Heart’s Masquerade
By
Tressie Lockwood
Heart’s Masquerade
Copyright © October 2014, Tressie Lockwood
Cover art by For the Muse Designs © October 2014
Formatting by Bob Houston eBook Formatting
ISBN: 978-1-939151-73-5
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Sugar and Spice Press
North Carolina, USA
www.sugarnspicepress.com
Chapter One
Niles pulled the limo to the side of the road, and Torrian ran his palms over his thighs for the millionth time. He’d done this before, and yet, his stomach always tightened just before showtime. Anticipation and nervousness came over him. He looked forward to having fun as he always did, the familiarity of the surroundings, the people, the music, even the scents. At the same time, with each passing year, he didn’t feel like he belonged or that the people wanted him there. With that thought in mind, he picked up the mask that lay on the seat next to him. Just once he’d like to walk in without it. If he did, would they turn him away or welcome him back?
“Are you sure about this, sir?” Niles asked from the driver’s seat.
Torrian glanced up and met his gaze in the rearview mirror. He forced a smile. That was a problem as well, a simple smile. More often than not over the last few years, his smiles were aimed, calculated—false. “I’m fine, Niles. Stop worrying. I’ve done this a hundred times before.”
The older man frowned in displeasure. His black leather gloves squeaked as he gripped the steering wheel in obvious frustration. “And every time it’s a bad idea, if you don’t mind my saying.”
Torrian chuckled. “You never bite your tongue, do you, Niles?”
Niles flushed. “I apologize, sir. I was out of line.”
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t hire you to blow smoke up my ass.”
“No, you hired me to drive you from point A to point B, and to sometimes handle errands for you. I will keep my mouth shut from now on, Mr. Donnelly.”
Torrian raised the mask to his head and pulled it down over his hair and face. “Somehow I seriously doubt that.” He checked the area ahead and behind the car and then reached for the door handle.
Niles tensed. “Sir, perhaps I should park and escort you. If someone realizes who you are or even if they don’t, if they attack—”
“Stop,” Torrian cut in but not without understanding. “I know the risks, but I look like everyone here in South Boston. I’m just a regular guy out to enjoy the party.”
“Every year, you come here to this party when there are plenty in safer areas and among your friends. I worry that you won’t come back.”
“That’s interesting,” Torrian said. “Every year, I think about not coming back.” Niles appeared stricken, as if he hoped Torrian was joking. Torrian offered a slight smile, but he didn’t take back what he had said. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
He touched two fingers to the edge of his mask in a swift salute, then stepped from the car. Niles called to him, but he kept moving and slammed the door. A final check that he had everything, old wallet with real ID but no credit cards, light cash, plain cell phone, nothing fancy.
He’d worn faded jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe he should have worn more of a costume than just the full-head devil mask with huge horns. Most of the men who attended the party didn’t bother over much with costumes. Some didn’t wear one at all. They came for the free food and a chance to look at the ladies who dressed in skimpy outfits. He wasn’t above admitting he liked that part, too.
Torrian thought about his clothes and how he normally wore suits, both to the office and to social engagements. Tailor-made suits, he thought with amusement. What would the people here think if they knew? That he was vain? He supposed in a way he was, but he had bought clothing straight off the rack like everyone else once upon a time. Acquaintances in the world of finance had suggested a particular tailor. He’d thought it pompous and wasteful, but again and again he’d heard how well the clothing fit, how comfortable. From a teenager into adulthood, he’d had to deal with ill-fitting clothing because quite frankly he wasn’t perfect. His shoulders were too broad, and the way they measured up with his torso and biceps, well, he figured when he had the money, why not try a tailor. For one set of clothing that felt right. Now, he admitted if only to himself, he was spoiled. Every suit in his closet was tailor-made and the fit—Andreas was worth every exorbitant dollar he extracted from Torrian’s hide.
A cold wind stirred around him, and Torrian flipped his jacket collar up, then huddled deeper into the material. As he moved along a street with tight houses, all lined up in a row along the block, a giggling couple outpaced him. Upon seeing a lone devil, neither appeared surprised or repulsed.
Torrian relaxed a little more. He recalled what Niles had said in the car, that “his friends” were having parties where he would be safer and no doubt fit in better. Contrary to what any of these so-called friends knew, he had been born and raised not far from where he walked now. He knew these streets as well as he knew himself. Niles liked to say he no longer belonged to this world and didn’t fit in. Perhaps he was right, but Torrian recalled when they first had this disagreement.
“You’re a respected businessman in the financial district,” Niles had argued. “You rub elbows with important people.”
At first Torrian had grown angry. His chauffeur had no right to tell him where he belonged, and the only reason he hadn’t fired the man on the spot was because he had been with him for three years at that point. Niles knew his routine. That and the fact that he genuinely liked the older man. He’d sighed then, accepting that no one understood. “These are important people, Niles,” he had said, indicating the people that weren’t born to privilege. “Don’t forget it.”
“Of course. I apologize.”
Niles had been shamed and come to know he would never change Torrian’s resolution to return each Halloween, of all times. However, each year, he kept trying, and Torrian understood he wouldn’t change the man’s views. Torrian did what he wanted to, and he would probably continue even as it brought him no satisfaction whatsoever.
He stood outside the huge red brick building with the white stone arch above its entrance. Partygoers in costume poured through the doors, and he frowned, wondering. Did it seem like more of them wore costumes this year? Maybe it was his imagination.
He stepped through the entryway into the foyer, and right away was struck with the scent of hot cocoa, cinnamon, and pumpkin. Real jack-o’-lanterns decorated two red-cloth covered tables. More covered the walls, and from the ceiling hung wads of cobwebs and black spiders. So far, whoever had decorated for the party had gone far beyond what anyone had done in previous years. He was impressed.
A couple of guys bumped Torrian from behind and brushed past. Torrian recognized the redhead who didn’t bother excusing himself or acknowledging Torrian’s existence. “Damn, these decorations are wicked awesome! I knew it would be different this year.”
The redhead’s friend agreed. “Bet it was Jaz who did it.”
Redhead swore. “She thinks she’s one of us. How much you want to bet I’ll have to hit the packy later?”
“Hey!”
Both men spun around to face the sexy kitten who stood just inside the foyer. Torrian looked, too. She was a mocha-colored beauty with long, dark hair and big brown eyes. He judged her to be no more than five foot five or six, but what she lost in height, she made up in vibrancy the way she pinned her gaze on the two men.
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br /> Torrian didn’t approach but studied the woman. Small breasts, less than a handful, a semiflat belly, but round hips, and from what he could glimpse a nice ass. She waggled a finger at the men. “We have a temporary license for beer and liquor tonight, and if you’re coming to the party, Billy Montgomery, you’re going to buy your alcohol here to benefit the children, not the corner packy.”
Billy, that was his name, Torrian recalled. He’d been two years behind Torrian in school.
“I know, I know, Jaz,” Billy said.
So this woman was Jaz. Torrian would have remembered her if he’d ever met her. Tonight, she and another woman manned the table, selling last-minute tickets to the party and collecting those that had been purchased earlier. As the line dwindled ahead of Torrian, he couldn’t help staring at Jaz. She’d worn a cat costume, common but oh so sexy on her. The material hardly covered much other than her more delicate parts. She’d paired the animal-print-and-black bra and panties with fishnet black thigh-highs, hooked to garters. A fuzzy tail swished back and forth as if it were real, and on her feet she wore five-inch heels.
Torrian had met plenty of beautiful African American women he wouldn’t mind sampling, but she seized his attention and wouldn’t let go. He drew up to the table and held out his ticket. She offered him a bright smile and tilted her head to the side. “You skimped on the costume.”
He forced himself not to stare at her body up close. “I’m sorry. Not many dress for these things.”
The beauty held up a finger. “That was before I took over planning. If you look around, you’ll see even the diehards are dressed.” She leaned toward him, and he got an up close and personal view of the swell of her small but perfect breasts. “We’re giving away a great prize. Now, to make up for disappointing me, you’re going to have to give a lot.”
He blinked. For an instant, he thought she knew who he was. Then common sense returned. The yearly party at this community center benefited the various other charity events in the area and the less fortunate who couldn’t afford memberships at the city-sponsored community center.
“Uh, of course,” he agreed.
“Good.” She flashed another smile at him.
Torrian started to move away, but then he stopped. “What’s your name?”
She eyed him up and down, and he felt his cock twitch, hoping she didn’t notice. “Jazara Crane, but everyone calls me Jaz. Nice to meet you…”
“Tor,” he provided and hurried on before she could demand a last name. He’d been foolish to ask hers if he hadn’t had a fake name ready to give in return. The Donnelly name was well-known, if not for him at least for his hotheaded cousin Kenny. He didn’t care to let anyone here recognize him. A fun night among real people where he remained anonymous and then it was back home until next year. That was how it always was, and he wouldn’t change it now.
Torrian moved farther into the center and discovered Jaz hadn’t lied. Witches, vampires, ghosts, all the usuals, and even more exotic costumers cluttered the place. In fact, he found the men who had shown with just a mask like he did were in the minority. Had Jaz influenced so many in what was obviously a short time? After all, he had been here for the Halloween party last year, and she hadn’t. Who was she?
Torrian traversed through the building a few times, starting out in the main hall where the dancers convened and music blared through the speakers. Another room held tables of food and drinks. Someone had unlocked the gym so that there were demons, priests, and prostitutes shooting hoops.
He shook his head at the crowded halls and the lines to the bathrooms, and headed back to the dance hall. By then, Jaz occupied a corner, surrounded by a group of men, whom she tossed smiles at and seemed to have wrapped around her finger. Another woman, who had stood at the door with her, popped in front of him.
“Hello, you forgot your flyer,” she said.
Torrian blinked the beauty from his gaze and focused on the one in front of him. She gave him a speculative look, but he ignored it and took the flyer. “Thanks.” Barely scanning the write-up about the center and giving to benefit its programs, he returned his attention to Jaz. He frowned. Surely, her boyfriend would have a problem with this much attention from the opposite sex. Maybe he was stupid enough not to come. He was a fool if he let her leave the house dressed as she was without protection.
Torrian left the room once more to grab a beer. Then he returned and leaned against the wall. To his surprise and pleasure, Jaz approached him. A couple hangers-on started to follow, but he pinned them with a narrowed glare, and they backed off. Jaz tilted her chin up to him when she arrived and chuckled. “Wow, that look was fierce, especially with the devil head. Maybe your costume is right on the money after all.”
He shrugged. “Your boyfriend shouldn’t have let you out dressed like that.”
She smirked. “Oh we’re going there right away, huh?”
“Didn’t you wonder about my wife letting me go like this?”
She burst out laughing. “She should have made you put on a costume and come along for the fun.”
“She neglects me. Maybe you could show me a good time.”
“My boyfriend would rip your unmentionables off.”
He froze, staring down at her. Such a coy expression, lips parted, eyes wide. “I didn’t realize…”
She touched his forearm, and a spark of something shot through his system. “I’m joking. No boyfriend right now. Too busy.”
“Hmm.” He tried hiding his relief, not for fear of being mutilated but having to turn away from her. No, I’m not getting involved with a woman down here. “I’m not married, unfortunately. No girlfriend either. That outfit though.”
She spun for him, and the tail waved. Room in his jeans lessened, and he was thankful for lower lighting.
“I know, right? Sassy. I admit I did it to butter up the guys, get them to open the wallets a little more.”
He blinked at her. So honest about her motives.
“I’d rather wear something scary,” she admitted, taking him by surprise again.
“Seriously?”
“Yes!” She held her hands up. “Picture this—a mask that’s like a dead clown, but around the mouth and chin, it’s all black extending down onto my neck. Around it, there’s a mouth with jagged teeth. So it looks like my mouth is a black cavern of death.”
Torrian raised an eyebrow at the petite beauty although she couldn’t see it behind his mask. “You like horror?”
“Love it. I watch horror movies almost every night when I get downtime. Anything scary comes on the big screen, and I’m there. What about you?”
“I like chick flicks.”
She laughed. “You do not.”
“No, I’m kidding.” He liked teasing her, and she seemed to feel the same. “You wouldn’t like the ones I watch, but I can do an occasional horror movie.”
Her expression said she was skeptical. He didn’t mind her thinking he watched girlie shows. He knew himself well enough and was used to others judging him.
“Dance with me?” he offered, watching her face and the way she swayed to the music. Her face was the safer place than those hips.
“I have duties to perform, sir, which you are keeping me from.” She started away, waving over her shoulder. Disappointed, Torrian sighed, but he found another woman willing to dance and enjoyed time with her for a little while. He replaced her with another and then another, all with names escaping him the second they were uttered. He kept up the practice of calling himself Tor, although he had never used the nickname. As a kid, most people happened to call him Donnelly. In his current crowd of friends and associations, everyone spoke his full name of Torrian.
After Torrian lost sight of Jaz, he wandered into the hall and walked down to the gym. A group of men comprised of Billy, his friend, and another familiar face argued over the basketball hoop. Torrian leaned against the wall and half listened to the raised voices and the echo of the music playing in the distance. One of the men
glanced toward him and frowned. The others looked too. Torrian sighed. He’d been recognized. The tallest of the men with hair as dark as his broke from the group and strode toward him. As he approached, Torrian noted the man had put on a few pounds since last year. His green leprechaun costume appeared to have seen many parties before this one. So his cousin had fallen victim to Jaz’s wiles as well.
“What are you doing here?” Kenny growled under his breath.
Torrian didn’t stir. “I come here every year. Do you have a problem with it?”
“Of course! You don’t belong around here anymore. Go back to back to your mansion and your uppity friends.”
Torrian straightened. “I believe this is a charity event, and anyone can come who purchases a ticket.”
Kenny got in his face. Torrian knew the scowl had intimidated many men because of his cousin’s infamous temper. “We don’t need or want your money.”
“Hey, Donnelly,” Billy called. “You okay?” Torrian almost answered. Kenny had been two and half years his junior, so growing up to distinguish between them, everyone called him by his first name.
Kenny sneered at Torrian. “Yeah, I’m all set. Just thought I saw someone I know.”
“Yeah?”
“No, just another Masshole.” Kenny almost spat the derogatory term and spun away to rejoin his friends.
Torrian let him go. He didn’t come to fight, nor did he ever take pleasure in arguing with his cousin. Kenny had never forgiven him for finding a way out and making a better life for himself. Torrian was done feeling like he needed to apologize for it. Maybe he didn’t belong, and that was fine. He had tonight, and that had been enough for years now.
Chapter Two
“Who are you looking for, Jaz?”
Jazara jumped and spun around to face her sister, Yasmine. “Who me? Nobody,” she lied. In truth she’d forgotten about work for the umpteenth time when her mind wandered to thoughts of the man she’d met earlier. She couldn’t tell what he looked like behind the mask, but from those shoulders, the height, and the sexy, deep voice, he had something going on. She wanted to know more about Tor, like where he’d turned up from. She’d been back in the area for almost a year, and she had thrown herself into work at her full-time job at the outreach center, with a chunk of her time card allocated to the programs at the community center. She absolutely loved helping people, and since she had grown up in an area not far from this one, she gave it her all.
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