She's the One

by Teresa F. Morgan

  Steve hurried around in the afternoon, cleaning glasses and filling the fridges with bottles of wine, beer, and mixers. He and Ruby were going to be working that night, but she assured him it was just as good fun. It meant other staff who deserved the night off would get to party.

  Callum and Steve had cleared most of the furniture out of the bar, making an area available for the band, and a temporary small wooden dance floor had been laid.

  “Have you got a costume?” Callum said, huffing and panting with the sofa between them.

  “Ruby’s organised it,” Steven replied as they lowered the sofa into place out in the hallway. They’d moved some of the tables and chairs to the edges of the room, and around the dance floor so that there were areas to sit and put drinks down.

  “So you don’t know what you’re wearing?”

  Steve cringed. No, he didn’t.

  ***

  Steve stared at his reflection in the mirror. Had Ruby taken this a step too far? Was this some kind of joke?

  Superman. He was wearing a goddamn Superman costume. And he had a mask of Christopher Reeve’s face. To get into character, he’d slicked his hair so that it had the quiff at the front and looked darker.

  “Come on, Steve. We need to be there by seven thirty,” Ruby called up the stairs.

  Maybe it was a good job he was working because he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to store his wallet. He stood at the top of the stairs, hands on his hips.

  “Couldn’t you have found me a better costume?”

  “The theme is film stars and characters. And I left it a bit late. That was really the only thing in your size. Besides, I think it’s apt.” Ruby, unrecognisable dressed as Wonder Woman – including the black wig of hair – stood at the bottom, matching his stance. They were both getting into character, obviously.

  “Apt! More like tight.”

  “Shove a pair of socks down there if you’re worried.”

  “I don’t need to put socks down there. Thank you very much.” That certainly wasn’t his problem. He wondered if this took his disguise to another level. Oh, the irony. But wasn’t he supposed to be dorky, and here he was showing off his toned physique. Maybe he should have laid off the exercise…Would a cardboard mask of Christopher Reeve really hide who he was?

  “I thought a masked ball was a glitzy affair. Big dresses and tuxedos.”

  “We did that last year. The staff wanted a bit more of a fancy dress theme – which is optional.”

  “Couldn’t I have worn a tuxedo?”

  “No!”

  “And what am I supposed to do about my glasses?” Steve had tucked an arm of the frames down his costume, so they hung at his chest.

  “Take them with you, and see how you get on. Everyone will be drunk by the end of the night.”

  The doorbell rang. Steve froze.

  “Oh, an early trick or treater!” Ruby said excitedly, clapping her hands then opening the front door. Saved by the bell.

  “Trick or treat,” said a chorus of tiny voices. Two cute little witches and a three-foot skeleton.

  Ruby dished out the sweets then shut the door.

  “Come on, Superman,” Ruby shouted.

  “Maybe I should have the costume under a suit…and play Clark Kent.”

  “We don’t have time. You look brilliant. Come on, my Man of Steel.”

  “Isn’t that a different actor?”

  If it hadn’t been so dark, the car journey would have been more interesting. Steve and Ruby did get a wave at the traffic lights, and someone flashed their headlights. Oh and a middle-aged man crossing the road nearly tripped over – which made Ruby giggle. By then, Steve had pulled his mask on.

  This better not get in the press.

  The band was setting up and testing the microphones when Ruby and Steve arrived at the hotel. All the tables, covered with black tablecloths, had a scattering of pumpkin- and skeleton-shaped glittery confetti. The bar, adorned in Halloween decorations, had cobwebs hanging between the spirit bottles and spiders hanging from the ceiling. Outside on the terrace, lanterns were lit and the patio heater was fired up, ready for the smokers to gather. Other staff working the event were also in costumes. From James Bond – easy, a damn tux! Couldn’t he have worn that? – to Mary Poppins. Steve tried to work out who was who. He’d been at the hotel a few weeks now, and was easily able to put names to faces, but the idea of a masked ball was to have some anonymity. There was more irony to this party; Steve in reality had met some of the faces on the masks.

  Some of the partygoers had, like Steve, cardboard masks of their characters to hide their identity, and others wore the masquerade masks, some beautifully decorated and ornate.

  “All right, Stu?” A man dressed as Robin slapped his back, then punched his gloved fists together before placing them on his hips, rehearsed true Robin style. He wasn’t the ‘film’ Robin, but the old TV show that Steve had watched reruns of as a kid. Callum wore a red and green costume with a bright yellow cape. Even though he wore Robin’s black mask he was still recognisable. See, flimsy disguises don’t really work. Who was he kidding with a pair of glasses? Besides, Callum was the only person to call Steve, Stu.

  Steve was relieved he wasn’t the only guy now wearing tights.

  Batman (Adam West rather than Christian Bale) appeared by his side-kick, Callum, and it took Steve a moment to realise it was Brett. Although a slim build, the man wasn’t so scrawny out of his chef whites.

  “Are you working tonight?” Steve asked them.

  “I am,” said Callum.

  “I’m not.” Brett raised a pint of beer and grinned. It was the only part of his face showing. Now he was wearing the right kind of costume – one that had a great mask. And another guy wearing tights. “Good job Ruby closes the restaurant, as I can’t work in a kitchen dressed like this.”

  Steve chuckled. No, a kitchen certainly wasn’t the best place to wear synthetic materials. “Holy bat mobiles, you mean you aren’t carrying a fire extinguisher in your utility belt?”

  Brett laughed, then his smile faded as Ruby approached. It was becoming DC Comics Superhero Central.

  “Nice costume, Ruby,” Brett said. “Are you working tonight?”

  “Sadly, yes, someone needs to keep an eye on you lot.”

  “Maybe I can buy you a drink later then?”

  Steve noticed a hint of confusion in Ruby’s expression as she waved it off with a, “Yes, yes, maybe later. Thank you.” Did she realise it was Brett? “Right, Robin, to the bat cave, bring me some more ice, please. Superman,” she turned to Steve smirking, “there are Hollywood stars starting to arrive at the bar.”

  “Now I know why you chose Wonder Woman,” Steve said.

  Steve lifted the hatch, and went behind the bar. As he wiped down the counter, an impressive Yoda approached.

  “What can I get you, sir?” Steve said, frowning. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of everyone hiding behind a mask or not. Whoever it was under there was short – well, shorter than Steve – and so suited the costume.

  Yoda lifted his mask to reveal a grinning Pete. He was Ruby’s assistant manager, and because Steve worked most hours with Ruby, he didn’t see him much. Ruby constantly moaned about the man and his incompetence.

  “Fosters, a pint of, mate,” Pete said in Yoda style.

  Steve poured the pint and between them they shared some corny Star Wars jokes. “May the Force be with you,” Steve said handing Pete his drink.

  At nine o’clock the band kicked off, playing covers of the latest hits. More and more film characters and stars arrived. The iconic characters were popular. Steve served a few Darth Vaders. There were storm troopers, an Avatar, Spider Man and even a Scooby Doo. Everyone’s costumes were brilliant; they’d gone to town on the details. There was an Elvis, and his mask was a pair of huge Seventies style sunglasses. He had the quiff and the sequins, and became the centre of attention on the dance floor with his swinging hips.

  Callum gave St
eve a nudge, and he looked in the direction Callum gestured.

  “Who is that?” Callum said.

  Catwoman walked towards the bar. It could have been Michelle Pfeiffer, only a little more curvier. The mask covered most of her face. She was unrecognisable. It had to be Alice. Only Alice would wear a black cat suit so confidently.

  “Hi, a glass of white wine, please,” Catwoman said. She could have been purring. Over the noise of the band, Steve couldn’t even make out the voice. It didn’t help that his brain had travelled south.

  “Sure, Pinot Grigio or the Chardonnay?”

  “The Pinot, please.”

  Steve must have been frowning, because she smirked. He could see blue eyes, heavily lined with black kohl and mascara. He recognised the eyes, but could not place them to a face. And didn’t Alice have brown eyes?

  Steve handed her the glass of wine. She went to pay, but he winked. “This one’s on me.”

  She flirtatiously smiled her full, glossy red lips, raised her glass and gave a seductive purr that rumbled all the way to Steve’s groin, then walked off.

  Steve watched, trying to gather clues as to who the woman was. All her hair was tucked up into her mask, so he couldn’t even tell her hair colour. She joined some girls on the dance floor. Some were waitresses in the restaurant, even Brett was there. Maybe she worked in the restaurant, too. Who was she?

  “Stop ogling, and keep working.” Ruby appeared in front of Steve with some empty glasses.

  “Hey, the whole idea is for me to meet a woman.” Shaken from his reverie, Steve cleared the glasses off the bar straight into the dishwasher.

  “This is true.”

  “Hey, Ruby, who is Catwoman?” Callum asked the question Steve was dying to know the answer to.

  Ruby smirked, hands on her hips in a true Wonder Woman manner – maybe she had the acting gene too – and said coolly, “For me to know, you two to find out. Now get back to work.”

  If only Steve did have x-ray vision…

  Once Ruby had disappeared into the crowd, Callum said into Steve’s ear, “Am I allowed to tell you your sister looks hot in hot pants?”

  Steve scowled at Callum. “No.” Then smiled, and slapped him on the back playfully. “Who do you think Catwoman is? Alice?”

  “It’s definitely not Alice,” Callum replied.

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s stood at the bar looking a lot like Lara Croft.”

  Steve turned, and sure enough, leaning against the bar was Alice. She wore simply a tight, dark brown T-shirt accentuating full rounded breasts, and shorts, with gun straps around her legs and arms, and her long, chestnut hair was woven into a plait, with a couple of tendrils at the front. In her well-manicured hands – unlike how Lara Croft’s would look like climbing caves – she held her masquerade mask. She didn’t hide her face though, so Steve didn’t pull his mask down.

  “Hello,” Alice said, giving Steve an appreciative look up and down, unnerving him. His costume was so tight he might as well be stood there in his Calvin Klein’s.

  “What can I get you, Miss Croft?” Steve said, hiding his anxiety by broadening his smile.

  “Bacardi and coke, please. Make it a double.”

  When Steve returned with her drink, Alice asked, “Where are your glasses?”

  Steve tapped his chest. They were gone. Then he remembered he’d stuck them by the till. “Oh, they were getting on my nerves with my mask.”

  “But can you see okay?”

  Yes, he had perfect vision but he couldn’t tell her that. “Just about. Probably have a headache at the end of the evening.”

  “And not through a hangover,” she giggled and sipped her drink. “You should think about wearing contact lenses.”

  Now Steve was nervous. Alice was the one person he feared would recognise him. He wanted to pull the mask down over his face, but how suspicious would that look? “I can’t bear the thought of trying to stick things in my eyes,” he said, screwing up his face.

  Another person arrived at the bar, he excused himself and Alice disappeared into the crowd. When he went to put the cash in the till, he discarded the mask and he slipped his glasses on. The mask was getting on his nerves, because it hindered his peripheral vision – he had a Catwoman to find. He’d rather tolerate the glasses, feeling the need for some sort of disguise, however flimsy. Just in case.

  Rushed off his feet all night, Steve ventured out to the reception area, where it was cooler and quieter, to collect some glasses. Hans Solo and Princess Leia were huddled together in a corner behind a small palm, embraced in a kiss, oblivious to their surroundings. Darth Vader walked by mumbling, ‘Get a room’. Steve chuckled and nodded a hello to Maxine who was covering reception. She wore her hotel uniform, and didn’t look very busy, flicking through a magazine behind the desk. By the photographs on the cover, it looked like a baking magazine, and not one that would contain Hollywood’s sexiest men.

  “You didn’t fancy this tonight?” Steve said.

  “No, it’s for you youngsters,” Maxine said, chirpily. “Besides, I’m having fun watching the shenanigans.” She subtly gestured in the direction of the kissing couple.

  Steve made the most of this time away from the bar trying to find Catwoman. He’d caught a glimpse of her earlier on the dance floor, but couldn’t get away from serving drinks at the time to get a closer look. But where was she now?

  Scanning the room, he couldn’t believe how hard it was to find one woman. But with everyone dressed as a superhero, or a Hollywood star or character, it was proving difficult. Then, he spotted her. Catwoman stood by the fireplace. Steve dumped the glasses he was carrying on a nearby table and was about to head towards her when he paused. Another character, Indiana Jones by the looks of him, joined Catwoman, giving her a glass of white wine.

  Damn it.

  What should he do? He could still go over…some empty glasses needed collecting from the mantelpiece.

  “I like your costume.” A middle-aged woman wearing a blonde wig, stepped in front of Steve, her face hidden behind an ornate masquerade mask. She was dressed as a voluptuous Marilyn Monroe, the trademark white dress plunging low to reveal her cleavage. It fitted well. “Care for the next dance, Superman?”

  She wobbled on her heels, possibly aided by too much alcohol, and Steve caught her glass, cupping her hand also. “Sorry, I’m working tonight.”

  As Marilyn stroked Steve’s hand which he had unwittingly given her, he peeked around her towards the fireplace. Catwoman was gone. Steve cursed under his breath. With a firm grip, the woman dragged him towards the dance floor.

  “You must be allowed one dance,” Marilyn cooed flirtatiously.

  “No, no, I really must get on—”

  “Oh, there you are.” To Steve’s relief, Ruby taped him on the arm. “Some idiot has dropped their pint on the dance floor. Can you go grab the mop and bucket, please?”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure, just a minute.” He turned to Marilyn, and tried to look disappointed, shrugging his shoulders apologetically as he spoke, “My boss needs me.”

  “I’ll take a rain check, sweetheart.” She seductively dragged her fingernail gently under his chin, then kissed him full on the lips. Steve’s eyes widened as he jerked away.

  “Hurry up, Bro, I don’t want someone falling over.”

  “Yes, I’m on it, Ruby,” Steve said, frustration creeping into his tone. Did she think he really wanted Marilyn hitting on him? The woman had even had the audacity to slap him on his backside as he turned away.

  While mopping the floor to dry up the spill, Steve continuously looked for Catwoman but he couldn’t find her. Where had she gone? Had she already left?

  Midnight arrived very quickly, and the band played their last song. As soon as the lead singer said ‘Good night’, the main lights were switched on as a clear sign to ask everyone to leave. There were some lingerers. Callum, Steve and the rest of the staff worked to clear away the glasses, removing the tablecloths and
stacking away tables and chairs as the band dismantled the equipment. Ruby instructed she wanted it back to normal ready for the morning.

  “Stuart, give us a hand with Alice,” Batman called. It took Steve a minute to realise he was talking to him. Brett still had his mask on – impressive. He must have been roasting under there. He held onto Alice who was unsteady on her feet. Between them, they escorted Lara Croft, to a waiting taxi she’d pre-booked.

  “Thank you, Superman,” Alice said, her palm to Steve’s cheek. “Can I be your Lois?” She planted her mouth on Steve’s, and he quickly pulled away. The kiss pleasantly surprised him. “I’d love to wake cuddled up with you tomorrow morning.”

  “Alice, you’re a little drunk,” Steve said, lightly, helping her into the taxi. “Maybe another time.”

  They watched the taxi drive out of the gates, then strolled back into the lobby.

  “Did you see where Catwoman went?” Steve asked, feeling the need to change the subject over Alice kissing him.

  Brett shook his head. “I think she left early, something about working tomorrow morning.”

  “Who is she?”

  Brett chucked. “I don’t know.”

  “Is she one of the waitresses?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Hmm…maybe she’s one of the chambermaids.” They strolled into the bar, and Brett helped clear up.

  “Hey, you’re off duty tonight, you can go home,” Steve said.

  “It’s all right, Callum’s giving me a lift home,” Brett glanced at Ruby as he spoke, “plus many hands make light work and all that. It’ll help the rest of you get home earlier too.”

  Ruby approached, wig removed and looking rosy cheeked and hot. “Hey, how’s it going? Did you enjoy yourself, Bro?” As she spoke, Brett removed his mask, also looking flushed. “Oh, it’s you, Brett,” she said.