesitated. “I'll speak to you after the show, if you would stay, please?”
