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I look up, and I’m there.
Lyons Court, named after the club and the family who owns it.
The Lyons Pride façade is something to look at with its grand columns and arched windows up a series of wide, shallow steps, flanked by marble lions. It’s almost like a slightly smaller replica of the New York Library.
Luxurious black cars and limos are already starting to pull into the round cul-de-sac, stopping in front of the majestic nightclub. Guests of tonight’s masquerade.
“Sonia?” Nate’s voice in my ear pulls me out of my reverie.
I take a deep breath. “Goodbye, Nate. Please don’t call me again.”
Nate starts balking before I hang up the phone and put it into my clutch.
Lifting my head high, I put on a smile, and do my best model walk up to the front of the Lyons Pride.
Thank god, my job provides me with a stipend to afford a more appropriate wardrobe. And given that my first time here is at this masquerade, I splurged on a white off-the-shoulder number with a high slit up the side that was a bargain on sale.
Still! This is more than I’ve spent on anything in a long time. And way more than I should.
However, amidst the entering guests, I feel like everyone can see how cheap I am.
The dress might be expensive, but the heels are old favorites from DSW, and the clutch is a complimentary makeup bag from the Estée Lauder counter.
I follow the train of a woman whose dress seems to be emblazoned with Swarovski crystals up the stairs and inside. My jaw almost drops at the foyer alone.
There’s an incredible crystal chandelier over the entryway that looks like it’s crying tears of glass and to the left is a rounded staircase leading up to a second level.
This is like no nightclub I’ve ever been to.
To the right is a table full of masquerade masks. They look almost too beautiful to touch.
Each person who passes picks one up, some taking the time to choose one, some with abandon. And just like that, their faces become ensconced in fantasy.
When it is my turn at the table, I peruse the masks, taking my time. I want to be concealed, but I also still want to be beautiful. No trolls or dragons for me.
My eyes settle on a piece with white feathers and sparkles with an elegant beak fitted for the nose.
I take it, examining it for a moment. My heart fills with a strange amount of love for the mask. That’s how I know it’s mine.
A male voice comes from the top of the stairs. “Ah, the lady of the hour!”
My eyes follow the sound to the man I recognize from all our Zoom meetings. Farley Axford.
He’s…smaller in person. He came across as larger than life, or maybe I was intimidated before since he held my future in his hands.
Farley navigates the stairs as easily as Fred Astaire and comes to meet me. “Sonia Hill, how are you, darling?”
He kisses me on both cheeks and then eyes my mask. “Ah! The swan. Good choice. Goes with your–” He gasps as he takes me in. “Stunning outfit! Do a turn for me.”
I do so, trying to ignore any other eyes that might be looking my way.
“You look divine.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should choose one or…”
“Of course, you should, why wouldn’t you?”
I try to smile, but I’m not sure it doesn’t come off as a grimace instead. “I’m working tonight, aren’t I?”
