by Sky Corgan
“Jen, it's Jack fucking Kemble. Most girls would pay to sleep with him.”
I sat up, wiping my eyes. Mandy was right. Things could be a lot worse. Jack could be cruel or unattractive, but he was neither. Most women wouldn't be whining if they were in my position. So why was I? Deep down, I knew the answer. It had nothing to do with my job. I just didn't want to be one of hundreds, a notch on his bed post, not special. Girls were a dime a dozen to Jack, and if I slept with him, it would make me feel cheap. That was the real reason I didn't want to sleep with him, as stupid and selfish as it was. But Jack had gave me so much. The least I could do was give him my body. Still, it was a souring thought, like I was selling myself. I didn't like it.
“You're right. I'm fine,” I said finally, getting up to go to my room. Mandy didn't understand. She wasn't going to understand, so there was no point in discussing it any further.
I dreaded Monday like the plague, but it came regardless of my feelings. When I stepped into Jack's office to hand him his coffee, I didn't even want to look at him. You won, you smug son of a bitch. You're going to get what you want. I hope you're happy.
Despite my internal bitterness, Jack treated me no different than he ever had. The day continued on as normal, though I performed my job tasks with much less enthusiasm. At the end of the shift, I half expected Jack to ask if I wanted to go back to his place, but he didn't, and I was thankful for it.
When I got home, there was a large bouquet of roses sitting on the middle of the kitchen table. At first, I didn't think anything of it, assuming they belonged to Mandy. But when she got home from work that afternoon, the first thing she asked was, “Did you figure out who sent the flowers?”
“I thought they were yours,” I replied, pulling myself off the couch to go look at the card.
“It says they're from your secret admirer. Scrounge up any secret admirers lately?”
“Not that I can think of. Maybe they're from Eric.”
Not feeling like playing games, I called up Eric to inquire about the roses.
“Do you want me to send you roses?” He asked teasingly. “Because I can, if it will make you go out with me.”
“Not a chance, hot stuff,” I laughed.
“Looks like I'm not the only one after Jenny. I guess I should start stepping up my game.”
“Or stepping down, the same as this guy is going to have to do. I don't want to date anyone right now.” Or did I? Maybe if I had a boyfriend, Jack would leave me alone, though it hadn't stopped him from hooking up with the married girls in the office.
“Poor us,” Eric laughed uncomfortably.
“Indeed.”
There were only two other possibilities of where the roses had come from, and neither one of them were appealing. Jack obviously knew where I lived, though I didn't picture him as a romantic guy. Besides, I had just rejected him yet again. Why would he bother?
The only other person I could think of was my stalker from the last apartment complex I lived in, but that was highly improbable. We had moved shortly after he started harassing me. Besides, he had left the roses on my car, not on my doorstep.
Jack was the only real possibility, but I was too scared to ask him about it. I decided it was best to just ignore the gesture. If he had sent them, surely he would eventually bring it up.
The next day when I got home from work, there was an edible arrangement in the fridge. It seemed my secret admirer was relentless. Each day of the week, he sent something else. On Tuesday, it was a box of chocolates. On Wednesday, it was a giant stuffed bear. On Thursday, it was a bottle of champagne. And on Friday, it was just an envelope. It was waiting for me on the table when I walked through the door. The handwriting wasn't Jack's, but as soon as I opened the letter, I knew it was from him. Inside was one thousand dollars in cash, a business card to a dress shop, a ticket to a masked ball, and a note that read:
Dear Juliet,
I would be ever so honored if you would attend this year's Halloween Masked Ball with me. Enclosed you will find the funds to transform you into Masked Ball royalty. See the dress maker from the business card to be fitted in a gown made for a princess. Don't forget to buy a mask with it, otherwise they won't let you in.
When you get to the ball, tell no one your name. This is a completely anonymous event. Simply hand the doorman your ticket, and you will be admitted into the building. I will be waiting for you at the top of the stairs inside the ballroom.
If you do not attend, I will be utterly heartbroken. All advances toward you will cease, and you'll forever be left wondering who your secret admirer is.
All of my love,
Romeo
There was no question in my mind who my secret admirer was. Now it was just a matter of whether or not I'd reject him. This was it, the crossroads where I could make all of my problems go away. All I had to do was not show up.
CHAPTER THREE
I handed Mandy four crisp hundred-dollar bills. “This should pay up what I owe you for back rent.”
She took the bills apprehensively. I could tell part of her didn't want to take the money, but she wasn't dumb enough to give it back. This was the only chance Mandy would get for a while to be paid in one lump sum. “Six-hundred dollars should still buy you a nice dress,” she said finally.
“I think a flat-screen TV would be nicer,” I suggested.
“Jen.” Mandy gave me a sardonic look.
“What? He didn't say I had to give the money back to him if I didn't go to the ball.”
“I know, but you can't just blow him off like that.”
“Why not? It's the answer to my prayers. Did you read the part in the note where he said he'll cease pursuing me? It's absolutely perfect. Once this stupid ball is over, I can stop holding my breath at work.”
She sighed. “I suppose you're right. Still, I think you should go.”
“Why?”
“Because it would be fun.”
“Jack Kemble's fun is going to ruin my life, and I rather like my life the way it is now, don't you?”
“It's just sex,” she muttered before walking away with the money in hand.
Just sex? Not hardly. How could I just have sex with my boss—someone who had complete control over my financial well being?
I shoved the other six-hundred dollars in my pocket and then picked up the rest of the contents from the envelope and took them to my room. My first instinct was to throw them all in the garbage and be done with it, but sentiment stopped me. It would be a nice souvenir for later, maybe something to tell my children or grandchildren about, if I ever had any. The time I rejected multibillionaire Jack Kemble.
Days and weeks passed as normal. There were no more gifts from my secret admirer. Then again, I suppose a grand was the ultimate gift in a non-reciprocating relationship. Thoughts of buying that television were still on my mind, but I hadn't done it yet. How surprised Mandy would be to come home and see it sitting in our living room. And how disappointed she would be in me for not bending to Jack Kemble's will.
There was a business trip the week before Halloween. The thought of being alone in a hotel suite with Jack made me more nervous than usual. It would be the perfect time for him to mention the gifts, and to inquire if I had any thought toward going to the Masked Ball. When he did break down and ask, “Got any plans for Halloween?” All I could think of to say was, “Going to the bar with friends. What about you?”
“I have an engagement to make,” Jack replied with no change in expression or mood. It was very cryptic, but I dare not ask anything further.
Halloween was quickly approaching, and I needed to figure out what I was going to do. Mandy had to work that night, which greatly limited my options. Luckily, Eric invited me to a party. He sounded excited when I accepted the invitation, as if he hadn't expected I would.
It was nerve-wracking that I had to work on Halloween, but I dealt with it well enough. Every time Jack Kemble crossed my path, I watched him in my peripheral vision to se
e if he looked at me, but he never did. The way Jack acted like nothing was going on agitated me, but I supposed he was an expert at it at, having banged all the girls in the office.
The day ended, and I left work to head to the costume store. I thought about the six-hundred dollars in my purse as I waded through the sea of people to pick through the leftovers. While I wanted to be something skanky, like Catwoman or a naughty cop, my mind kept going back to thoughts of the Masked Ball, and guilt at the fact I wasn't going. The least I could do was be the princess, even if Jack wouldn't see it. Since none of the Disney princess costumes were appealing, and most were sold out, I went for a more adult twist. It was a gorgeous costume. Sexy, but not too sexy. The main piece was a brocade corset dress in pale blue with white venise lace trim, golden embroidery, puffed sleeves, and a lace-up back. The skirt was large, like a ball gown, held in place by a tulle petticoat. While the front of the skirt was only long enough to cover half my thighs, the back cascaded down into a sheer gold bustle. It was the most gorgeous Halloween costume I had ever bought. After adding a matching blue and white headband, long white gloves, white thigh-high stockings, and a pair of golden stilettos, my bill came out to just shy of three-hundred dollars. The girl in the picture was a blonde, but I refused to buy a blonde wig with the costume, out of spite. As a last-minute edition, I grabbed a mask off one of the shelves. It was royal blue with gold sequins around the border and glitter around the eyes. While it didn't really match the rest of my outfit, it was the closest I could get with the dismal selection left over by last-minute shoppers, so I figured it would do . . . not that I'd actually use it. It would be going in my memento pile with the rest of the contents from the envelope.
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 hil
l 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.
