“I don’t think they’re on the it,” said the doorman studying the list.
“I assure you they are,” said the blonde lady sliding her sexy witch outfit down a little and proffering a crisp twenty.
The doorman look at her incredulously, the young lady had clearly spent way too much while growing watching trashy American Young Adult shows. He rolled his eyes and stood his ground. “I’m sorry miss your friends aren’t on the list.”
“My dear young lady,” said the older man at the door, “while I am sure your connection to my friend here is warranted, but I do feel you are making a fuss for very little gain.
“Spoilsport,” retorted the man’s friend. The doorman looked at the two and decided for his own peace of mind that the man was merely there as her ticket to a fancy party. Well if they had been on the guest list.
“I believe with reservations under as representatives of Tony Wilkington Affluent Distributors ,” said the man relaxed authority, suggesting he’d enjoyed the small performance with the blonde girl. The door man wasn’t sure if this endeared the man to him or not. He checked the list and sure enough there it was.
“You can enter,” the doorman said with a little bit of reluctance and gestured to the large oak door to the left. The young blonde girl dresses as a witch bounced on her heels with glee and gave the arriving girl a friendly hug and the man a solid handshake. They disappeared off into the corridor and the doorman returned to his post. He regarded the trio as they disappeared into the body of the house, it’s a different world today he told himself.
“Tony Wilkington Affluent Distributors???” Asked the new arrival once the blonde witch had gone out of earshot. “So we are apparently the reps of a company that sells sh-”
“-yes Fertilizers. Industrial and domestic markets.” Interrupted the man with a smile. He took off his long coat and revealed his outfit for the party. The young girl looked him up and down.
“Vincent Price?” She enquired.
“No Edgar Allen Poe,” he answered affixing a long wig and moustache.
“I wondered why you’d shaved your ‘tache off,” the girl retorted as she stepped out of her coat and revealed her costume.
“Red Riding hood?” he queried.
“Yup, unlike young Krissy out there, I have not intention of freezing to death on my way home. Nor get the unwanted attention of lecherous patrons.” She smiled, “also I am able to hide any artillery I need under my cloak.”
“So what did you say our aliases were for this event?” Asked the man
“Tracy Ward and Thomas Bowler.”
“Thomas Bowler… I take it that calling me Woolf didn’t cross your mind,” tutted the man. “We’re trying to out wit a master thief not indulge in some exotic cosplay.”
Krissy entered the cloak room and looked at their costumes, “hey I dig your style Tom” she said pressing herself up to ‘Thomas’ who uncomfortably smiled as she did so.
“It’s Thomas, not Tom,” he replied meekly. “But thanks.”
‘Tracy’ smiled at his awkward body language and looked at Krissy and was trying to figure out how she was keeping her quite considerable assets inside that corset.
“Come on guys,” said Krissy lets join the other guests. “This is going to be such a fab evening.”
Thomas winced at her cheerful demeanour and clunky colloquialisms, he was beginning to regret being persuaded to take on this assignment-what if the rest of the party was populated by a similar vibe of people?
They arrived into the refined splendour of the grand hall which was partially adorned by ornate fittings and furnishings and the centre piece was a crystal chandelier swing solo from the ceiling. Thomas looked up and could see an empty fitting, clearly there had been two, perhaps it was away being cleaned. The more fragile displays had been packed away and replaced with appropriate party pieces to add atmosphere and no doubt remove the risk of advanced inebriation and high spirits. The guests seemed to be from a varied background and thankfully few of Krissy’s mentality and dress sense, he spotted a Jacob Marley sitting on a chair taking in the surroundings. Possible target spotted he told himself and hoped his Edgar Allen Poe costume disguised his features enough to avoid recognition.
Krissy was babbling excitedly and led Tracy off into the crowd towards a small group of youngsters who were awkwardly sipping from champagne flutes and revealing themselves to be some what out of their depth. He was distracted by a tap on his shoulder and turned to be greeted by a lady in a emerald green dress and half-face mask, her hair tied back into a bun and a heavily jewelled necklace hung around her neck.
“Good Evening,” she said, “I am Isabella Midnight, the Lady of the Manor and I would like to welcome you to my party.”
“Delighted to meet you,” he replied taking her gloved hand and kissing it, “I am A.. *cough* Thomas Bowler, I am a representative of..”
“Oh lets not talk shop, you have only just arrived and you aren’t dressed yet.”
“Not dressed yet?” Thomas queried, still recovering from nearly breaking his cover. What had he missed? A stuffed Raven on his arm? A bottle of Amontillado?
“You haven’t got a drink yet,” lady Midnight smiled and gestured a waiter who arrived promptly. She took two glasses and offered one. “I do hope you enjoy the party.”