The Milburn Big Box Set

by Nancy McGovern

  Seth Sultan! She’d grown up listening to his songs. Why, she was certain everyone she knew had grown up listening to his songs. Beginning in the 80s, the man had shaped the face of rock, first with his band, and then in his solo career. He’d created energetic, innovative songs with a thread of melancholy through all of them. There wasn’t a child across the country who didn’t know that face; warm chocolate brown eyes, with sharply arched brows, and a broad mouth which dimpled when he smiled. To Nora, the man was an icon. She’d thought of him more as a character than a real, living person.

  Yet here she was; she’d be making a fairly obscene amount of money for a day’s work. Seth seemed a little eccentric, though. In terse emails, he’d insisted Nora come alone, with no assistants, and overrode her protests about needing Tina by pointing out that there would only be five people at the party. Surely she should be able to handle that, for the price he was paying.

  Her thoughts were cut short as an audible gasp went up around the room. Despite the exclusive nature of the hotel, and the presence of iconic artwork or expensive furniture, its guests were still stunned to see “The Sultan” in person. Nora saw a woman reposition herself and discreetly take a selfie with him in the background, while staff paused to ogle him out of the corner of their eye.

  Nora felt frozen, like she were in the presence of royalty; it was ridiculous, really. She’d never thought she was the kind of silly girl who’d go gaga over a celebrity. Yet for all the interviews and photos and music videos she’d seen of him, nothing had prepared her for the sheer force of personality that he exuded. For a star of his stature, she would have expected arrogance, or a certain meanness. Instead, he approached her as casually as any of the patrons in the bar, extending his hand forward and saying, “Nora? Lovely to meet you. I’m Seth.”

  “Y-yes of course- I- lovely to meet you too, sir,” she stumbled.

  Those famous dimples made an appearance as his mouth curved into a smile. “Seth, not sir,” he said. “I’ve not been knighted…yet.”

  Nora nodded silently, unable to get a word out. Every eye in the lobby was on them, and while Seth seemed unconscious of it, she felt rather like a bug in a biology lab.

  “So it’s my birthday this weekend. Try and guess my age,” he said with a smile, and Nora blinked.

  “I—” she shrugged, her eyes taking in his wrinkled brow, and the famous mane of hair, now with streaks of gray in it. “Sixty,” she ventured.

  He laughed. “Seventy-seven. I must be the only man my age who still has a six-pack.” He gave his stomach a light punch as he said this. “All my critics said the drugs and booze would kill me in my forties, but they’re lounging in nursing homes now while I’m still performing at sold-out stadiums.”

  Nora nodded, wondering if he wanted admiration from her, or simply validation. “What’s your secret?”

  “The music. It keeps me alive.” He smiled. “Pure artists are that way; the spirit of what we do sustains us, and food and water and alcohol are mere additives, not the fuel our body runs on. You probably know that, don’t you?”

  “My own body needs a lot of food to survive,” Nora laughed.

  “Ah, yes. But you’re an artist in the kitchen, or so one of my friends said. He had an orange chicken burger of yours and wouldn’t stop raving about it.”

  Nora smiled. “I’m rather proud of that one.”

  “But your purest artistry comes in another field, doesn’t it?” he asked. “That’s what I hired you for, honestly.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Nora’s eyes widened a little.

  “But we can’t talk about it here,” Seth said. “Let’s head over to the other building. The lobby’s far too crowded for my tastes.”

  *****

  Chapter 2

  The Special Birthday

  The building that housed the lobby was a few hundred feet from the building that housed the guest rooms. The two were separated by a merry river burbling across gray pebbles and solid rocks, with a pretty Japanese-style bridge stretching across it. On a normal day, Nora would have stopped to admire the view, but the weather didn’t allow it on this day. The rain was coming down in sheets, a continuous pour that seemed determined to flood the earth. The wind, on its part, was blowing so fiercely that any umbrella was rendered instantly useless. Nora found herself soaked and shivering by the time they’d reached the building and slammed the door shut behind them. Seth tossed his umbrella on the ground, and grunted in annoyance. “Terrible weather! I hope my guests can all make it tonight!”

  “Aren’t they here yet?” Nora asked, surprised. “I was under the impression you’d all be flying in together.”

  “Ridiculous. Why would we?” Seth sniffed. He tossed his voluminous hair back and forth like a dog, sending droplets of water over Nora. For a brief moment, Nora wondered if it was money or genetics that had helped him keep his mane even at seventy seven. Then, she asked, “If you don’t mind, would you elaborate on the reason you hired me? Ostensibly, it was to provide you the best birthday meal ever, but I gathered that it isn’t just about the food.”

  “Oh, it is about the food,” Seth replied with a sinister smile. “It’s very definitely about the food. This is a very special birthday for me.”

  “But you’ve kept me in the dark about the menu,” Nora said. “You told me to show up here and you’d provide the kitchen.”

  “Well, that’s because I had a very specific meal planned,” he replied.

  Nora hesitated. “As I mentioned in the emails, I’m not sure if—”

  “And as I mentioned in the emails, don’t worry. I won’t stick you with anything too complicated. Why, even a child could cook it!”

  “Well, then why did you go out of your way to hire me?” Nora asked. Try as she might to be excited about being hired by The Sultan, Nora had felt a thread of unease throughout their communications, and it had solidified now. Part of her wondered if she was walking into more trouble by staying on--and another part of her realized she had no choice. A man of his stature could probably destroy her entire career if he put his mind to it, and she wasn’t going to take that risk.

  Seth fixed his eyes on her, and Nora wondered how she could ever have thought of them as warm--they were as cunning as a fox’s, filled with calculation. Outside, there was a burst of thunder which made them both start. The calculation went out of Seth’s eyes, and as he smiled at Nora, they were warm and mischievous again.

  “I want to relive the glory days of my past,” he said. “That’s what this birthday is for. It’s not my family I’ve invited here. My guests are four people I’ve not talked to in twenty--or--maybe thirty years!”

  Despite herself, Nora was intrigued. “You haven’t talked to them in decades, and yet you’re choosing to celebrate your seventy -seventh with them, instead of your family? Why?”

  Seth looked sorrowful, his shoulders slumped a little. “I’ve got no family. My fans are the only family I've ever really had. Sure, I’ve been married four times. I even have a boy. At least, biologically, he’s my son. But… well… I’m alone. I don’t blame him. I spent his childhood on the road, so it isn’t fair to play dad now.”

  “I’m sure he’d welcome you if you tried to reconnect,” Nora said.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’m under a curse, you see. I’ve taken my time to think about it, and now I’m sure--twenty-five years of being under a curse. It all goes back to that one night.”

  “What night?” Nora asked.

  Before he could reply, the door cracked open behind them, and a woman entered. In her late sixties, she still had a better sense of fashion than Nora could ever dream of attaining. She wore a red leather jacket and black turtleneck sweater-dress underneath. Her hair stuck close to her head in a pixie cut, and sharp blue eyes looked out from under heavily hooded lids.

  “Seth.” Her eyes flicked over Nora and dismissed her entirely, focusing immediately on The Sultan. “Thirty years, and never a phone call from you. Why
this sudden summons to dinner?”

  “Lenu.” Seth swept forward, pushing Nora aside, and taking the woman’s hand, bowed ridiculously low before kissing it. “You look ravishing. Not a day older than thirty!”

  “False flattery never got you anywhere with me, and you know it,” the woman said.

  “Well, let me introduce you to our chef for the evening. Lenu, this is Nora Nathaniel. Nora, meet my third--and last--wife, Lenuccia Salvatore.”

  Lenu gave Nora a curt nod before turning back to Seth. “You’re lucky I came, you know. I had no reason to.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Seth said. “Yet, here you are.”

  “Here I am,” she said, nodding grimly. “All these years later you still know how to make me dance to your tunes. Why did you bring me here?”

  “We can discuss that later. For now, let me help you with those bags. Your room is on the second floor.”

  “Isn’t this place supposed to be a five star?” Lenuccia looked around. “I expected a few bellboys.”

  “It’s going to be empty all weekend, except for us five. I’ve paid them to make sure of it,” Seth said. In response to her raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “What can I say? I value my privacy. Let me get your bag.” He reached out for her Louis Vuitton duffel bag, and slung it effortlessly over his shoulder. Nora caught Lenu admiring his physique as he easily bounded up the stairs with the energy of a young athlete. She turned around and caught Nora looking. Pressing her lips together, she began ascending the stairs, and Nora followed.

  The building was a simple three-story structure. The ground floor had a kitchen, a small room, and a large room with a dining table and six chairs. The first floor had four rooms, two on each side, while the top floor had only one large suite and a game room.

  Seth had stopped at the right-most room, and was fiddling with the keys. He pushed the door open, and gestured to Lenu, inviting her in. Nora hung back awkwardly, but Seth exclaimed.

  “As a matter of fact, Lenu, I’ve a favor to ask of you. My young friend here is soaked. Do you think you’ve got some clothes she can borrow? The two of you look about the same size to me.”

  “Oh, no that’s not necessary,” Nora protested.

  Lenu glared at Seth for a long moment, holding eye contact, before sighing and shrugging. “As you wish. You’re clearly planning to drag this out forever. I’ll get changed, and give your friend some clothes; after that, my friend, you and I are going to have a long chat about what you emailed me.”

  “Sure, sure.” Seth smiled, quite the affable host now. “I’ll be downstairs fixing myself a drink. Anything you want?”

  “Bourbon, if you can find any,” she said.

  “Right away.” He gave her an exaggerated bow again, and stalked off, pausing only to pat Nora on the shoulder and push her toward Lenu.

  “It’s very kind of you to offer, but please don’t feel obligated,” Nora began, when Lenu cut her off.

  “You don’t know Seth like I do, my dear,” she said. “I told him I’d give you a change of clothes, so now I must. That’s all there is to it.” There was a resigned acceptance in her voice.

  “Why?” Nora asked. “I mean, why is he being so mysterious? He’s hired me as chef, but not told me anything about the menu. He’s bought out the entire Hotel Luxembourg so he can be alone with his guests...”

  Lenu raised her eyebrows and looked Nora in the eye. “If he’s hired you to do something, I suggest you do it to the best of your ability, and not think too much about whys and hows.”

  Nora flushed. She felt as though a duchess had put her in her place. Even if Lenu was Seth’s ex-wife, she clearly felt some loyalty towards him. Even if she knew what he was up to, she wasn’t telling.

  Lenu opened her bag, and ruffled around inside, before bringing out a striped black and white dress with capped sleeves and a navy belt around the waist. “That should probably fit,” she said. “Don’t bother giving it back. Consider it a gift. Perks of working with Seth.”

  “I can’t—” Nora tried to protest again, but a loud shout and the sound of crashes from downstairs interrupted her. She and Lenu looked at each other, then bolted out the door, rushing downstairs. By the time Nora got downstairs, the crashes had ceased, but the shouts continued. As she and Lenu rushed into the kitchen, they found a laughing Seth holding a man in a headlock. Nora’s eyes widened in shock as she recognized him. Who wouldn’t? Just like Seth, Victor James was a childhood icon. She’d even had a poster of him up in her room, with a toothpick sticking out from between his lips, shaggy hair covering his eyes, and an electric guitar in his hands. He was older now, with thin legs and a paunch, and his hair was neatly trimmed in a buzz cut, but she still recognized his face instantly.

  “Victor!” Lenu gasped. “Seth! Let him go at once! What’s going on?”

  “Just a little horseplay, that’s all.” Seth laughed, and shoved Victor away. “Victor here claims he has been lured under false pretenses.”

  “Bloody liar!” Victor yelled, and tried to get at Seth again.

  “Hold on, man,” Seth said. “Calm down. Take a breath.”

  “I’m getting out of here. I told you before, I don’t want to see your face again!” Victor exclaimed.

  “Then why are you here?” Lenu asked.

  “That lying agent of mine told me a top producer wanted to meet me!” Victor said. “All expenses paid! Of course I came out. Who wouldn’t? I open the door and what do I see? This smiling, smug—”

  “Your agent isn’t a liar, I am a top producer. You forget, I own Sultan Records now,” Seth said.

  “I don’t care if you own half of America, I’m not working with you ever again, Seth.”

  “No problem. That’s not why you’re here anyway,” Seth said.

  “So why am I here?”

  “Have a drink.” Seth handed him a fresh glass of whisky. “It’ll calm you down.”

  “I don’t want a drink, I want an explanation!” Victor exclaimed. He took Seth’s offered drink anyway, and gulped it down in two sips.

  “I’ll explain, as soon as our other guests arrive,” Seth said. As if on cue, the door swung open and two men tumbled inside, wet and shivering.

  “Ah. Here they are. The last of our little party.”

  “Yo, Seth. Everything good?” The first man, a broad hulk standing at least a foot above everyone else in the room. He ran a hand across his bald head, and looked down in distaste at his soggy sweater and jeans. “Gonna get changed up if you don’t mind.”

  The other man, Rafael, the only one among them who looked as though he were somewhat Nora’s age, shut the door carefully, and pushed their bags to the side, then turned and faced the room with a cheerful smile and nod.

  “Let me just introduce you,” Seth said. “Friends, these are--

  Martin Schwartz, Rafael Almeida?” Lenu had turned pale. “My God, you are as mad as I feared, Seth!”

  Victor, who was gripping the table to control himself from hitting Seth, now slumped forward in exhaustion. “Of course. It’s been exactly twenty-five years, hasn’t it? You think any of us have forgotten? I relive that night over and over again in my dreams.”

  Lenu moved forward, and put a comforting hand on Victor’s shoulders. “It’s alright, Victor--”

  “Are you trying to torture me?” Victor asked, his eyes wet, as he shoved his face up against Seth’s. “Ayla’s dead, Seth! Stop trying to bring her back to life!”

  *****

  Chapter 3

  Seth Explains

  The other four had retired to their rooms in an attempt to calm down. As for Nora, she’d managed to change into the dress Lenu had given her before wandering back into the kitchen. Would there even be a dinner? Victor had looked as though he was ready to bolt out almost immediately. It had taken Lenu a lot of convincing before he’d reluctantly agreed to even discuss staying. She was now speaking to him upstairs, convincing him to give Seth a chance.

  Seth, meanwhile, was sitting
at the dining table with a bottle of whisky in his hand, and crushed spikes of glass on the floor around him from where Victor had thrown down a crystal decanter. Unable to bear the mess, Nora gathered a broom from the closet and began sweeping it up.

  “Thanks,” Seth said casually. “I suppose you’ve got a lot of questions for me.”

  “Oh, about half a million,” Nora said. “Which, as I’ve learned, is what you’re paying each of these four guests to come attend dinner with you.”

  Seth grinned. “I can afford it. The money’s lying around doing nothing anyway.”

  “I don’t understand,” Nora said. “You’re Seth Sultan. The Seth Sultan. You can have anything you like. You don’t need to pay people to attend parties, you could snap your fingers and half a million people would come running to see you. Even now, you’re a powerful man in the music industry. Why are you doing any of this?”

  “Because there are some things that money and connections can’t buy you,” Seth said. “The truth, for one.”

  “What truth? Who’s Ayla?”

  “Sit.” Seth kicked out a chair, and motioned her with a hand.

  Obediently, Nora sat, though she didn’t touch the whiskey he poured out for her. “I want answers, or I’m bailing,” she said. “This whole thing is getting increasingly weird.”

  “Alright.” Seth nodded. “I’ll tell you everything, and then, you can decide if you want to stay or leave.”

  “Ok,” Nora agreed.

  “Well, as you might have guessed, it wasn’t your talent or status as head chef at a rinky-dink diner that made me hire you,” Seth said. “It was a little news article in The Star about your skills as a detective.”

  Nora sighed. “I guessed it was something like that as soon as you mentioned The Star. That article had a lot of hyperbole in it. I’m nowhere near the Sherlock they made me out to be. I just got lucky a few times.”

  “A few times? Quite a few times,” Seth said, shaking his head. “I read that article, then spoke to some of the people you helped out. Look, Nora, talent is a rare thing, and comes in all forms. I knew a man once who was the laziest son of a gun I have ever met, and yet nobody could mix a cocktail quite like he did. Another of my friends was a selfish, self-indulgent brat, but by gosh was he a natural at cracking jokes. Watching him in action was a thing of wonder; not a thing you could say that he couldn’t make into a hilarious quip. People are weird, and all of us have a natural calling. The calling isn’t always very practical, which is why most people don’t follow it. Not everyone can make a living as a Rubik’s Cube solver, can they? Most people don’t even know they have that talent, I think. Like you. You probably never knew you had this knack inside you until the time came, and then, you let it flourish.”