Deep Midnight
Page 12

“You know, Jared, one of the cops came into the costume shop today and said that I wasn’t an idiot.
Bad things can happen anywhere.”
“But you went so wild against the contessa. You don’t know who she is. You don’t understand?”
“I understand who she is, Jared, and what she means to you.”
“No,” he said. For that moment, he sounded truly miserable. “No, you really don’t understand. You don’t know who she is ...”
“I’m going to have fun, and I’m not going to think about your contessa. I’ll avoid her all night.”
“It’s unlikely that she’d come to this,” he said.
“Too common for her?”
“She doesn’t like this much of a crowd.”
“Well, then, we’ll be fine, won’t we?”
She was startled when he suddenly hugged her to him. “Yes, we’ll be fine. But Jordan, please, please, for me .. .”
“I won’t go around saying bad things about the contessa or her party. I’ll simply tell people, if I’m asked, that I’m afraid it was a bit macabre for me.”
He nodded, relieved. Cindy walked up, pleased to see them getting along so well. “We’re almost there.
The tent is in the square up ahead. Jordan, they had such great entertainment last year. The dancers . . .
they’re exquisite.”
“Do they cut each other up?” she asked, then wished she could bite her tongue.
Cindy laughed?the sound just a little uneasy. “No ... they’re sexy. Erotic. They’ve practically nothing on and nearly perfect bodies ... you’ll see. Ah, there, look at the crowd.” They had arrived at the square. Dozens of people were in line, handing their tickets for the event to the jester waiting at the entrance. His face was painted black and white. Jordan stared at the man carefully.
She’d never seen him before.
Within the large tent, there were tables set around a stage. At the moment, a group was playing Italian classics with a rock twist. Jared suggested they find a table while he went for drinks.
As they searched for empty spaces, they were approached by a masked queen in an elaborate velvet costume that shimmered with glittery iridescence.
“Hello, hello!”
“Raphael?” Jordan said incredulously.
He laughed with pleasure. “Si, si?come, we’ve a table over here. Cindy, ciao, bella, viene, yes?”
“Jared is coming,” Cindy said. “He’s getting drinks?”
“Fine, fine. We have wine for the table, too, and seats for you all.” Raphael slipped an arm through Jordan’s leading them to the table. Anna Maria, stunning in a slinky Egyptian costume, complete with extraordinary headgear and lifelike asp, jumped up to greet them. Lynn, apparently dressed as a biblical fig fantasy, rose as well, kissing Jordan on both cheeks, then greeting Cindy. There were others there from the shop, all greeting them, and a number of the shop’s clients and merchandisers, including Justine, the cute young French girl who designed Jordan’s boots, and a couple from Wales who dealt strictly in leather. It was difficult to talk over the music; and there were a wide array of languages being spoken. Before Jared even returned with their drinks, Jordan found herself out on the dance floor with a sixteenth-century cavalier.
As other couples passed them, she realized that she was being whispered about. She breathed a sigh of relief when a pretty young woman, obviously American, tapped her on the arm. “Excuse me, but that costume is fantastic! Where did you get it?”
Swinging beneath the cavalier’s arm, Jordan was pleased to be able to tell her. “It’s the most marvelous shop?”
“I’ll be visiting them tomorrow.”
A moment later, Raphael, heedless of the fact that he was an elegant queen, was cutting in on the cavalier. “Allora! Do I know my costumes! Everyone has asked about you, and the costume, and the shop. Now, are you pleased?”
“I am having a tremendous amount of fun.”
“You’ll have more fun if you come drink your champagne.” He led her back to the table, producing a plastic flute for her. She had barely touched it when the band started playing an old Rolling Stones tune.
“Come, come, salute! I love this song!”
She gulped the champagne, and found herself back on the dance floor.
An hour later, she had talked to dozens of people. She had walked around with Raphael to see some of the art displayed on the tent walls. She’d danced, she’d watched the first entertainment?a pianist with a delicately perfect woman on top of his baby grand, affixed to a tall glittering pole as if she were part of a music box. She was dressed in ruffly white and pink and carried a parasol, and her movements were as perfect as if she were indeed a wind-up doll. Jordan applauded strenuously, smiling as Raphael wolf-whistled by her side.
The master of ceremonies spoke, announcing the band again. Jared appeared, minus his mask now, asking Raphael if he could steal his cousin away for a minute. He seemed easy and relaxed, and Jordan smiled at him as the band switched to swing music. She had learned to dance to it from Jared and Cindy years ago, when they had first taken up ballroom dancing.
“Having fun?” he asked her.
“Yes, thank you, and you?”
His smile deepened. “Yeah, I am. A lot of fun. It’s . . . just a good time.”
“A very good time.”
“I’m sorry, Jordan.”
“And I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way, Jared. I won’t say anything more, but .. . your contessa is weird.”
“The contessa is?different.”
“I won’t say anything else unless a corpse lands at my feet.”
“Jordan?”
“Jared.” She frowned suddenly. “I know you think that I’m just.. . like gun-shy. But I do know?”
“Sh. Let’s forget it. It’s a party. And I’m sorry about insulting your costume. You’re too sexy. As your older male relative, I’m supposed to object.”
Before she could reply, Raphael cut in on them. He carried flutes of champagne for himself and Jordan.
“I’m so sorry, you must go get your own and dance with your wife!” he told Jared. “The next song is a slow one?an Italian version of Elvis Presley!”
“Now I have to take orders from you?” Jared teased.
“Yes, tonight I’m a royal queen. And I dance very well. You?you are so-so. The queen demands the lady in red vinyl. You get out of here!”
Jared winked at Jordan and went off in search of Cindy. Jordan watched him go, smiling, glad. He seemed to be the cousin she knew and loved again.
“Salute!” Raphael said.
She swallowed the champagne as he did. Her head suddenly seemed to spin. “Whoa! How much of this have we had?”
“At the table?” he inquired, then offered her a shrug, then a smile. “Molto, molto! This is a party! And are we driving home? No! That is the wonder of Venice.” He began to sing along with the strangely accented version of the Presley tune. Then he suddenly broke away from her. “Vinyl! It feels as if you are a thousand degrees. Do you wish to sit?”
She hadn’t realized it, but she was very hot. She gave him a smile of thanks. He led her back to the table as the master of ceremonies announced the next entertainment and the room went dark except for a spotlight in the middle of the floor.
Her chair faced the stage. She slipped off her mask, smoothing the dampness from her cheeks and fluffing her hair as she watched a beautiful and perfectly formed young woman walk out on the stage. Her costume was neon blue and almost completely sheer. Her hair was long and as dark as pitch. A nylon cord dangled suddenly from the roof. Slowly, sensually, the young woman approached the cord. She caught it and climbed higher with sleek agility. She wrapped the cord around an ankle, and to the soft music of flute and violin, she went into a series of poses that were nimble and all but impossible; she appeared as limber as a length of nylon herself, and her performance was spellbinding.
She held a pose, and the music darkened. A young man appeared on the stage, wearing a similar costume of neon gold. He too captured the cord, joined her, and created pose after pose on the wire, their bodies creating almost unearthly visions. Then they came down to the floor together and began a rhythmic, acrobatic dance. The music and the performance softened to a compelling sensuality. The performers’ movements were kept from being graphic by their consummate grace and beauty. A spellbound hush fell over the audience. No napkins crumpled; no chairs shuffled.
Jordan found herself as transfixed at the others, yet somewhere in the entertainment, she became aware of a presence behind her, like a whisper in the darkness. She started to turn, and realized that Ragnor was now in the chair at her side. The chair was drawn close to her. His eyes were on the dancers, but he knew that she had noted his presence.
“Quite incredible, aren’t they?” he murmured. He didn’t seem to shift, yet he seemed to be even closer.
She was sure that his words were heard only by her. He spoke softly; his tone seemed deep. A touch of warmth seemed to drift down her nape, as if she were caressed by his breath. “The capabilities of the human mind and body are amazing ... when all avenues are explored.” His eyes were suddenly on hers. She found herself arguing for the sake of it “They are extraordinary contortionists and dancers who have probably practiced dance and movement since they were little children,” she whispered in return.
He smiled slowly. “Ah, there speaks the practical mind! But what they create with light and music ...
there’s a touch of magic, wouldn’t you say?”
The warmth he had evoked seemed to be spreading throughout her. “I’d say that they are excellent performers, and that the stage is well set, that the lighting and music are wonderful.”
“So you feel no magic, no emotional pull?” He hadn’t moved; again, he seemed even closer.
“Naturally, I feel that they are beautiful ...”