It's a corner unit and I had to have specially installed blackout curtains just so I could sleep in the mornings. I'm above the cloud cover, deep within it, and it's generally the case almost every time I'm here. This building is too tall.
I don't like this place. I don't like the fact that it doesn't have room service and I don't like the empty refrigerator that has to stay empty because I'm never here long enough to fill it up.
It's not that I particularly love being catered to, it's more that it makes me feel like I have a place I belong. I can go down to the lobby, I can chitchat with the front staff. I can meet someone at a bar.
There's a gym and a pool and a restaurant downstairs. The restaurant is undergoing some renovations and hasn't been open for a while.
I plop down on the bed, dress clothes and all, and consider my options for the evening.
I could go out on the town, a club maybe, call a few friends, none who are probably available on such short notice, but at least I can give it a try.
Or I could go to Redemption.
Hmm, now there's an idea.
I feel my eyebrow rising, even considering the concept. The last time I was there, wasn't particularly great, but I'm tempted to give it another shot.
Jacqueline has been haunting me a little bit less and less as I've been trying to put her out of my mind.
What if I were to just go, get really drunk, and not really pay attention to who I meet in the dark?
22
Jacqueline
I see him from across the room. He walks in, broad shoulders, casual gray suit, no tie, starched white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, tan olive skin, looks good in the faint light.
He grabs a drink at the bar and then assesses the room. I'm sitting all the way in the corner, shrouded in darkness. He won't be able to see me unless he walks all the way over here.
My heart skips a beat when I see him.
He's here, he's here, I say excitedly to myself, but he doesn't know that I am here, and suddenly everything sinks to the pit of my stomach.
Dante’s here to pick up someone else.
He's not here for me, of course not.
Why would he be? I feel like a fool, and that's just fine.
I'm used to feeling this way around guys, but something about him ... Suddenly, I feel nauseated.
I watch him walk around the room.
First, he swivels on the chair to survey the perimeter. He looks at faces. He watches bodies. He assesses his options, and then he moves casually to the lounge, walking slowly enough to start up a conversation with someone, but not pausing for anyone in particular.
And then, almost as if he knows that I'm here, he narrows his gaze on my section of the room, the corner that I was so certain that he wouldn't be able to see me in.
"Jacqueline," he says, walking up to me.
I sit up in my seat and he sits down. I don't invite him.
"It's nice to see you again."
I give him a slight nod, but say nothing.
He takes a sip of his whiskey, swirls the amber colored liquid at the bottom of his glass, and then looks up at me again.
"I was hoping I'd see you here."
With my gold mask on my lap, I feel exposed, but in a good way.
"I thought that we weren't supposed to know who we are," I say, pointing to the mask in his hand.
He shrugs. "I don't see you hiding."
"Well, I am in the corner, some would argue the opposite."
"I can leave if you want," he says, his eyes laser-focused on mine.
He waits for me to answer, and finally I manage to mumble, "No, it's fine."
I have looked for him here and I've thought about him so much, but then to suddenly see him before me, present and interested, caught me off guard.
Music starts to thump louder on the dance floor and I glance over at the bodies pressing and grinding against each other. Somewhere in that mosh pit is Allison, looking for her couple.
She promised me that she would be my wing woman and she’d abandoned me as quickly as she could.
We watch everyone dance, and at the end of the song, Cassandra comes to the microphone. Her voice is as smooth as ever and she announces that the Masquerade Ball festivities will be starting soon. I have no idea what this means and I'm a little scared to find out, and that fear, it's not entirely excitement. It's real fear.
Dante continues to sit next to me, observing the room, but saying nothing and not even trying to make conversation, and suddenly I feel very comfortable in the silence. It's relaxing and it makes my anxiety diminish just a little bit.
The tone of the light changes and people part down the middle. Cassandra, in her long flowing white gown hugging tightly around her hips and giving her the curvy figure of a 1950s movie star, stands in the front and says, "We're going to play a little game."
The excited crowd lets out thunderous, ferocious yelps, and Cassandra licks her bright red lips in anticipation.
"You have all been assigned numbers and when we call your number, please come to the stage."
I force myself further into the corner. I hold my number so tightly, the little piece of paper that it’s on shrivels up into a scrap.
Suddenly, I get the feeling that the person who is least excited to be up there on stage is probably the one that's going to be chosen.
"2, 17, 33, 46," Cassandra reads out, holding a card in her hand.
The crowd breaks into applause and separates to let the people walk to the stage.
I see Allison in the crowd, right in front, and our eyes meet.
She waves me over.
I shake my head no.
"That's my friend," I tell Dante. "She's very excited to be here."
"Yeah, I can see that," he says, without making a move.
"Aren't you going to go up there for a better look?"
"Nope.” He shakes his head. "This is the only view I need."
He stares at me in a disarming kind of way. The stare becomes impossible to bear and I look away, but I still feel it on me.
It throws my body into a flash of heat.
When Cassandra lifts her finger and her diamond necklace moves slightly, framing perfect breasts just so, the room quiets down and the people on the stage turn to look at the audience.
The guys seem more nervous than the girls, who look like they can't wait to get started.
Cassandra walks over with a box of cards. "Pull one out," she instructs, "and read what it says."
A big, voluptuous woman, tall with broad shoulders and an enormous blonde hairstyle, eagerly puts her hand inside. She pulls out a card and reads and screeches in excitement.
"What does it say?" Cassandra asks.
Silence falls.
"Take off a piece of clothing,” the woman reads, her lips quivering.
“Can I take it off anyone up here?” she asks Cassandra.
"Yes, if they're willing.”
Everyone nods in approval.
The woman walks back and forth, trying to decide, eventually settling on a slim redhead with A cups and bright, wide eyes. She walks around and unzips her floor-length gown and lets it fall to the floor. All that's left are panties and a bra.
The room cheers and the redhead blushes from a little bit of embarrassment, but then she spreads her legs out wide, puts her hands on her hips and walks around, showing them her curves. She even turns away from the crowd, bends over to show off her butt cheeks in the thong.