Milo ...A Night At The Opera

          By Pattie Lawler         

           

           

            Fanny was eager attention itself as the limo pulled up behind the Metropolitan Opera House. Milo stepped from the car and spun back to offer Albany a hand out. She excused herself, saying she would be right back and hurried for the stage door.

            “Harry,” she called as she ran, and the guard pulled the door open without comment. Streaking into the dark interior, she paused only long enough to collect her messages before stopping the passing stage manager.

            “I need three tickets for—”

            “See Stacey, she’s got ‘em.”

            “Where is she?”

            “Not my turn to watch her. Try the lobby.”

            She might as well try the moon. Spinning, she turned back to the house guard, sure that if anyone knew where Stacey was, Harry would.

            In no time, Albany was back in the warm limo, heading for the Westside and an early dinner. “I left three tickets at the box office for you all.”

            “Do you sing?” Fanny demanded, her eyes wide.

            Albany nodded. “Not well enough for record contracts, but I get by.”

            “What are we seeing?” Milo asked, smiling down at his niece.

            “Der Rosenkavalier.”

            “Ah. And your role?”

            Albany grinned as she turned away.

 

<0>

 

            It was closing on midnight when Simon shouldered a path for Milo and Fanny through the backstage crush. Albany met them at her dressing room door.

            “Uncle Milo said it would have been gauche if we had thrown flowers to you,” Fanny murmured as she clung to Milo’s arm. “But they always do in the movies.”

            “I reminded Fanny that movies aren’t real life.” He adjusted his grip on his niece, helping her remain upright as she fought to stay awake.

            “The roses you sent are magnificent: thank you all.” Albany gestured to the vase of long-stem, yellow roses on her dressing table. “I’d kiss you, Fanny, but I’m inches thick in grease paint.”

            “You can kiss me tomorrow…when you’re not a man.” Her voice trailed away, a laced-covered hand covering a yawn. Simon offered to relieve Milo of his charge, pointing out the likelihood of jetlag. He thanked Albany for the performance and said he would wait with Fanny in the car.

            “May I drive you home, Octavian?” Milo asked, closing the door on the backstage din.

            Albany giggled as she pulled the blonde wig off. “Thank you, you’re sweet, but it’d be too annoying. I’ll let you take me as far as the PATH, if you don’t mind?”

            “I don’t mind going to Jersey.”

            “But to then have to come back?” She shook her head and unscrewed a jar of cold crème.  “PATH, please.”

            He laughed as he moved to her open closet. “At that point, I’m practically in Jersey City.”

“I’m trying to spare you! You should thank me, not argue. And besides, you don’t owe me any more. You bought dinner, remember?”

            Milo nodded, inspecting several costumes. “You make a convincing young man in that outfit. Fanny wasn’t persuaded until you sang.”

“Thank you.”

“Who does your costuming?”

            “For this production? Diana Fyrst. Why? See something to add to your collection?”

            “Yes.”

            Albany stopped applying cold crème and looked at him in the mirror. “Seriously?”

            Without looking at her, he nodded.

            “Well…when I’m done, we can track her down.”

            “It can wait until tomorrow,” he murmured absently, sliding his hand down a costume sleeve before lifting it from the rack. He appeared totally engrossed by the weight of the heavily beaded dress.

            Albany watched him, torn between accepting—and seeing him again—or ridding herself of the man who nearly cost her her life…twice. Her gaze rolled off him to her cold crème and “medium male” complexion. Her fingertips renewed the small circles needed to ensure that the saturation of waxy stage makeup wasn’t permanent. She wondered if he would come up with a further gambit to see her again if she did insist they see the costume mistress tonight.

            It wasn't worth testing his resolve.

            “Lunch?” Her heart hammered against her rib cage, fearful of the implications should he say breakfast.

            “That would be perfect.”

            Drawing in a deep breath, she stomped on disappointment.

 

<0>

 

            Dragging up a slush-covered Mercer Street from the PATH, Albany could only think of how cold her feet were and of being asleep. Performances always left her drained, but tonight felt unusual.

It isn’t every day a sword tries to kill me, she thought with a wry smile.

            “Albany Wendel?”

            Senses suddenly alert, Albany frowned at the man who blocked her path. “I’m sorry, what?”

            “Are you Albany Wendel?”

            For a fleeting second, she thought to lie, but the siren song of exhaustion was too persuasive. “Wha’do you want?”

            “Our employer would like a word with you.”

            She felt a looming presence behind her and glanced at her reflection in the nearest apartment window. There was indeed a hulking man an arm’s length away.

            “What about?” She reached for her purse and the mace within.

            “Don’t move,” he man behind her growled.

            Something hard and suggestive of a muzzle pressed between her shoulder blades.

            “Just talk to the boss, and we’ll walk away,” the first man repeated, his tone sincere. He held out a cell phone.

            Albany scowled, weighed her options, and took the phone.

            The speaker had a slight Spanish lilt as he apologized for the inconvenience of this impromptu meeting. He went on to question her closely about Milo’s whereabouts.

It took no effort to deny any knowledge.

            “He talked the whole ride. I really didn’t notice where we were. But it was one of those famous hotels you see on TV...like the Ritz. And I remember being near the park.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t accurate either.

            “Was he alone?”

            “No, he had a driver. A big guy. I think his name was Simon.” The truth on the inconsequential, she hoped, would strengthen her lies.

            “And how is it that you came to meet him.”

            “He ran into me. Literally. Knocked me to the floor in an antique shop.”

            “Did he say why he was there?”

            “No. I was looking at Victorian scrap, but it was one of those indoor boutique sort of places on the Westside. With different vendors. Like they do a little of everything.”

            “Why did you leave with him?”

             “He said he was mortified at having pushed me down and wanted to make it up to me. I let him buy me dinner.”

            “You have done an admirable job of betraying very little, Miss Wendel.”

            “And so have you, Mr. Scaredy-cat,” Albany snapped. “I’m an opera singer. I recognize professional jealousy a mile away.”

            “And yet you risk the unknown for a man you don’t know?”

            “I know enough about Mr. Scarlet to know that he would never stoop to intimidation to find out anything about you!”

            “Touché, Miss Wendel. And now, I bid you good night, but you must understand that I will be watching.”

            “And you can be darn sure that should I be fortunate enough to see Mr. Scarlet again, I will tell him everything.” She snapped the phone closed and slapped it against the man’s chest. “Now go away.”

 <0> 

            It wasn’t until the next day that horror drenched her; the feel of cold metal between her shoulder blades finally found her heart.

She was uncharacteristically late for pre-matinee rehearsal but her pallor seemed to keep recriminations at bay. The director met her gaze with the thought Understudy clearly written on his face. Albany forced herself to smile, offering a nod of assurance as she slipped into her dressing room.

Sitting at her dressing table, she crumpled her several messages into a single ball. With each one, her emotional seesaw teetered between elation that it wasn’t from Milo, canceling their date, and fear of what would happen next if she did see him. Her gaze rose to the slowly blooming yellow roses and then to her closet, reflected in the mirror, where he stood and stroked her costumes.

            Her mouth felt stuffed with sand as she threw the messages out and uncapped a bottle of water. Taking a long drink, she tried to wash away trepidation.

            Looking in the mirror, she set aside the water and reflexively reached for makeup. She studied her features as she applied a layer of moisturizer. The train ride home last night had been full of thoughts of Milo; what to wear to lunch; what he and Fanny thought of her performance...and now none of it mattered. She had been accosted on the very threshold of her home. Attacked by a magical sword and held at gunpoint mere hours later.

            All because of Milo Scarlet.

            Replaying the event in her mind, she was convinced that whoever Milo’s rival was, he wouldn’t have hurt her; she detected no malice in his voice, and voices were her life. But the shock of it all engulfed her. Morbid fascination made her watch as her tear-swollen eyes deepened to pink then red. As tears dripped down her cheeks, the knock that she knew heralded Milo’s arrival finally came.

            And she was powerless to move.

            After the second knock, she heard someone confirm that she was indeed within, watched the doorknob turn and then met the smiling eyes of Milo in the mirror. Concern erased his grin, and he raced to her side.

            “Albany! Good God, what’s happened?”

            She tried to force her jaw to work, to answer him, but no sound issued forth.

            His gaze raced around the room, paused on the bed, and he leaned forward, one arm across her back and one under her knees. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and gently deposited her on the bed.

            “Dear Albany,” he murmured as he worked the blanket out from under her, “I’m convinced that something of my instigation has occurred, and I’m sincerely sorry. I understand you’re in shock, but I will not leave your side until you send me away.” He made her as comfortable as possible before reaching into his breast pocket. He removed a tiny vial of something deep orange. “Can you open your mouth?”

            Albany managed to do as asked and felt him shake a portion of the orange powder onto her tongue.

            “It’s only cayenne pepper, but it’s excellent for people in shock. Shall I get you a drink?” He didn’t wait for a reply but made for the water cooler in the corner.

            In less than five minutes, she felt well enough to sit up and take the cup he held for her.

            “Your color’s better.” He sighed with his usual smile, brushing a curl from her forehead. “Can you speak, or shall I guess?”

            She nodded for him to begin as she drank.

            “You had a visitor.”

            She shook her head and raised two fingers.

            “Two visitors? I hope at the same time.” He chuckled, and she managed a weak smile. “Better and better. All right, two visitors who doubtless work for Raul, forever the thorn in my side.”

            “He never said his name,” she whispered.

            With that gentle confirmation, the transformation on Milo’s face was frightening. His black eyes grew darker as rage set his features.

            “Did they hurt you?”

            The hand holding the empty cup sank as she shook her head. “They did nothing to me, I swear, but,” she tried to make light of the situation in the face of his anger, “it was the first time I was ever...” Her gaze rose, and she forced a smile that vanished in a second. Howling, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed the story against his shoulder. 

<0> 

            The matinee crowd was long gone when they approached the costume mistress. Diana was frantically pinning as an actor undressed around her. Watching their manic dance, Albany was reminded that there was more to a production than singing her part well.

            “Di, do you have a second?”

            “Not much more. If there’s a problem with the costume, tell Lisa. These are leaving for Vancouver on the overnight so make sure yours is on the bed before you go.”

            “It’s not that, Di. It’s the badge on Karl’s costume. I want to buy it.”

            Diana paused, frowning. “You want to buy a piece of a costume?”

            “Yes.”

            The willowy blonde looked between Albany and Milo then back and shrugged, jabbing a pin through the thick material. “Sure. I bought it at a garage sale; cost me a big $5. I just thought it would look good.”

            “It does.” Milo offered her a sealed envelope. “You have an excellent eye.” 

<0> 

            Milo held the car door for her, but Albany still caught the significant look he gave Simon as she ducked into the warm interior.

            “Is something wrong?” she asked as he settled himself beside her.         

            “It seems Raul has found me at last.” He jerked his head in the direction of the traffic behind them. “I’m being followed, but please don’t let it bother you. It won’t be for long.”

            She glanced out the window, but saw only headlights before looking back. “Are you so important?”

            His smile was answer enough though he went on about their pursuers. “I like to think of them as lampreys.”

            “Those yucky things on sharks?”

            “Exactly. They latch onto me as often as possible. Simon, however, excels at lamprey extraction. He has a BA from UMDNJ.”

             “In lamprey removal?”

            Milo smiled. “I surround myself with only the finest things.”

            “And is your life always like this?”

            His smile grew. “No. Usually I’m in a black coat. I only wear the scarlet when I want to be noticed.”

            Her eyes closed, and she sighed.

            “Tell me, please,” he went on, more soberly, “would you like to come to the penthouse and see what I’ve bought? Either way, I must insist that we drive you home. A repeat of last night would leave more than a few parties very unhappy.”

            “I’d love to see what you bought. Di was so...amused, I wanna know.”

            Milo smiled disarmingly and pushed the intercom. “Simon, drop us and lose Raul. I’ll expect you when I see you.”

 

            It took over an hour in a taxi to ensure that they were no longer being followed, and when the elevator doors opened on the penthouse, Albany actually felt like she was home. She suffered no compunction as she slipped off her shoes, pushed them under a table and made a beeline for the living room.

            “Water?”

            “Yes, please.” She buried her toes in the deep carpet. Not content with this sensation, she got onto her hands and knees and crawled to the open space before the fireplace.

            When Milo arrived, moments later, water and jewelry box in hand, Albany was fast asleep.

 

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