Semblance (3 page)

“Excellent,” Calisto said clasping her hands together. “Now remember, you mustn’t breathe a word of this to anyone else.”

“I swear, not another soul will hear about this,” I raised my hand in the air, as if I were pledging my allegiance.

“Good,” Calisto said. “The punishment for violating the sanctity of our little secret is death—to you and the person you divulge to.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the amusing cliché.

“Sadly, I wish I was joking,” Calisto replied. Her words sent an instant shiver up my spine and for a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder what I was getting myself into.

Chapter Two

The black limo pulled up in front of the sad little shanty that I called home. I was surprised to see Abraham, dressed in a splendid slim-fit tuxedo, step out of the driver’s side door, greeting me with his trademark smile.

“You’re my chauffeur for the evening?” I asked.

“Indeed,” he said, opening the backseat door for me like a true gentleman. “I’m a jack of all trades: restaurant owner, respected socialite, and for this evening, your personal driver.”

“Well if anyone’s to drive me to my potential career suicide, I’m glad it’s you,” I said. Since this morning, I’ve had some issues with my confidence.

It went missing.

I was as jittery as a pornstar in church. I blamed Calisto and her “make or break” line that echoed in my mind over and over again.

If they like you, they can make your career. You can have your pick headlining Vienna, the Metropolitan Opera, or Carnegie Hall.

That was a lot of pressure placed on one single night. What if I screwed it up?

When I was a child, my worst fear was having rotten produce tossed at me after a poor piano recital, which was absurd thinking about it now. Who brought tomatoes and lettuce to piano recitals in the first place?

The more plausible scenario was that someone would hate my music and spread the word of how shitty my performance was to the musical mavens and crush my dreams of selling out concert halls.

I’d rather have the tomatoes.

The thought of failing tonight made me want to drop to the sidewalk and curl up into a fetal position.

“You shouldn’t doubt your talents,” Abraham said as I entered the limo.

He closed the door behind me. As he entered the driver’s seat, he continued to cheer me on. “You’re one extraordinary pianist. I’m sure you’ll have no problems captivating this crowd.”

However, his words escaped my ears as my attention was focused on some disturbing details inside the limo. The first thing I noticed was that the rear windows were tinted black from the inside, restricting any view to the world outside. Also there was a partition between the front seats and the back, which separated me physically from Abraham.

I felt claustrophobic and feared that I was a prisoner in this luxurious motorized prison.

“Hey Abraham, not to sound ungrateful for the ride, but to be honest the lack of natural light is freaking me out a bit,” I said.

“I do apologize for that,” Abraham replied th
rough a speaker in the roof. “Did Calisto inform you that tonight’s event is a very private affair?”

“She did,” I replied.

“Unfortunately the location of the celebration must be kept secret as well,” Abraham said. “You will notice that there is no cell phone reception available in the limo either. I do understand how this may all be a bit unnerving and if you wish, I can inform Calisto that you’ve changed your mind about tonight’s performance. I’m sure she can find a suitable replacement.”

Common sense should have told me to leave the vehicle, head back up to my apartment, and find a less shady way to make some cash. But I was a desperate girl and the potential to make ten thousand dollars for one night’s work was way too good of an opportunity to pass up. I was flat broke once more after paying my tuition with the tips from China White and still needed to cover rent. Common sense had gone fishin
g tonight. I’d listen to it when I wasn’t down to my last nickel.

“Can I trust that you won’t kidnap me and sell me to some European sex-slave ring Abraham?”

“On the soul of my daughter, our organization will not harm you in any way, shape, or form,” Abraham said without hesitation.

“Well then, let’s get this party started,” I said.

“Excellent. I do believe that tonight’s event should open many doors for you in the near future.”

The limo began to move as I held my breath and prayed that I was making a good decision. Over the past four years, I had a tendency to m
ake poor ones, and it was only in hindsight that I realized what an idiot I was at times. I wondered if this was going to be one of those instances.

The quietness of the car ride made me nervous so I decided to start some conversation.

“You have a daughter?” I asked. I had read up about Abraham after the gig last Saturday and there was never any mention in old news articles about his family.

“I
had
a daughter,” Abraham replied. I could hear the sadness in his voice and immediately felt bad for asking. I decided to change the subject.

“There are some wild stories about you on the internet. Are there any truths to them?”

Abraham chuckled. “Like all competitive business owners, I became a victim of slander,” he replied. “When the China White first opened, it was considered one of the premier dining establishments in the city. My chefs, flown from all parts of Asia, were instructed not only to create food but also to create art. My restaurant was the talk of the town and I worked very hard to maintain that sense of grandeur for the China White. Of course, success has its price and I soon discovered the mean spirit of competitive business. I was accused of many things: participating in wild male orgies in the back of my kitchen while patrons feasted on their suckling pig. Apparently I also practiced pagan voodoo and sacrificed virgin blood to demon gods, and probably much worse.”

“That’s so juvenile. Is everyone still in high school?” I remarked.

“Sadly in life, progress in money and power leads to regression in common sense and decency,” Abraham sighed. “It’s a flaw in this little thing that we do. I was hit with these ridiculous accusations, which I took great offense to—not because I was accused of being a homosexual Satanist—but because I took immense pride running a spotless, sanitary kitchen. I would never allow a single drop of body fluid to defile the sanctity of my restaurant’s cooking space.

“So I went to war, fighting against the issue that offended me the most—having a dirty kitchen. As for being
a gay Satanist, I couldn’t care less. Call me a homosexual demon worshipper if you want, just don’t insult my spotless kitchen.”

“A true
gay and religious activist,” I laughed.

“There are much worse things people can read about me,” Abraham said, in almost a whisper.

I decided not to press him on it.

“It seems like you folks love your stories,” I said. “Calisto created one about me, being some virtuous girl who uses her Golden Virgin powers to create beautiful music.”

“Storytelling is a very powerful skill,” Abraham said. “Empires are built and destroyed from the simplest of tales that seep through people’s ears and entrench themselves inside a person’s heart.”

“What’s the difference between stories and lies?” I asked.

There was a long pause. “Stories serve a higher purpose,” he finally replied.

“Are you sure about that one?” I asked.

There was another long pause. “No.”

Well this topic wore out its course; onto another one.

“Tell me about the guests at this exclusive event,” I said.

“It’s a secret,” Abraham replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Well when I get there, I’ll see the guests anyways. What’s the harm in giving me a little spoiler?”

“Did Calisto not share with you the details of tonight’s events?”

“Nothing much, except for that it was top secret.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best. I wouldn’t want to spoil anything for you either. It makes things more exciting that way.”

“Who are you people?” I boldly asked. “I’m almost convinced you guys are twinkling vampires with all your secrets.”

Abraham made no reply.

“You’re not vampires are you?” I asked.

There was still no reply. Suddenly I began to panic. Oh God, what if they were some crazy sect of blood suckers, ready to feast on my not-so-virgin blood, transforming me into one of their kind? Call me odd if you will, but vampires didn’t do it for me. I found their pasty white demeanor creepy as hell.

“I want to suck your blood,” Abraham’s voice echoed through the speaker in a cheesy Transylvanian voice, followed by a hardy laugh.

“You jerk!” I shouted. “You scared the hell out of me for a second.”

“Not to sound insulting but aren’t you too old to believe in monsters?” Abraham asked.

I sighed. “Well you can’t blame me for being paranoid. Everything about this event is so secretive. For all I know, this could be some kind of serial killer soiree.”

“As I said before, I swear on my daughter’s soul that no physical harm will come to you tonight,” Abraham said. “There is no hidden agenda aside from you blessing us with your beautiful music.”

At that point, I should have sat back and relaxed, but I was too inquisitive in nature. I continued on with my questions.

“Is this organization of yours legal?” I asked.

“Do you have skeletons in your closet?” Abraham asked me.

“Well yes,” I said. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“As does our group,” Abraham replied. “One collective skeleton buried six feet under.” There was finality in his voice that told me yet another topic of discussion was over.

I felt like a terrible conversationalist along with the gnawing suspicions that I was into something way over my head.

The remainder of the drive was in silence, though at one point Abraham did ask me if I enjoyed Jazz music. I told him I did and all of a sudden, the eclectic sounds of Miles Davis filled the limo, which, along with the champagne I discovered in the icebox, calmed me a little.

Eventually the limo rolled into a stop and I felt my composure under attack as my nerves melted into puddles of overwhelming anxiety.

Abraham exited the limo and opened the rear door for me.

“We’re here Aria,” he said with a pleasant smile. “Tonight your life is going to change forever.”

#

Chapter Three

Yup, I was definitely in way over my head. I realized this the second I stepped foot inside the stunning mansion.

Everything within was overwhelmingly luxurious. The ceilings were at least eleven feet high with crystal chandeliers hanging from them like long diamond earrings. The glow from the twilight sun flooded the rooms through the tall windows while gentle orange rays glistened against the glassy surface of the indoor pool.

Abraham led me deeper into the estate. Every room we passed by blew my mind with its extravagance—beautiful custom furniture, glorious modern works of art, and elegant and vintage décor. I felt like I was in a resort rather than someone’s house.

Finally Abraham stopped in front of a room on the second floor. “Here at last,” he said as he pushed open the large cream-colored double doors. “This is where you’ll change. You can find your complete outfit inside the walk-in closet,” Abraham said, “Along with a unique piece of attire that you’ll be required to wear for tonight’s festivities. There is also a piano in the room if you wish to warm up until all the other guests arrive. If there’s anything else you need, feel free to page me on the intercom.”

I was astounded by the sheer size of the room. It was larger than most condos or apartments I’ve seen. At the centre of the room was a baby grand piano; a Yahama from what I could tell.

“You guys sure know how to live it large,” I said.

“I do admit, we tend to violate many of the seven sins; greed, vanity, and pride at the forefront,” Abraham said, glancing at his golden watch which I figured to be worth more than all my measly possessions combined. “Oh darn, I’m running behind of schedule. If there’s nothing else you need, I shall take my leave. I’ll have someone send up some snacks and beverages within the hour.”

When I was finally alone, I did what any other curious girl would do. I began to touch everything—the glorious bed, the mahogany dresser, the full-body mirror, the bathroom’s glistening marble countertops—I ran my fingers across it all just to make sure it was all real.

It was.

I walked over to the piano next and lifted open the cover and pressed down lightly on the ‘C’ key in the upper octave, allowing the note to echo throughout the grandiose room.

I could seriously get used to this.

I had no idea how I was going to return to my three hundred square foot hovel after spending an evening in this glorious room. Perhaps someday, my music would allow me into the social elite and I too could enjoy the magical experience of both wealth and power.

Glancing into the mirror, I realized I looked like a poor university student with my ripped and faded jeans and ridiculously tacky t-shirt that sported a picture of a giraffe hugging a brontosaurus. God, I must have looked like such a kid.

Despite Calisto telling me to come casually and they would dress me up to the nines for the event; I still wished I wore something more presentable. But the only thing ‘dressy’ I had was my little black dress that I wore to the China White, which I hadn’t washed yet.

I strolled over to the walk-in closet and opened the door. Inside was a lavish golden mermaid gown with an elegant neckline and decorated with intricate beadwork. The dress was radiating with beauty. It was love at first sight and I tore off my ruddy clothes post-haste in order to slip into this outfit made for a goddess.

I was astounded by how well the dress fit me. Every curve was tight as the dress accentuated my best features while hiding the parts of my body I was the most self-conscious of. The dress was almost as comfortable as my yoga pants—though not quite. Along with it came a pair of matching heels, which also fit perfectly. They had my shoe size down pat as well.

Finally, there was a neat little felt box wrapped in a dainty silk bow tie, resting on top of the dresser with a note on it.

For tonight,
it read.

I shrugged my shoulders and tugged on the bow lightly, unraveling it. I lifted off the cover and gasped.

Inside was a golden Venetian mask, decorated with tiny jewels that formed an intricate pattern. Despite it being a stunning piece of work, it gave me the creeps.

This was what I was supposed to wear for tonight? Was I part of some twisted party worthy of Kubrick’s imagination? I couldn’t handle something like that.

I paged the intercom, hoping to get into contact with Abraham so I could get some answers from him.

“Yes?” I heard his voice echo from the intercom speaker.

“You gave me a mask to wear for tonight,” I declared.

“Indeed I did,” he replied.

“It freaks me out.”

“Not to worry Ms. Aria,” he said calmly. “Tonight’s event has a beauty and the beast theme to it. The women are all ravishing beauties and we men are to portray silver-tongued beasts.
All
the guests will be in masks.”

“Great,” I muttered. His answer didn’t make me feel any better. I decided to come out with it. “Is this one giant secretive sex party?”

“Ah,” Abraham sighed. “I assure you, there will be no open, public sex. We are simply having a party tonight to celebrate a very important milestone for our organization. You will play the piano, grace us with your musical talents, and entertain us. In fact, you don’t even have to say a word to anyone. Your only interactions tonight would be with our marvelous piano, if that’s what you wish.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“That sounds good to me,” I said. “Thank you for your patience while I act like a paranoid nut. I guess I’m on edge. It usually takes me a while to adapt to new situations.”

“Not a problem Ms. Aria,” Abraham said. “I always enjoy hearing from you. Your presence is…refreshing.”

I allowed Abraham to return to his preparations for the party and decided to calm myself by playing some Bach fugues on the piano.

Everything was going to be fine.

While my hands filled the room with Bach’s charming Baroque sounds, I fantasized on how tonight could unfold. I was going to go out there dressed like a Venetian Goddess, play my heart out on the piano, and then sit back and wait for my career to truly begin. It was all going to be a piece of cake.

However, hidden underneath this layer of optimism was the feeling that there was more to this night than Abraham and Calisto led on; that I was going to be a part of something big whether I wanted to or not.

#

The party started shortly before midnight, which gave me plenty of time to get ready. I started off by waxing and shaving every inch of my body, ridding myself of any stray hairs that weren’t on my head. The last thing I wanted was to come out looking like a gold-faced Sasquatch. When I was satisfied with the purge, I proceeded to curl my unruly hair into pretty little locks. Finally I applied a healthy dose of mascara and blush on my face, which was probably a waste of time since it was going to be concealed behind the golden mask anyways.

But just in case.

A few minutes before the witching hour, there was a knock on my door.

“I’m ready to party,” I replied.

Abraham entered, dressed in an elegant custom suit that fit snuggly on his thin frame. His graying hair was slicked back and he was clean-shaven. In his hand, he was holding a mask as well.

“Let’s see what yours looks like,” I said, pointing to his mask. He raised it to his head and slipped it over his face.

“How do I look?” he asked.

The mask was smooth and polished grey and its features reminded me of an elegant looking wolf, both feral and beautiful to look at.

“You look like a handsome wolf,” I replied.

“Excellent,” Abraham said. “That’s what I was going for. I feared my mask strayed from my original design and became too beastly looking.”

“You were going for the big, bad wolf look?”

“The wolf is the symbol of my family,” Abraham explained, the mask still on his face. “It has become synonymous with the Constantine family name.”

“Is everyone’s mask at the party going to be unique?”

“Yes,” Abraham replied. “Every person tonight will have symbols on their masks that tell a rich story of their family’s background.”

“What about mine?” I asked as I examined the golden mask again. On closer inspection, I noticed that the patterns formed the outline of twin doves interlocked together. “What do these doves symbolize?”

Abraham smiled. “The doves symbolize your legs my lady,” he said, “And to have them intertwined together tells everyone that your legs are closed. This is the myth of the Golden Virgin.”

“But I’m not a virgin,” I protested. “It’s just a bold-faced lie.”

“And my family wasn’t a pack of wolves either,” Abraham replied. “Remember what I said about stories? Some of the most powerful empires are built through stories.”

“You also said that some of the most powerful empires are destroyed through stories.”

“Touché.”

From downstairs, I heard guests being welcomed at the door. Abraham gestured to the mask in my hand.

“Well Aria, the golden angel of chastity and virtue, are you ready to meet your destiny?” he asked.

“I’m never ready,” I replied. “But what other choice do I have but to keep on moving through life?”

“None,” Abraham replied calmly as he ushered me through the chamber door and out into the hallway.

By this time the mansion was already filled with a fair number of guests. The men wore full facial masks, painted in dark colors, some resembling animals while others were smooth surfaces with beautiful patterns and symbols etched into them. Meanwhile the women wore simple white masks that covered only the upper half of their face
s, some decorated with feathers and jewels and others plain. It seemed like I was the only woman displaying a full mask that concealed my mouth.

For a moment, I was worried that breathing was going to be an issue but the air holes in the mask were crafted in such a way that airflow was not restrictive.

Abraham led me to a wide-open area of the mansion, a circular foyer where all paths converged. It reminded me of the center of a labyrinth, with the exception that instead of a massive man-killing Minotaur waiting for me, there was the most beautiful and rare piano in existence sitting on an elevated circular stage.

The angelic glow from the ceiling lights enveloped the entire stage, accentuating the beauty of the nine-foot Heintzman Piano.

It was so very surreal.

I couldn’t believe that I, Aria Valencia whom only four days ago was eating peanut butter and pickle sandwiches—not because I liked them, but because there was nothing else in my fridge—was going to play music on an extravagant work of art valued at over three million dollars.

I almost wet myself in front of everyone. Thank God for my mastery over my urinary tract. They would have had to change my nickname from the Golden Virgin to the Golden Shower otherwise.

A familiar voice echoed throughout the hallways, captivating the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

“What a special night it is for all of us,” Calisto said, standing at the top of the banister overlooking everyone. She looked ravishing in a cream colored dress that was embellished with tiny diamonds at the bust. The end of her gown seemed to flow like a river of milk as she strolled down the winding marble staircase, making her way to the ground level.

Whereas all the other female masks (aside from my own) were white in color, her
s was black with an exotic flower tattooed onto the left cheek.

“Because of the importance of this celebration, I have flown over the rarest of talents from the most rural regions of Easter
n Europe—the small town of Anastasia.”

I turned to Abraham and whispered into his ear, “Where’s Anastasia?”

“I doubt it exists,” he replied. “Calisto enjoys playing games with everyone, stretching her stories to the realms of impossible just to see who she can fool into believing her.”

It made me second-guess whether or not she actually did fuck a Chilean carpenter rather than a Chili-eating carpet seller.

“I cannot tell you what a treat it is for the Golden Virgin to grace us with her beautiful music tonight,” she continued. “She is a mystical entity that will set the entire music world on fire. She is the start of the new era of provocative classical. To give you some history, I heard a tale just last week from a very reliable source that simply stunned me.”

Oh God,
I thought to myself. What the hell was Calisto doing? I looked around and saw the entire crowd of faceless masks drawn to her speech like addicts; her eloquent words the opium that seduced them.

“Word has it that a man knocking on death’s door, dying from an incurable stage of cancer had the final wish of listening to the Golden Virgin play on his old, run-down, out-of-tune piano,” she began. “Being the saint that she was, the Golden Virgin rushed as fast as she could to his home, making it just in time before the cancer stole him away into death
’s arms. She played for him a heartbreaking song that she wrote for her own father when he passed away.
Taofie Cyhmore Mag-pubr Tynwon
she called it, which translated to ‘Breathless’ in her native tongue.”