On the floor where mine and Damien’s offices are, it’s decorated to the max with Halloween décor. The staff really went out of their way to bring a lot of liveliness to their workstations. Black and orange cover every part of the walls, cubicles, and windows, and someone has spooky music playing.
I love the ambiance.
As I walk around the floor, people are laughing, chatting, and discussing their costumes. Many of the staff are eager for the ball and hoping to find someone to spend their night with. Hearing this and seeing their excitement reminds me that while my ulterior motive was to suit my own best interests, Damien and I have done something nice for our staff. We try to take care of them as much as possible. We do want them to be happy.
When I get to Damien’s office, I don’t bother knocking. There has been a time or two when I wish I had, but today could definitely be a mix of both—Damien’s dancing around, with his back to the door. As deftly as possible, I pull my phone out and start videotaping him. I’ll need this later for some epic blackmail session we’re sure to have.
Damien turns around, and that’s when I lose my calm. I bend at the waist, hysterically laughing while he calls me a mother fucker. Something hits the side of my face, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a black pointy ear lying on the floor.
“B. . .ba. . .Batman?” I finally say through laughter.
“Bruce Wayne,” Damien corrects me. “At least I was until you started mocking me.”
I take a deep breath, right myself, and shut off the video. Damien flips me off, which I’m guessing has to do with the fact I’m holding my phone. “First off, no one knows Bruce Wayne is Batman. Second, what’s up with the dance moves?”
Damien groans and leans back in his chair. “I started thinking about you and Ensley, and I got a little jealous. I was hoping to find someone tonight.”
“That doesn’t explain what I walked in on.”
“I was trying to learn the Batdance.”
“I’m sorry, the what?”
“Don’t you remember when Prince created the Batdance?”
“Yes. . .” I let the word linger in the air, afraid of where this might go.
“The DJ called to let us know there will be a line dance or two, so I suggested the Batdance.”
I don’t know what hits my face first, my palm, or my fist. “Damien, what the hell? No one knows the damn Batdance.” I pick his mask up off the floor and toss it at him. Before I leave the doorway of his office, I say, “If that dance happens, I have a feeling you’ll be by yourself out there. Not sure anyone will want to talk to you after that unless there’s a Catwoman who was obsessed with Michael Keaton.”
After I leave Damien’s office, I gather my things and head over to the hotel. I have a room for the night, and after the party starts, hotel staff will come in with a bottle of champagne, some strawberries, and they’ll spread rose petals around the room. I have high hopes, and if this fails, I don’t know what I’ll do to get her attention. I’m past the point of telling her the truth.
It takes me just over two hours to get ready. Every second my heartbeat raced faster and my nerves felt as if they were trying to poke out of my body. When the alarm on my phone goes off, I silence it, stand in front of the mirror, fix my suit jacket, adjust my mask, and hold my empty martini glass in my hand. I hold the glass up in salute.
“I’m one sexy looking Jay Gatsby,” I say to my reflection.
I step out of my room and into the hall. Others are walking by, dressed up. I keep my head down, not wanting anyone to recognize me, just yet. I want to look for Ensley through the crowd and not find her randomly in the hallway.
By the time I reach the lobby, it’s packed. The line to get in is out the door. “Holy shit,” I mutter as I look at every one. I make my way to the ballroom, and my mouth drops open. The entire space has cobwebs coming from the ceiling, each high-top table has dry ice on it, so it looks like they’re steaming. Fog machines are doing their job and hiding everyone’s feet. But what gets me is the lighting. I expected orange, but Ensley and Jordan decided to go with purple. I never thought of it as a Halloween color until now.
With nothing left to lose, I make my way around the room, looking into the eyes of every woman I stop and talk to. A couple of them ask me to dance, and when I politely decline, one woman says to me, “If you don’t find your Daisy, maybe you like Anastasia better.”
I don’t have a clue who Anastasia is, but she doesn’t have green eyes, so she’s not the one for me.
5
Ensley
The party is a success.
The ballroom is decorated from top to bottom and it’s a full house. The bartenders are going to make serious bank tonight with all the tips they’re getting. As I walk around, I listen in on some of the conversations. People are getting to know each other and having fun in the process. It wouldn’t surprise me if all the hotel rooms get booked up tonight. There’s something about the anonymity of a masquerade party that gets the endorphins going. Granted, most of these people are probably exchanging names, not like what I did with my mystery man a month ago.
I walk over to the bar station and order a glass of Riesling. Jordan comes up beside me, dressed as a sexy pirate. “I’ll have a glass of the same,” she tells the bartender.
We take our
