Milo...Masks

                By Pattie Lawler   

 

 

            Milo looked at everything as he awaited Albany’s arrival. She had been very insistent about the time, but had called to say she was delayed; for mere moments, she hastily assured him. She asked him to order her a drink and promised to make it up to him. Milo didn’t mind that she was late. It gave him a moment to explore the café.

            Dark and smoky was his general impression. When the waitress arrived carrying a water pipe, he smiled and accepted while ordering their drinks. Lights began to glow across the room, gradually illuminating a small stage. A man in a black suit emerged from the glow, set a candle atop a pair of electric keyboards and began fussing with switches and volume.

            The lights dimmed as the music began in earnest. The synthesizer was joined by another musician on an electric drum set so loud that it made Milo’s heart pound. A golden spotlight grew on the stage, encompassing a pair of dancers in full belly dance kit. He felt himself smiling as the throbbing music swelled and the dancers expertly dropped their hips to the rhythm. The women faced one another, forming a doorway as Albany’s sultry voice filled the room.

            “I put a spell on you...”

            Milo’s jaw dropped as she emerged, mike in hand, from the darkness between the dancers, her eyes locked on him.

            “...’cause you’re mine.”

            Dressed in a skintight gown of gold sequins, she seemed to glide to the edge of the stage while the dancers writhed on either side.

            He grinned, knowing the joke was on him.

            Sitting back, he pushed his hands into his pant pockets, stretched out, and met her appraising gaze with open invitation.

            Albany’s smile was in her eyes as the lyrics bemoaned his infidelity. The song challenged her range with its depth but to Milo’s ears it was beyond sexy. The pounding in his chest crept lower as her wanton gaze roamed over him. For a time she was silent and the two musicians sang. During the interlude, Albany’s arms snaked over her head, her hips moving with the music.

            From behind Milo, a man strode to the stage and threw a wad of money over Albany’s head. Though she didn’t look up from her dance, she smiled in acknowledgement as the bills rained around her.

            Milo’s smile grew as more men came forward to show their appreciation. The last one lingered when Albany reached for him, and she allowed him to help her down off the stage. Once free, she slinked to Milo, never missing a beat in her song or the dance.

            “I love you, ana uhibbuk, I love you anyhow and I don’t care if you don’t want me, I’m yours, right now...”

            She lowered herself onto his lap as the song reached its conclusion.

            “I put a spell on you, because you’re mine.”

            The echoing applause made her rise for a bow, her thumb switching off the mike as she sank back and reached for her drink.

            “Is this a breach of contract?” Milo asked with a grin, pointing to the dusting of money before the stage.

            “Only if I collect it. Suhalia and Fatima are welcome to it. They earned it.”

            While she drank, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “That was an incredible surprise: thank you very much. I’ll remember to bring cash when next you ask me to meet you in a café.”

            “The look on your face was exactly what I wanted. Thank you.” She kissed him, setting her empty glass on the table. “Would you like dinner?”

            “You’re done?” He looked toward the stage, his expression affronted.

            She leaned away, feigning shock. “You want more?”

            Grinning, he pulled her back, hugging her tight. “Your voice is the best aphrodisiac on the planet. I’d listen to you sing War and Peace.”

            She grew still and her eyes bore into his. “Thank you, Milo.”

            “I love you, Albany.”

            “Even if I’m nothing more than a glorified showgirl?”

            He sobered, considering. “Hmm. I understand what you’re suggesting, but I’ve never viewed you in that light. So, yes. I love you Albany, and I would love you if you were washing dishes in an all-night diner. I love you, not your job or your perceived position in the social stratus.”

            She ducked her head, tucking herself under his chin. “How did I get so lucky?”

            “Not so hasty, my love.”

            Funny, she thought, I’m getting better at recognizing the signs. “You’re leaving.”

            He nodded. “I’m sorry. Business.”

            “When?” She caught his wrist, pulling the suit’s sleeve back enough to see his watch. It was almost six. Most commercial flights left before eight.

            “As soon as we’ve eaten.” He smiled, pushing her to her feet. “I promise to be back for the Mardi Gras ball on your schedule. Will that do?”

            Ten days from tonight. Forcing any more bitter thoughts from her mind, she smiled and took her seat across from him. “I look forward to it.”

            “I’ll see if I can drag Fanny along.” He motioned to the hostess who hurried over with menus.

            “That would be wonderful.”

 <0>

 

            The masked ball was well underway when Albany began looking for Milo. He said he would be late, but didn’t specify a time. Her mind full of the trick she played on him at the café, she suspected he had already arrived and was biding his time. Several men approached her, each sporting full-face masks and gloves, but she rejected them outright. She passed her time sipping champagne and searching for a man dressed as Will Scarlet.

            Her own costume was designed to capture Milo’s attention.

            She was dressed in a powder-blue confection, circa 1780, with uncomfortable panniers holding the skirts out on either side. On her head was a tri-corner hat, drawn low over an eye and she held a gilded, three-quarter face mask on an ornate stick before her face. The mask displayed only her lips, Milo’s favorite feature, to questing eyes.

            Arrayed as the Comtesse de la Motte, the costume was completed by a borrowed copy of the necklace the comtesse had schemed to accuse Queen Marie Antoinette of stealing. The very necklace whose diamonds Milo was trying to collect. It amused her no end how many women pointed and cooed whenever she lowered her fan enough to display the ponderous creation.

            Wandering the crowd, skirting the dancers, she made for a group of squealing women in the throes of admiring a man they had corralled. Intrigued by flashes of scarlet within the heart of the circle, Albany moved closer, placing her champagne flute on a passing waiter’s tray. Snapping open her fan, she hid the necklace from view.

            The man in question was straight out of Phantom, dressed as the Mask of the Red Death, and sporting the full-face, skull mask. His height and physique were spot on so she stepped back, watching his movements. The only mannerism she could call to mind for Milo was his habit of adjusting his gloves when he wanted a distraction; a man devoid of nervous ticks.

            It suddenly struck her how cool Milo was.

            The few times she leveled startling news at him, his only discernable reaction had been known to her owing to physical contact. She thought of their conversation regarding Raul’s dislike of him, and smiled, her eyes rising.

            To meet the shining black gaze of a man dressed as a highwayman on the landing of the stairs.

            In her ears, her gasp of surprise as her body became both weightless and leaden was as loud as thunder. The idea that she wouldn’t know him owing to a mask was instantly rendered absurd.

            Milo was posing for several women with cameras. Both pistols were drawn, one aimed at a camera, one lazing on his shoulder, but he was looking at her. Watching her. His expression told her he had been for some time. Had he ruined her surprise?

            Commanding his attention with her eyes, she lowered the fan.

            His gaze followed her motion and the smile on his lips became a knowing smirk.

            After extracting himself from his admirers, he holstered his guns and swung his cape over his arm. Waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, Albany watched his slow descent.

            That he was offering her a show was evident, but she was convinced that the light in her eyes told him she appreciated the view. The entire costume, with the exception of the mask, appeared to be made of black leather; from the thigh-high caviler boots, to the tri-corner hat.   

            “Nice necklace,” he drawled as he came to stand over her.

            “You don’t think it’s too much?”

            “No. In fact, I wouldn’t mind owning one myself.”

            She shrugged, lowering her mask. “I know a guy.”

            Milo softly snorted, bending toward her. “I’m a highwayman.”

            “Myself and the female quotient of the party couldn’t help but notice.”

            “Point being, highwaymen don’t need connections.” He pulled one of the pistols from his belt.

            Her smile grew. “Say it,” she whispered.

            He pressed the barrel to her waist and smoothed a finger under one of the diamond tassels. “Stand and deliver.”

            She stepped closer. “Make my night and tell me you own what you’re wearing.”

            “I borrowed the pistols.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind. And the sword?”

            “That’s mine. There’s something else you need to know.”

            “Oh?”

            “We’re not alone.”

            She cocked her head.

            “I’m late because Fanny’s flight was delayed.” He twisted, pointing with the pistol to the mezzanine, where it wasn’t hard to find his niece and bodyguard.

            They were dressed as pirates.

            “As you already know, my lineage is more than a colorful surname. Likewise, Fanny’s family isn’t devoid of celebrities. In her not too distant past was one Samuel Bellamy, a.k.a. Black Sam. Ironically, he was a kind of Robin Hood of the seas with the title Prince of Pirates, as opposed to the Prince of Thieves. His crew even called themselves Robin Hood’s Band. So, the basis of Fanny’s fortune—”

            “Was stolen?”

            He smirked. “Runs in the family.”

            “On both sides.” She kissed his chin. “Shall we join them?”

            He put the pistol away and offered her his arm. “May I escort you, Comtesse?”

            “I knew you’d know who I am. Everyone keeps assuming I’m Marie.”

            “Well, either way, you look incredible.”

            She smiled up at him. “You too. I’m enjoying dressing you up.”

            “Your own life-sized paper doll?”

            “I love you, Milo.”

 <0> 

            Fanny was thrilled to see them, but as they decided to peruse the buffet, she caught Albany’s hand.

            “I have to go to the ladies room,” she whispered.

            Never one to miss a cue, Albany offered to accompany her. “We’ll be back.”

            “We’ll find a table.”

            “What find?” Albany laughed over her shoulder. “Embrace your role, highwayman!”

            Fanny’s hand in hers tightened. “Albany. I feel...funny.”

<0>  

            Albany found Simon before Milo. She hurried to the table he was guarding and discovered Milo lounging. He rose as she arrived, his smile evaporating.

            “Where’s Fanny?”

            “I left her in the lobby. Don’t panic, she’ll be fine. But that reason you wanted me around...” She met his gaze. “I think we should take her home.”

            Milo didn’t need to be told twice. “Do we need to stop on the way?”

            “No,” Albany caught his hand. “But I will be spending the day with her tomorrow. I promised. We’ll see if you’re welcome and play it by ear.”

 <0>            

            The hour had passed two when Albany slipped from Fanny’s room. She paused to let Simon know Fanny was asleep and joined Milo on the floor before the fireplace.

            He had the paste necklace arranged on a pillow and was running a gloved finger along one of the ribbons, smoothing it into line.

            “Where did you get this?” He didn’t look up.

            “I borrowed it from the production company that made the movie a few years ago.”

            “Do you think they would sell it to me?”

            She laughed, bending over. “I haven’t tried it out yet.”

            “Hmm?”

            Scooping the necklace off the pillow and ignoring his complaints, she commanded him to wait until called.

            In the master suite she stripped to nothing but her stockings and satin pumps before tying the necklace tight about her throat and summoning Milo.

 <0> 

            “We need to talk, Milo.”

            “That sounds serious.”

            Albany nodded, clasping her hands behind his neck. “Owing to several...well, actually, no. Owing to you, I’ve made a decision about my contract. I spoke with my agent and my lawyer, and I’ve decided to go free agent.”

            She wasn’t surprised to feel him stiffen, but remain silent. Nodding again, she hurried on.

            “When I sang for you at the café, after you left, I stopped on the Lower Eastside on my way home, where the restaurant overrun district is, and bought myself four dozen plates. I made the taxi driver wait while I smashed each one in the nearest dumpster.”

            Milo erupted with laughter.

            Laughing along with him, she continued to nod. “I called you every name in the book, Milo Scarlet, knowing all the while you weren’t to blame. It was my fault I wasn’t going to England with you. And I knew it. I just couldn’t admit it. I was too angry.” She drew back to meet his eyes. “If I had met you even a month earlier, none of this would have been an issue. I would have already re-upped and would be facing another three years of having to say goodbye.”

            “I don’t want you to say goodbye, Albany. I want you to say yes.”

            “On one condition.”

            “Make it a good one.”

            “Fanny gets to pick the dress.”

 

 

End volume one.......

 

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