The Black Chapel

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The Black Chapel Page 6

by Marilyn Cruise


  “My mother is a very straight-forward woman. She can also smell a phony a mile away. And if you waiver about anything for even a millisecond, she’ll know it’s a set-up,” Michael says.

  “No pressure there,” I say, my pulse rising exponentially.

  Michael parks in the parking garage and he turns to me after turning off the engine. “You will do fine. If you find yourself in a pickle, just excuse yourself and say you need to use the restroom. Or kiss me. I’ll take the clue.”

  I nod and swallow. I envision Michael’s mom as a mind-reader and a control freak who wants to meddle in her son’s life. My hands are starting to feel clammy all of a sudden, and now I wonder what the hell I’m actually doing here. This will never work. I’m not a good liar.

  Michael takes my hand and squeezes it. “You will do great, dear.”

  I smile at him. “Dear sounds so old. Can’t we just call each other honey, instead?”

  “No, that sounds even older. How about babe?” He smiles.

  I give him a look. “In front of your mother?”

  “Sure, why not?” he asks.

  “Fine. She’s your mother. Babe it is.”

  The hospital walls are pasty white and the smell of hand-sanitizer and linen hits my nostrils when I enter. When we arrive at his mother’s room on the sixth floor, the curtains are drawn. It’s dim. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata is streaming from a CD player.

  Michael walks up to his mother, who has a leopard print eye mask covering her eyes. He shakes her gently and she removes the mask.

  A big smile brightens her tired face when she sees it’s him. “Michael.” Her voice is raspy, and I get the feeling this woman has been a chain smoker her whole life. “Please get me out of this place,” she complains. Her hair is perfectly styled, shoulder-length wavy and silver.

  Are there hospital stylists? I wonder.

  “Just a few more tests and you can go home.” Michael hugs her. “Mother, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” He looks at me, his eyes warm and welcoming, and I almost believe he loves me. “This is Scarlett, my soon-to-be fiancé. Scarlett, I’d like you to meet my mother, Diane.”

  My heart is pounding against my ribs. I hope she’ll buy our sham, but then I feel a pang of guilt. I’m a liar! Smiling, I approach her. “Hi Mrs. Manning, pleased to meet you.” I hold my hand out, but she doesn’t take it.

  Mrs. Manning does not seem pleased at all. She looks bewildered and looks back at Michael. “A new fiancé?” Her eyes narrow considerably, and I can tell she’s thinking Michael’s trying to fool her. “Pleased to meet you, too, dear,” she says, not looking at me. “Michael, may I have a word with you. Alone?” Her tone is harsh, angry even.

  “Mother, I hardly think this is the appropriate time. I think whatever you’d like to say, you can say in front of Scarlett. We’re coming to ask for your blessing, and would like to be married next week,” Michael says.

  I smile feebly. This will never work. What was I thinking? Michael didn’t warn me she’d be this obstinate. But then again, what the hell was I thinking? I should have put the pieces together myself and known this would happen. I mean, she’d have to be extremely gullible to believe our set-up.

  “All right, then.” Diane coughs up a lung and sits up a little straighter in bed.

  Now I can see Michael’s concern for his mother in his eyes, and it touches my heart.

  “Can I get you something, mother?” Michael says, that helpless little boy coming out. So he is vulnerable after all.

  “No, Dear. I’m dying as it is.” Diane takes his hand in hers, possessively, and then turns to me, her hazel wrinkled eyes unwelcoming. “Did you know Michael just broke up with his ex-fiancé?”

  I nod.

  “Mother,” Michael intervenes.

  Diane holds up her hand as if to stop him. “I think you are the rebound relationship, and though the situation of my untimely death is extenuating, I don’t think he should rush into a marriage just to gain his inheritance.”

  “I’m not asking for your permission, Mother, only your blessing. We will get married whether or not you like it,” Michael says.

  But what if she doesn’t approve and gives the money away to charity anyway? I think. This will never work. There are too many holes in this plan.

  Diane frowns and lets go of Michael’s hand. “Always so determined, my young Michael. But always so foolish. And I won’t allow you to dupe me into giving up the family inheritance.”

  “Mother!” Michael’s eyebrows furrow and his eyes grow dark.

  “You are very lovely, though, Scarlett. I can see why he proposed to you, if that’s what he actually did,” Diane says.

  “I love him,” I say and look at Michael. The words, though surprising to me, don’t feel as false as I had thought.

  Michael smiles at me. “I love you, too, babe.”

  And at his words, I melt and smile. If only he really meant it.

  “Well, we’ll see,” Mrs. Manning says, her hazel eyes turning intense and golden as she studies me.

  “I hate to cut the visit short, but Scarlett has to get to work,” Michael says.

  “Oh, where do you work?” Diane asks.

  “Currently I’m a waitress,” I say, wishing now I had picked something more prestigious.

  “I started out as a waitress myself before I got into Real Estate. It’s a very stressful job,” Diane says.

  Michael comes over to me and takes my hand in his. “Thank you mother for letting us see you. I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.”

  “It was a pleasure to finally meet you,” I say.

  “If you truly are engaged, I’m sure I’ll see you soon again,” Diane says, her face emotionless.

  We go back to the car and Michael opens the car door for me.

  “I thought the meeting with my mother went rather well,” Michael says, right as he gets in the car.

  “I thought it went horrible,” I say, still feeling Mrs. Manning’s judgmental eyes on me. “She’s so on to me.”

  “She’s not on to you, and if it would have gone horrible, she would not have been somewhat open to the idea,” Michael says.

  “She was open?” I ask, wondering if we had been in the same room talking with the same person.

  “Yes, she said: We’ll see. That means she’ll be keeping her eyes open. The one problem with my mother is that she is an exceptional people reader,” Michael says.

  “Couldn’t you have warned me about that before I met her?” I say.

  Michael takes a deep breath. “I only thought it would have frightened you more.”

  “Well, Mr. Manning, I like to be informed about what I’m heading into.” I scowl at him.

  “You did great. Besides, you didn’t think a one and a half billion dollar contract would come without its challenges, now did you?” Michael says.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat, thinking, yes, actually I did. “Fine,” I say. “But from now on, will you please just be upfront with me so I can prepare myself mentally?”

  “Will do,” Michael says. We’re back at my house now. Michael gets out of the car, and opens my door. “May I come inside for a moment?”

  My heart ceases to beat for a second. “Sure.”

  “There is one more thing we need to go over.”

  “All right,” I say, now very curious. We head inside and I close the door behind me.

  He sits down on the brown leather coach and after I take off my coat, I join him.

  “My mother will most likely hire a detective to follow you around,” Michael says.

  “What?” My eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of their sockets. What about the strip club? Oh no! If she has me followed there, he’ll find out for sure, and the whole damn deal will be off. I consider telling Michael about it. No, I can’t, I decide. I need to find a way around this.

  “I’m not sure she will, but it could happen. My mother is very thorough and she trusts no one, not even me,” Michael
says.

  “Have you given her reason to trust you? I mean, we are trying to deceive her,” I say.

  Michael’s lips squeeze together. “Are you telling me you want out?”

  “No,” I say.

  He reaches out and grabs my hand, his eyes intense now.

  I swallow and lick my lower lip. Oh, wow. His eyes are so enticing, his touch so stimulating.

  “Since she might hire a detective, we’ll have to step it up a notch and be a little more affectionate in public.”

  I try not to smile too broadly. Holy crap. Can I do this? Oh absolutely! “Fine,” I say, as casually as I can muster with my heart in my suddenly very dry throat.

  “Good.” He pats me on the knee and stands up. “Can I meet you for breakfast tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “And we should probably spend the night at each others houses at least a couple of times this next week. Do you feel comfortable with that?” Michael says.

  “Well that depends,” I say in a slightly sexy, inviting voice.

  He’s taken aback, it looks like, and then his eyes darken. “I won’t take advantage of you, you know.”

  I flush. But that’s what I want you to do, I think, but I smile and say, “I know. I trust you.”

  He smiles. Oh those dimples!

  I let him out the front door. But instead of saying good bye right away, he pulls me outside with him and then pushes me up against the wall, his hands around my waist.

  “Stand. Very. Still,” he says, and I hold my breath. He moves so close to me, his nose grazing mine, and then he kisses me lightly on the lips. Pulling back just enough, he says, “Sorry if I took you off guard. My mother could be watching, and I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to show her how very much in love we are.” Then he kisses me passionately, his tongue gliding into my mouth. I’m beside myself, and feel very hot everywhere, especially between my legs.

  He pulls away and then he’s off. “Tomorrow. Nine o’clock, babe!” He waves as he’s walking away, leaving me in a pile of ashes, desperately yearning for him to continue his sudden assault on me and quench the raging fire he has started.

  10

  Driving to work at The Black Chapel I really hope Michael’s not there. I decide I’m going to have to wear even more make-up and my heaviest masks so he won’t recognize me, in the event he shows up here. Getting to work is a little tricky, since I don’t want a possible detective stalker of Mrs. Manning to follow me and find out where I work. First I park three blocks away, then I sneak into a small grocery store, slip out the back door and take the back streets to work.

  The second I walk in the door, Laila approaches me. “We need to talk.” She grabs me by the elbow and takes me into her over-stuffed office. “Sit down,” she says.

  Shit, does she know about Michael and I? I’m nervous.

  “Mr. Manning is being very persistent in asking for Samantha’s information. I don’t want to make him wait any longer. I need to know your decision today,” Laila says, sounding like she’s restraining her voice from yelling at me.

  “Oh,” I say, extremely relieved that she doesn’t know my secret. “I’ve thought about it and I don’t think I’d like to give him my information. It’s just not the right time for me right now.”

  Obviously, Laila had back up plans for me. “Would you consider meeting him in the Sanctuary at least?”

  The Sanctuary is the private room where, though there is no sex involved, there is a whole lot of other stuff going on. I’ve never been in the Sanctuary, and up until now, I had promised myself I’d never enter.

  He would surely recognize me if he got me in there so close, kissing… touching… fondling… I can se in my mind’s eye the whole disaster unfolding -my mask slipping off, him recognizing my kisses..—I feel my blood go to my head.

  “Well?” Laila looks impatient. “I haven’t got all day, Scarlett. Let’s do this, shall me?”

  “Can I keep my clothes on?” I ask.

  “I’ll leave that up to you,” Laila huffs.

  “And my mask, can I leave my mask on?”

  “Also up to you.” Laila props her elbows on the desk and folds her arms. “Well?”

  I hesitate, but then I think of his hands on my body, him wanting me. I’ll just have to be extra careful to not be myself when I’m in the Sanctuary with Michael. I spit out a yes.

  “Thank you. I know this is probably beyond your comfort level, but I can guarantee you, it will mean a whole other level of living and income for you,” Laila says.

  “And for you, too,” I say, lifting my right eyebrow.

  “Yes,” Laila says dryly. She stands up, and locates her clipboard. “He’s already here waiting for you. Do your first number, Angel of Mercy, and I’ll cancel the rest of your numbers so you can be with Mr. Manning. He wants you in the Angel costume.”

  I’m panicking now. So soon? “Aren’t you going to train me first?” I ask. Normally there is a one-week training period for all girls entering the Sanctuary.

  “No time.” Laila slams the door behind her and the Christmas bell wreath jingles. She opens the door again and says, “When the lights go up in the Sanctuary, your time is up.” She shuts the door again.

  Oh, dear. What have I done? He’ll recognize me, I’m sure. I haven’t even had time to process this. Ok, I’ll have to dim the lights sufficiently and keep my distance. Yeah, right, my mind says. But I’ll use my stage voice and apply a couple of other tricks that might work. Maybe he won’t recognize me. Oh, this is very bad.

  In the dressing room, when I’m getting ready to perform, I spray on a different perfume than I normally wear—Anne’s. I insert purple colored contact lenses and do a heavy-duty make-up job.

  “I hear you have a private meeting?” Anne, wearing her Naughty Little Elf costume, says and sits down next to me.

  I break down. “What do I do? He’ll recognize me, I’m sure of it.”

  “No he won’t. Just act differently. Use your angel voice and you’ll be fine. Trust me. I’ve done it a million times.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “I’m starting to get confused.” I huff. “And Laila didn’t even train me yet.”

  She turns to me. “Honey, here are the rules of the Sanctuary: Don’t be yourself. Don’t let yourself fall for this man. It will only end in heartbreak for you, so keep your professional distance. Just go with the flow, and never, ever let your guard down. Got it?”

  I frown.

  “You haven’t already fallen for him, have you?” Anne asks.

  “No,” I say. “But I—” I stop. I can’t explain it. I really, really like Michael, and I can’t get enough of him.

  “It will catch up to you, Scarlett. You’re playing too many games to keep things straight. Maybe you should just get it over with and tell him who you are?” Anne says.

  “I can’t! He might pull the deal, and I really need that money, or my dad won’t get chemotherapy and I’ll lose my parents’ house.” I feel completely overwhelmed, like my life is teetering on the head of a needle.

  “Well, would losing the house be so bad? I mean, you are starting to make a lot of cash here, and you could move into an apartment. Then you could save up some money for your dad’s treatments. If you needed to save even more money, you could stay with me,” Anne says.

  “My father built that house with his own hands. I’d do almost anything to not lose my family’s home. And besides, my dad needs treatment way sooner than I can save up to it,” I say.

  “But think about the facts. Take the emotion out of it. The mortgage is killing you. Wouldn’t you feel so much better starting fresh?” Anne says.

  I scowl. “No.” Though starting fresh does sound heavenly.

  “You’re up in two, Scarlett! Now get your head out of your ass!” Laila yells.

  “We’ll talk later,” I say to Anne and head for the stage.

  Michael is waiting for me at the back of the audience. He sits up a little taller when
I take the stage. His eyes are burning with desire, and I feel the heat created between us all the way across the room. Why do I feel so sexy when I know he’s watching me dance?

  All the while I’m dancing, I can’t keep my eye off him and can’t stop thinking about what he’ll do to me once he gets me inside the Sanctuary. Holy Heaven. What will I do? I finish my dance and the nearly full room applauds. Making my way down the stairs, I see Michael standing, waiting for me. His expression is hard to read in the dark, but the excitement between us is unmistakable.

  Laila is waiting next to him, and when I arrive, she leads us in to the Sanctuary. I can hardly stand the anticipation.

  “Mr. Manning has requested a thirty minute session, Samantha,” Laila says.

  “Please keep the lights low,” I whisper to Laila and she nods.

  We enter the red and white room and Laila closes the heavy satin curtain. The lights dim even further and I feel more at ease. Suddenly we’re alone, and my heart starts racing. Michael lays his overcoat across the red velour chaise lounges.

  “Would you like to have a seat, Mr. Manning?” I say, gesturing to the white leather circular couch. I’ve never been in this room alone with a man before, and I remember telling Laila that I never wanted to when I had started working here. It was just not a boundary I felt comfortable crossing. But now that I’m here, all I feel is excitement to be alone with Michael.

  Michael heads over to the bar and pours himself a vodka on the rocks. “Would you like one?”

  “Yes, please.” I desperately need a drink, because my nerves are totally shot. Not only am I in a room with Michael alone, and he wants me, I have to keep my façade believable so he doesn’t figure out that I’m not only Samantha, but also Scarlett.

  He hands me my drink and I swallow it down, wondering if he hires strippers like this a lot.

  “More?” he asks.

  I shake my head. If I allow myself to get too tipsy, I might not be able to keep up appearances.

  He sits down on the couch and looks me in the eyes. “The first moment I saw you, I knew you were my angel.”

 

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