Milo ...Test

         By Pattie Lawler

 

            The dinning room was floor to ceiling windows on two sides. The longer side gave access to the patio, and the shorter side offered dramatic views across the city. It was Milo’s favorite room and the main reason he purchased the building more than a decade ago. Originally the suite’s office, he had wanted to share the room rather than horde it and though the penthouse had been remodeled several times and faced another, this room remained the dinning room.

            His forehead pressed to the cold glass, Milo looked down the building to the bustling street below. A new internal battle had replaced the old, familiar one and he was deeply involved with a skirmish when Albany laid her cheek on his back and wrapped her arms around his waist.

            “You have to leave and don’t know how to tell me.”

            “You can tell that from my back?”

            “And Fanny’s brooding.”

            “She can tell that from my back?”

            Albany nodded against him. “You’re as transparent as glass to us both.”

            “And does my back tell you that I’m desperate to stay?”

            “Yes. But your back hasn’t spoken to mine or Fanny’s. If it had, it would know that we’ll be right here, waiting for your return.”

            “But I might miss something really good! And I can’t decide if I’m more jealous of you for being with Fanny, or Fanny for being with you. I can’t sleep without you, you know, and about a million other complaints that are desperate to get out.”

            “Sweet talker.”

            He turned in her arms, hugged her tight and leaned against the glass.

            “Um, no,” Albany drew back. “It’s just too freaky, you leaning on what looks like thin air.”

            Milo laughed and moved as requested. “Fanny agrees with you. She says I do it to make sure her hair stays gray.”

            “That’s some genetic throwback she’s got there.”

            “Neat, huh?”

            Albany took his hand and drew him to the living room. “It’s almost a good thing you didn’t send her to school. Saved her a lot of teasing, I’m sure.”

            He looked bemused. “Teasing? Because of her hair?”

            Albany scowled at him, but then laughed. “You’re such a guy. So tell me, where are you going?”

            “That depends. If it’s somewhere you’ve been dying to go, will you come with me?”

            “Don’t tease, Milo. I can’t and you know it. And besides, it’s only another eight weeks.”

            “Only.”

            “And then you have to go with me to Tokyo.”

            “I remember.”

            They arrived at the fireplace, and Albany knelt, tugging him down. “I’m changing voice coaches. Now that I’m obscenely rich, I can afford a better one, and she’ll be training me for the album.”

            He grinning at her and slowly joined her on the floor. “Excited?”

            She smiled, nodding. “I’ve never been to Tokyo when I wasn’t shackled to the company.”

            “Did you get Lacey to leave you free time after recording?”

            “Yes. If that’s alright?”

            He snorted, and she laughed, dropping against him. “Now tell me where you’re going and why.”

            “I’m going,” he heaved a sigh, “to the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek in Vienna.”

            “Poor baby!”

            “Yes, I know. Sucks, huh?”

            “What for?”

            “That’s just it. If it wasn’t so interesting, I’d pass, believe me. But the curator has received an anonymous donation of a vellum talisman that I’d like me to look at.”

            “Oh?”

            He nodded. “There’s a medieval manuscript, now called the Cathach, that was once carried into battle as a protective charm. While it survived, we don’t know what happened to the owner. However, it spawned a fad, and we call these battlers. Think of it as a lucky charm made out of paper with a history.”

            “What do you consider paper with a history?”

            “Part of a bible or prayer book, or something that was in contact with a relic, that sort of thing.”

            “And what’s so special about this one?”

            “The vellum appears to be demon skin.”

            Albany sat up, turning to look at him. “Seriously? That's horrible! You poor thing. Having to go examine that.” To her knowing eye, everything about him relaxed, and he sighed his thanks. She snuggled closer. “When do you leave?”

            “Well...actually...that’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

            She waited.

            “I was thinking of buying a jet. I’ll hire someone to take care of the minutia so Joe doesn’t have to.” He looked at her expectantly, and the minute stretched on.

            “Are you hoping for my approval?”

            “Well, it is a big purchase.” She opened her mouth, and then closed it. He nodded to her unuttered observation. “And it is our money.”

            “And you are a billionaire.”

            “Yes, yes.”

            “Do you really think I’m going to be touring that much?”

            “I’m willing to purchase the dreaded plane, I’m so certain.”

            She was thoughtful for a second, and then smiled. “How can I refuse?”

 <0> 

            Milo checked his messages while Simon checked the suite. They were staying at the Ambassador, which was not part of the Condé Nast chain, so Simon was being extra cautious.

            “I have an invitation to dinner tonight,” Milo murmured, looking at his watch as Simon moved from the bathroom to the office.

            “With whom?”

            “Vivian Fabrice. Remember her?”

            “Who could forget?”

            Milo chuckled and set the message aside. “I think I’ll accept.”

            “Oh?”

            “It’ll be like a test.”

            “For her or you?”

            “Me.”

            Simon was suddenly framed in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. “And if you fail?”

            “I won’t.” His tone was glib as he picked up the next message. “I’m expected at the museum tomorrow at noon. Seems they’re planning on feeding me before I get to work.”

            Simon shook his head as he returned to his task. “Then I’ll assume you’ll be here an extra day.”

            Milo smiled as he crumpled up the several messages. “I think we’re just show up a little early.”

            “Work first?”

            “Exactly.” He pushed himself upright. “Time for a shower before dinner.”

            “Where will you be dining?”

            “Downstairs. The sushi bar, I think. I’m too tired for traveling, as I’m sure you are, too. No. We’ll make it easy on ourselves since we’ll be up early.”

<0> 

            It took Milo less than a second to find his date. The tumble of honey-colored hair glowed like a halo and naturally drew the eye. Vivian was dressed to impress in a tiny, scarlet dress that displayed her considerable charms to plenty of eager gawkers. Genuinely flattered by what had to be a conscious color choice, Milo offered a hand to help her down from the bar stool to the sound of his father's voice, thundering through his head.

            “When Macy’s wants to sell something, they put it in the front window!”

            It was the only advice his father had ever offered him with regards to women, and Milo decided it was never more true than now as he bent to kiss her cheek. It took a great deal of willpower to avoid looking down her dress. Having survived this first test, however, he felt both empowered and disappointed with himself for the momentary struggle.

            Grow up, he chided himself as he straightened. “You look fabulous, Vivian.”

            She positively glowed as she smiled up at him. “Ah, thank you, Milo. I hoped you would notice.”

            “I’m sure I’m not the only one.” He swept a hand out for her to precede him. “Shall we?”

            Vivian caught his arm, linking hers through his as he guided her from the lounge to the elevator. It was a proprietary gesture, and Milo suffered another bout of mental scolding. Perhaps, he concluded, this little test wasn’t such a good idea after all.

            The majordomo met them at the elevator door, waited while they removed their shoes, and silently conducted them to a private room. Simon stood beside the door and nodded to Milo as he passed. Vivian smiled up at the bodyguard, whispered a greeting, and hurried into the room.

            Milo helped her settle on a cushion before joining her on the floor. “How did you come to be attached to the Albertina?” he asked as a kimono-clad waitress bowed into the room and placed several bowls and two bottles of sake upon the table.

            Vivian snatched up the bottle closest to Milo with a smile and murmured an offer to pour for him. “It was time to move on, is all. The collection at the Kunsthalle was too familiar. I needed a challenge. Something new to look at.”

            For some reason, he knew she was lying.

            “So you’re happier at Albertina?”

            She waited while he drank and when he held the small cup out again, she shrugged. “For now.”

            Deciding that keeping his sleepy wits would be easier on little alcohol, he set the cup down and picked up a menu. Vivian followed his example, and while they weighed the merits of various fishes, they spoke of mutual acquaintances and notable acquisitions. Finally, Milo summoned the waitress, placed their order, and tried to relax.

            “I’m guessing you’re here on business,” Vivian said, peeling herself an edamame.

            He nodded. “Putting a date to a document. Nothing interesting.”

            “And nothing to keep you at home?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “And how is Fanny? She must be quite the young lady by now.”

            A fond smile split his face. “She truly is. It’s been an unrivaled pleasure to watch her grow.”

            “Please remember me to her when you’re home.”

            “I will. And what of you? What’s happening in your world?”

            “Practically nothing, since you left.” Her gaze dropped, and she toyed with her napkin. “You’re a hard act to follow.”

            “You’re sweet to say so, but I have to be frank; you left me with the impression that you were happy to be rid of me.”

            “If I did, that was my mistake.”

            How he wanted to believe her. But he could still see her face, nine years younger and twisted with annoyance; could still hear the lies. Suddenly, he could see right through her and with this clarity came ennui and exhaustion. He threw caution to the wind in favor of an extra hour of sleep.

            “I’m sorry for you, Vivian.” Her head snapped up, and she blinked at him. Milo nodded. “Very sorry. You’re putting on this act, you’ve gone to such pains, and I know you’re lying.”

            “What?”

            He continued to nod. “It’s been nine years, and you haven’t changed at all.”

            Tears swelled in her eyes. “You’re right, Milo. In nine years I never stopped loving you.”

            “No. You never stopped loving my money.”

            “That’s not true!”

            “Isn’t it?” He put his arm out and pulled his glove down an inch, exposing a scar. “Do you know how I got this?”

            She shook her head.

            “My fiancée does.”

            Vivian paled, rocking back, but just as quickly her eyes narrowed. “Because you told her.”

            “Because she thought to ask. There isn’t an inch of my body that she hasn’t explored because knowing me gives her pleasure. And it’s a pleasure that you never developed, or I never thought to cultivate.

            “Not that I’m saying you’re entirely to blame. I’m even willing to take on seventy-five percent of the blame, but we were happy when I was buying you things. You were getting what you wanted from me, and I was learning what to expect from my future spouse. Only...things changed.”

            Images of Albany filled his mind and swelled his heart.

            “I got lucky, Vivian. Luckier than I ever dreamt I could be.” The truth of this statement hit home, and he was suddenly desperate to talk to Albany. “In fact, I’m going.” He rose. “I’m sorry. Truly. And I hope you find someone who will love you the way she loves me. There are no words to describe the feeling.”

            Vivian laughed, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. “Stay and eat, Milo. I’ll go. I see I can’t win. In fact, I’m rather ashamed of myself and more than a little jealous.” She stood and put her hand out. “Thank you for accepting my invitation. My evening didn’t turn out as planned, but I can’t say I’m sorry. I wish you both every happiness.”

            Milo lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Thank you, Vivian. I wish the same for you.”

            He stepped back as she fled the room, and when Simon looked around the edge of the door, the bodyguard was grinning.

            “Go call Ms. Wendel, and I’ll have them send the food up to the room.”

            “You read my mind.”

 <0>

            He was more than a little surprised when Fanny answered Albany’s phone.

            “Where’s Albany?”

            He could hear the barely suppressed excitement in Fanny’s voice.

            “She’s on stage, rehearsing, and I’m on the mixing board with Frank, helping! Listen!”

            For a second he was buffeted by sound, and then it resolved himself into the sweetest sound he knew.

            Albany was singing.

            Milo lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

            “Isn’t she wonderful?” Fanny gushed.

            “Yes, Fan. She is.”  

 

Previous   Home    Next