Semblance (7 page)

I eyed him suspiciously.

“A contract?”

“Yes, those pieces of paper with written agreements on them that we both have to sign afterwards.”

“I know what a contract is,” I said. “It just seems so…business-like.”

“I do run a business empire in my spare time,” Shadow said. “A contract will protect both of us.”

After giving it some thought, I finally agreed. “Draft it up,” I said.

We headed back into the estate in silence, which was good. It gave me time to process all the strange events that had occurred overnight.

My music was a sensational hit amongst the rich and powerful, I was chosen to be the bride of some ‘Lord of the Midnight Society,’ I was going to go on two dates with him only to be dumped afterwards, but it would result in a blossoming music career.

“Wait,” I said. “You’re going to help me with my career because you like my music, and not because I’m going to go on two dates with you, right?”

“Yes,” Shadow replied. “You’re very talented. I believe that you can do great things with those fingers of yours. You just need a little help to reach your goals.”

I was satisfied with his answer, and I smiled at him.

“Thanks Shadow,” I replied.

“Two dates,” he repeated.

“Alright already,” I said annoyed. “Draft it up and I’ll sign on the dotted line. Man you’re like a broken record, you know that?”

“Just confirming our agreement,” he said. “The human mind remembers things through repetition.”

“Why don’t you just tattoo it on my forehead,” I replied. “Two dates.”

Shadow seemed to ignore me as he found himself a piece of paper and pen. He began scribbling onto it, and then set it aside and began working on another piece of paper.

When he was finally done, there were two handwritten contracts in elegant neat writing lying on the wooden oak desk.

“Read it through,” he said.

There was a lot of technical and legal mumbo jumbo that I was oblivious to. I skimmed through it briefly, searching for the few key words I was looking for.

Finally on the last line, Shadow had written:

After the second public meeting between Aria Valencia and Shadow Tremaine, the two shall agree to mutually terminate their courtship with one another. Shadow will provide Aria with assistance in furthering her career as a classical pianist through his vast resources (excluding money and personal time) and Aria Valencia will agree to cease any contact with Shadow Tremaine. These conditions are firm.

I looked over to Shadow, who casually handed me a pen. “The contract is broken only when both parties decide to dispose of it. As long as one person is holding onto it, it’s binding,” he said.

“You have yourself a deal,” I said as I wrote my name onto both copies of the contracts. Shadow did the same, before extending his hand towards me.

“Deals should always be solidified with a handshake,” he said.

I shrugged my shoulders and reached for his hand, taking it in mine. His grip was firm but gentle. There was a lot of strength contained within that muscular body of his and I pitied whoever was responsible for stirring the demons buried inside of him.

However there was also tenderness to Shadow, and for a brief moment, I wondered what it felt like being held within his massive arms.

I had to stop fantasizing about him. No good would ever come from being with this guy.

Shadow was gorgeous. Shadow was mysterious. And Shadow was dangerous.

“I’ll have Abraham pick you up on Saturday then,” he said in a business-like tone. “Wear something nice.”

“Okay,” I said dumbly. I was still enthralled by the strength of his touch.

“And you can let go of my hand now,” he added.

How embarrassing. I released my puny grip from his large, strong hands.

“Right,” I replied. “Saturday sounds good.”

Shadow raised his arms to the ceiling and stretched while rotating his neck from side-to-side. “Great,” he said in between a yawn. “Well if there’s nothing else, I’m exhausted. You must be pretty tired yourself. I’ll buzz Abraham to give you a lift home.”

He was right. I was ready to collapse onto my single bed back in the shack I called home.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye now,” I said, adding, “it was a pleasure.”

“I’d love to hear you play again sometime,” Shadow insisted. “Maybe you can on one of our dates.”

I smiled. “That depends on how the dates go. I don’t play just for anybody you know.”

“Right.” He shrugged, turning his attention to the outside of the bay window, peering out into the morning light. There was an unmistakable sadness hidden deep within him.

Perhaps we weren’t so different after all.

#

It was almost noon when Abraham dropped me off in front of my apartment. I was wiped.

“I shall pick you up on Saturday evening, say around five p.m.?” Abraham asked.

I nodded wearily.

“Make sure to check your bank account as well. Your payment should be there already.”

“But I never gave you guys my bank account number,” I said.

Abraham grinned and waved farewell. “I’ll see you Saturday,” he said as he rolled up the window of the limo.

I watched him drive off into the distance, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Who the hell were these people?

I dragged my tired ass up the rotting wooden staircases of my apartment, still wearing the evening gown they gave me. It was too good for this hovel.

It took me a good minute of fumbling around for my keys before I let myself into my apartment, stumbling in wearily like an impeccably dressed zombie.

Bleary eyed, I flipped open my laptop and checked my bank account. Last night I had exactly $4.36 to my name. Now there was $11,004.36.

Not bad for two night’s work.

If I wasn’t so tired, I would have screamed to the heavens in pure ecstasy, but instead, I let out a yawn and said, “Sweet.”

I collapsed onto my bed not bothering to remove the dress. The last image I had before
drifting off into a deep sleep was the brooding look of Shadow’s face, just before I left him alone in his study.

Who are you Shadow? What ghosts haunt your thoughts? Two intriguing questions which I hoped to unravel on our future dates.

But first, sweet precious sleep.

#

Chapter Seven

I woke to the sounds of the Muppet’s
Mahna Mahna
, my cellphone ring tone, which normally put me in a cheerful mood. However seeing as how I slept only for an hour before it ripped me away from my sweet slumber, the song pissed me off.

No I couldn’t blame the happy tune. It was whoever was calling me that was the culprit. I reached for my phone and looked at the name on my call display.

Justin.

I put my phone on mute and tossed it back onto my night table, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

I was bailing on musical history class, and like an overprotective brother, Justin was probably trying to figure out where I was.

I’ll meet up with him later tonight and grab whatever notes I missed from class. But for now, I wanted nothing more than to be seduced by my warm duvet and Mr. Sandman’s dreams.

#

Justin opened the door to his condo, dressed in torn jeans and a white tank top.

He greeted me with a boyish “kiss me beautiful” type of grin, like he always did.

“I missed you in class today,” he said.

“I noticed,” I replied. “You called me five times in the span of five minutes.”

“I was wondering if you forgot about our test today,” he said. “I guess you did.
”

Oh shit! There
was
a test today on Schubert’s Erlkonig. It was one of the more interesting topics in music history, and one that I read up a great deal on. It would have been an easy way to boost up my average in the course, which was presently suffering because of my dick-faced professor who didn’t agree with a few of my essays.

“Fuck,” I cursed.

“Yeah,” Justin said. “It was on a topic you liked as well. Where were you anyways?”

“Come on, let’s go grab some food at the Brickstone,” I said. “I’ll fill you in on the way there.”

“I was in the middle of making dinner, but I guess I can save it for tomorrow. Just let me get my wallet,” Justin said as he headed back inside.

“No way, you bought me lunch last time. Let me at least get your burger.”

“Are you buying me dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Is this a date?”

I saw the twinkle in his eye and regretted my offer almost immediately.

“No,” I replied. “I’m just paying you back. I don’t like being in debt to anyone.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Justin said.

“Yes I do. Now no more debating,” I said. “I’m starving.”

#

I was hesitant to tell Justin the truth, especially seeing how clandestine last night’s celebration was, but I was going to explode if I didn’t spill my guts to someone about it. Justin was my closest friend and I trusted him with just about any secret.

After having Justin swear an oath of eternal secrecy, I filled him in on last night’s events. As I listened to the words coming out of my mouth, I was beginning to realize how preposterous it all sounded: masked aristocrats, the Golden Virgin, secret societies, fucked up rituals, arranged marriages, and a dating contract. The only thing I left out were the names revealed to me.

Justin stayed quiet the entire time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought I was crazy.

When I finally finished spinning my yarn, I looked at him and shrugged my shoulders.

“Well?” I said. “Sounds crazy right? Am I going nuts?”

“You shouldn’t go on those dates,” he replied. There was anger in his voice along with resentment.

“Why?” I asked, but secretly I already knew the answer. It was a mistake to tell him about the dates.

For a second, I felt guilty that I was letting him down.

“Just don’t go,” he replied.

“I have to. I signed a contract remember? And I’ll be fine. Who knows, it might even be fun, mingling with the rich and famous.”

“What if I don’t want you to go?”

I met his question with a shrug. So this was it; the relationship talk. I knew this day was coming at some point. I had tried so hard to put it off, but I knew I couldn’t run away from the inevitable forever.

“Aria…” Justin began.

“Look Justin, you’re an important part of my life,” I said. “In fact, you’re the only friend I have in this lonely place.”

“I can be more than that,” he said, reaching for my hands. I pulled them back and saw the look of hurt on his face.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I just don’t want any relationship right now.”

“What about later on?”

I shook my head. “Eventually yes,” I said and paused before adding. “But with someone else.”

If this were a street fight, those words were the knockout punch. Justin looked at me like I had stabbed him, tears welling up in his eyes.

“I…I love you Aria.”

Ugh. I brought this on myself. Justin needed to know how I felt. I had been stringing him along for far too long now, all because I was a lonely, selfish girl.

“Justin,” I began, “I told you this many times, you’re important to me. But I’ve always seen you like the brother I never had. To start dating you would be…” choose your next words wisely Aria, “…like incest.”

Legendary failure.

“The thought of us together disgusts you that much?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “that came out all wrong. God, I’m terrible at expressing myself sometimes.”

“No,” Justin said, the look of hurt evolving into anger now. “I think you made it loud and clear. Well, I wouldn’t want you to feel like being with me was some forbidden taboo. We’re done here.”

He turned around and stormed off. I wanted to call out to him, but stopped myself. Emotions were at a peak, and nothing good would come out of anything he or I said right now. I’ll text him in a few days. Hopefully he’ll have cooled off by then.

I watched as Justin—my only friend in the world—disappeared over the horizon. Like everyone else in my life, he left me alone and feeling miserable.

But telling him the truth was the right thing to do; the
only
thing to do wasn’t it?

#

Chapter Eight
:

After mutilating Justin’s heart with my brilliant ‘feels like incest’ explanation, I felt awful. I could have sat around feeling miserable about the entire thing, but I decided to do something for myself instead, just to take my mind off things.

It’s been so long since I had a ‘me only’ day.

With my freshly stocked bank account, I headed over to the mall to buy some new clothes, which was a long time coming.

I only had three pairs of jeans, which all had holes in various locations and not being able to afford a new pair, I ended up becoming quite skilled in the art of sewing up the gaps. 

With some newfound financial flexibility, the thought of retiring my jeans and wearing a brand new pair delighted me.

I decided to spoil myself and purchase a pair of designer skinny jeans that was one hundred and thirty six percent over my usual budget.

With my credit card in hand, I strolled up to the cash register of the trendy boutique to ring in my purchase. However after inserting my card through the chip reader, the foggy-eyed cashier pulled out my card and returned it to me, smiling while shaking her head.

“Shit, am I maxed out again?” I asked.

“Your money is no good here.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Like you won’t take my business?”

She chuckled. “Enjoy the jeans,” she replied as she placed them in the shopping bag and handed them over to me.

“Just like that?” I asked incredulously. “I get to walk out of here without paying a cent?”

“Yes,” she said, still maintaining her glowing smile.

“You’re not entrapping me or anything? The second I walk out of the store, security’s not going to drag me back in and search me?”

“No, your purchase is valid.”

She rang up a receipt in the cash register and handed it over to me.

“Just to ease your worries,” she said.

I grabbed it, gave her my thanks, and walked out the store, stunned. Did that just happen? For me to walk out of a store with a three hundred dollar pair of jeans without dropping a cent was too good to be true.

Oddly enough, the same thing occurred when I tried to purchase a tall Americano at Starbucks. My credit card went inside the chip reader and the barista took my card out and handed it back to me, along with my drink, without any purchase confirmation.

“Enjoy,” he said.

Holy shit! Was it possible that my credit card had become the holy grail of unlimited shopping?

I needed to test this theory. I went to Michael Kors next and purchased a large Hamilton canvas tote handbag valued at five hundred and fifty dollars, followed by a cotton linen parka from Burberry priced at eight hundred and fifty bucks, and topped it off with a pair of Jimmy Choo pixel high heels costing six hundred bucks. Total value of purchases:
two thousand bucks.

Total amount I was charged for these items: zero.

I was on cloud nine.

My shopping spree continued on for another two hours, until the mall’s closing. I had a grin that stretched across my entire face knowing that I had just restocked my wardrobe and jewelry collection with designer purchases.

Hunger soon gnawed at my stomach and I decided to treat myself to a special dinner.

As I sat at Omakase Japanese Restaurant, dining on pieces of raw fish that cost four hundred dollars per plate, I could only speculate on my recent fortunes.

No doubt, Shadow and this clandestine Midnight Society had a role to play in all this. As I looked at my piles of shopping bags—filled with dresses, shoes, sunglasses, etcetera, etcetera—with insuppressible glee, common sense snuck up from behind and struck me like a slap across the backside of my head.

By accepting all of these items, I had put myself in debt to these crazy people. I was blinded by my shopping frenzy and during those three hours of euphoric bliss, I had lost my mind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cursed aloud, drawing the attention of all the rich patrons in this overpriced—but incredibly delicious—restaurant.

“Is the sashimi to your liking?” the old sushi master asked, a dumbfounded look on his face.

“They own you too, don’t they?” I whispered as I dropped my chopsticks onto the table. “By eating these delectable pieces of raw fish, I’m handing my life over to your organization.”

The old master, whose wrinkles reminded me of a prehistoric turtle, looked at me, puzzled. Eventually he let out a deep sigh.

“There is an ancient Japanese proverb--” he began.

“Blah, blah, blah,” I said as
I quickly pulled out my debit card that was linked directly to my bank account. There was no way I was going to add more to my tab owing to the Midnight Society, which was to be paid for with my soul.

“Your money is no good here,” turtle face replied.

“Charge me for this meal,” I cried out in desperation. “Please.”

“You are our guest here today. Your presence brings our restaurant great honor.”

“No, there’s nothing special about me. I pull up my pants the same way you do so let me pay for this freaking meal,” I demanded.

He shook his head.

I was about to lose it.

“Please I insist,” I tried one last time.

“When royalty dines in a peasant’s house, the peasant does not charge the queen,” he replied.

Royalty? I’ll show them royalty. I decided to go off the rails. I picked up my bottle of sake and dropped it to the floor.

“Let me pay for that,” I said.

“No.”

Argh. At this point I was seriously considering taking out the bottle of overpriced perfume I purchased and spraying the entire sushi bar with it, defiling the sanctity of their kitchen with the scent of perfume. However I had caused enough damage here for one day.

Feeling rather ashamed, I reached down to pick up the broken glass from the shattered bottle of sake. A waitress was already there cleaning up the mess.

“Don’t,” I said. “I got it.”

“Please, do not concern yourself,” the waitress remarked as she placed the last of the broken pieces on an empty tray and headed to the back of the kitchen.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a jerk.”

“No apologies needed,” old master turtle said.

I gathered up my shopping bags and stood up, suddenly aware that all attention in the restaurant was focused on me.

“I still owe you,” I said as I headed for the exit.

“No you don’t,” the old man replied. “And please do come again.”

#

“That’ll be twenty-four dollars,” the cabdriver said as he dropped me in front of my apartment.

I was shocked.

“Really?” I asked. “You’re going to charge me?”

“Well yeah,” the cab driver said, shooting me an awkward glance. “Why are you surprised?”

I was ecstatic as I reached into my pocket and yanked out two twenty-dollar bills.

“Thank you!” I exclaimed as I thrust the cash into the palm of his hand. “I’m so happy you’re charging me. Please, keep the change.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” the cabdriver said, just before cracking a smile. “But I like your generous ways.”

“You’re sweet,” I replied as I got out of the cab.

Just as the taxi pulled away, a black limo pulled up beside me. The passenger side window slowly scrolled down revealing Abraham’s weathered features.

“Is it Saturday already?” I asked. “I didn’t know the universe decided to remove Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday from the weekly calendar.”

Abraham laughed warmly. “Actually, I’m here to drive you home.”

“I am home,” I said.

“To your
new
home,” Abraham corrected me, as if I was to know this tidbit of knowledge. “All your belongings have been moved to your new penthouse condo down on Fifth Street.”

Did I hear him correctly? “What?”

“You now live in the Penthouse suite at the Luxe down on Fifth Street,” Abraham repeated.

This had to be a joke. “Abraham, I can’t afford a condo there, let alone a parking spot.”

“It’s all been taken care of Ms. Aria.”

I shook my head. “Abraham, thank you for the gifts and all, but I really can’t accept any of it.”

Abraham tilted his head towards the piles of shopping bags in my hands. “It looks like you already have,” he pointed out.

“Uh yeah…” I began. “I kind of lost control.”

“What are you afraid of Aria?” Abraham asked.

“I don’t want to be owned by anyone,” I replied. “Not by Shadow or the Midnight Society. I haven’t earned any of this stuff and I don’t want to be in debt to anyone.”

“We’ll never ask for you to pay this stuff back,” Abraham said. “Accept it as a gift.”

“You know the saying ‘if it’s too good to be true?’”

“I am aware of Shadow’s arrangement with you. After two dates, the fictional relationship between Shadow and yourself will end. I also understand that these two dates will take up a lot of your time and efforts. Consider all these gifts as payment for your time.”

“In exchange for two dates, you’re giving me a condo,” I stated. “That’s way too much.”

“The Midnight Society offers exceptionally competitive rates,” Abraham said.

I stood on the sidewalk dumbfounded—shopping bags in hand—and stared pensively at the ground. I was still unsure about any of this. I just didn’t trust the Midnight Society and whatever games they had me involved in.

“I feel like an over-priced escort,” I finally sighed.

“Nonsense,” Abraham said. “You won’t be required to have sex with anyone.”

I had the mental image of Shadow pressing his massive, rock-hard body against my naked flesh and it sent shivers all over my body. I guess that wouldn’t have been
so
bad.

“Right,” I said.

“So Ms. Aria, I guess the question for you now is, do you intend to spend the rest of the evening standing on this shady street with your expensive clothes, enticing savage criminals to rob you of all your gifts? Or will you get into the car and allow me to drive you to your new four thousand square-foot condo?”

He made a good sales pitch.

I opened the passenger door to the limo, tossed all of my bags into the backseat and got in.

“Home Jeeves,” I said.

“Please don’t call me that,” Abraham said, pleasantly. “I’m not a butler.”

“Sorry.”

“All is forgiven,” he said cheerfully. “Your new home awaits my princess. Welcome to the world of the social elite.”

#