Making an Appearance
STOP! If you have not read "No Finer Weapon" by Zarius yet or even recently, you will probably want to do so before tucking into this piece. All of the action in this story happens between Brad's big speech and his getting punched by Bruno.
You may also want to read "The Elephant and the Orchid" and the first chapter of "Divinity" as well if you are not familiar with my original character "Miss Wu."
-o-o-o-o-o-
Miles Mayhem opened the door of his closet and paused, staring blankly at his wardrobe. The dull thump of muffled music was already shaking the walls of the mansion.
This was stupid. Why ever did he promise Vanessa he would make an appearance? She was like one of those carnivorous plants that lured their victims in with sensual colors or a mesmerizing perfume. You were trapped long before you realized it. Maxie wanted him to come as well, and Nash had insisted too. "I'm bringing my girlfriend, Boss. She's a nice girl. You'll like her and I'm sure she'll like you too," the wormy agent had told him at least twice, possibly more. There was only so much he could stomach of Gorey's kissing-up and a lot of it got tuned out. Bruno, the birthday boy, probably didn't care one way or the other whether his employer came to his party.
A third of the closet held his "business suits" as he liked to call them, the uniforms he wore with his masks. Another third held more casual clothing. In the remaining space hung an assortment of regular suits, which he began to flip through, eventually pulling out a black one and a maroon shirt from the casual section.
He lay the clothing on the bed and sighed. This party was not going to be any sort of highlight, even if it was in honor of a long-time agent. Overly loud rock music and wall to wall VENOM underlings...not his thing. He'd rather be off somewhere at a quiet restaurant or at a formal concert. Even a political fund-raising dinner would be much more desirable at this point. At least that would have an entertaining host and plenty of well-dressed women to look at. And he could always duck out to the bar when the politician for whom it was being held got up to dither patriotically about the need for strong leadership and the undoing of his opponents. Ever since VENOM had gone public, invitations for these events came regularly. Birds of a feather...
Miles took a couple of aspirin prophylactically before heading downstairs. How long would he have to stay to make his presence count? He'd have to make sure Vanessa saw him, and he'd have to wish Bruno a happy birthday. Was Bruno expecting a gift from him? Hopefully not as he of course had not gotten him anything, not even a card. And Gorey would probably want to show off whatever tramp it was he'd picked up at that strip club. Maybe he could hire her to give Bruno a lap dance for a birthday present. He could not help but chuckle at the thought of the exchange. "Nash...I need your girlfriend to go dance in her underwear for Bruno." To which Gorey would reply "Okay Mayhem. Anything you say," and Gorey would say it with a genuine smile on his face.
Maybe he should have forced Maxie into standing in for him, just like they used to do all those years ago. Max and Miles could easily pass for each other back in their school days, and they frequently traded places in order to dupe their teachers, their friends, and even their parents, ruses carried out far more effectively by hiding the fact that there were two of them. But Maxie had immediately declared to everyone that he was attending the birthday party as soon as Vanessa had announced it.
Miles passed through the mansion's atrium on his way to the ballroom, where he spotted a familiar face. For a moment, he tried to place her, and suddenly realized it was Miss Wu, his favorite little antiquary from the Orient. This was most unusual. Surely she wasn't here for the birthday party.
She was sitting on the forest green velvet chaise, looking very diminutive and doll-like. As if the scene had been planned, she wore a Kelly-green cheongsam under a long black coat. Her purse and theatrical eyeshadow matched the green satin perfectly and coordinated with the darker velvet upholstery.
"Mister Mayhem!" she exclaimed as he approached. She rose and held out her delicate hand.
"Miss Wu. I was not expecting to see you here. What brings you to my humble home."
"Humble?" she smiled. "They could build an airport on this much land in Hong Kong."
Mayhem chuckled.
"I was in Vancouver for business," she continued, "and your man Mister Dagger had offered me a standing invitation to come visit him, were I ever in the across the Pacific."
"I see. Well how nice of you to come. Does he know you're here?"
"Oh yes. Your 'butler' told him. We are going out to dinner. I am just waiting for him to change clothing."
Mayhem felt a bit of enviousness. How was it that Dagger could so easily get out of this stupid party, and with such a classy lady? And for that matter, why ever was such a well-bred woman so interested in that doorknob? He'd not believed the story Rax had told him until Dagger had showed off the tiny little embroidered handkerchief she had given Cliff as a memento.
"What is going on here tonight? There are many..." She hesitated, seeking an appropriate word. "...there are many 'characters' arriving, and I can hear loud music down the hall."
"Oh, just a bit of a birthday party for one of my agents. I was headed there myself when I saw you here."
"Ah. How nice." Her eyes slid to the man opening the door for more 'characters.' "Is that really your butler?" she hissed secretively...disapprovingly.
Mayhem sighed. "Not mine. Mine retired three weeks ago. That's some step-brother of one of my agents that took the job. I put up with Jones because he works cheap and does well enough, despite the appearance." The man seemed to have made an effort to look especially disreputable tonight, what with the mustard splashes across his face and the torn sleeveless shirt. Contrastingly, the man he presumed to be Miss Wu's bodyguard or driver stood on the opposite wall looking like a suit mannequin out of a shop window. All that was missing was the attached sign listing prices.
"Hmmm. Now I know what to get should I ever need to send you a gift. I'll send you a Chinese valet. None better in the world."
Miles wondered if that was sarcasm or sincerity. Dainty Miss Wu could be difficult to read at times. Then suddenly her face lit up as her eyes lifted to the upper balcony.
Cliff Dagger came down the stairs into the atrium, dressed casually but nicely. Miles noticed he was wearing his "good eyepatch," the one with the braided leather edge he saved for special occasions such as funerals or hostage-taking. "I'm all ready," he said with a sniffle, smiling idiotically at her.
"I am ready as well," she said delightedly, picking up her satin purse from the chaise and taking his proffered arm. The attraction to him was genuine.
As they strolled to the door, Dagger called back over his shoulder. "Don't wait up for me, Boss."
Mayhem held his tongue, though he really wanted to retort with "Don't squash her" or something to that effect. He watched them leave, followed by the man in the suit, and then turned toward the corridor that lead to the ballroom. A heavy sigh escaped him involuntarily. Okay. It wasn't as if he were being marched to the gallows, but it was still a disagreeable night awaiting him. Might as well get it over with. The acetylsalicylic acid should be at least halfway into his bloodstream by now.
The thumping grew louder as he approached the ballroom. Lowlifes were scattered here and there along the corridor. Those that recognized him would nod or salute. Those that didn't would glance at him with that look of "who's the old guy?"
Entering through the tall double doors, he was blinded by the waves of colored light from the stage and pummeled by the hard music. The band was the sort of thing all these punks would love, and that he rather disliked. At least it kept them happy.
Sly Rax was the first to spot him. "Hey... Mayhem...You've been missing out on the fun." He had a drink in one hand and some trashy looking blonde girl in the other. Her blonde had come out of a bottle, and none too recently.
"If you call this fun."
"Hey Vanessa saved you a table over here. C'mon."
Rax lead the way to an untouched table, free of glassware and plates. A sign atop it said "Reserved for Miles Mayhem. Trespassers will be shot." Mayhem took a seat and Rax sat next to him. "Baby, go get the boss a scotch or something. And not the cheap stuff either," Sly said to the girl with him.
"Sure thing," she replied and was off to the nearby bar.
"Is that what you're drinking? I thought you didn't drink," commented Miles, looking at the glass in Rax's hand.
Rax chuckled. "Cold tea," he said sheepishly.
Mayhem smirked. There had always been two oddities about Sly considering his career choice. He wouldn't touch alcohol and had an extreme dislike of anything that could be filed under "creepy-crawly."
He looked over to the bar, and as expected there was Floyd Malloy behind it pouring drinks and filling pitchers of beer. He'd actually been a bartender in younger days, and seemed to like to get back to it now and then. He even looked the part, wearing a white tuxedo shirt, sleeves rolled up, and a black bow tie at his throat. And if he knew Floyd well enough, there would be a small pistol tucked under the striped satin cummerbund. The bleached-blonde returned soon and put a glass down in front of Mayhem, followed immediately by Gorey. The worm must have been watching out for him.
"Boss! Boss! I've been watching out for you. I was hoping you'd come soon."
Mayhem's stomach turned, and he quickly lifted the glass to his lips.
Nash Gorey was wearing a black button-down shirt, grey denim jeans, and a different pair of glasses—glasses that didn't look like he'd bought them from some discount supply house catering to dweebs. For a moment Mayhem was impressed that Gorey actually looked reasonable, but even more impressive was the pretty young lady hanging on his arm. When he had heard that Gorey had met her at the strip joint she worked at, he'd expected someone that looked more like the tramp currently oozing all over Rax, someone under-dressed and over-painted. This girl actually looked like someone you'd be unembarrassed to take home to meet your family. She appeared perhaps Indian or Pakistani, wore light make-up and reasonable clothing, save for the six-inch heels on her platform sandals that made her stand a few inches taller than her date. "Boss, this is Amy."
She smiled brightly and extended her hand. "Pleased to meet you. Nash has told me so much about you," she said in pleasant voice that carried very little of the accent he expected for her ethnicity.
"Nice to meet you, Amy," he replied, taking her hand and shaking it. So much for the lap dance idea. She had to be nervous though, despite whatever confidence she was wearing...her eyes darted about quickly. Perhaps she really was a nice girl as Gorey had said, and being in such company was pushing her limits.
"And this is Sly, one of my co-workers," Gorey continued as he gestured to Rax.
Too far across the table to shake hands, he simply waved, and Amy waved back.
"Let's go see if we can find Bruno. I got him a present," said Gorey to his date, and then he turned to Mayhem. "I'll catch you later, Boss!"
Mayhem wondered again if he should have gotten something for Bruno, but he was glad to see Gorey leave, though he wouldn't have minded if the girl stayed.
"I'm going to get something to eat," said the Miss Peroxide next to Rax.
"You just ate fifteen minutes ago. How can you be hungry again?"
"I am," she said and walked off, leaving Rax shaking his head.
"That chick eats more than I do," he moaned. "I don't know where she puts it all."
It was now Vanessa Warfield's turn to approach the table, and she did, sauntering over with more confidence than anyone could ever need. "Well, you finally decided to make an appearance," she said accusingly, placing her hands on the back of a chair and leaning forward.
"I came. What more do you want?"
"Your brother's been down here since the start of the party."
"My brother? He's never understood the finer things in life. I really need to send him off to finishing school or something."
"Finer things maybe, but he certainly knows the 'funner things.' He's up near the stage having the time of his life." Vanessa sat on the edge of the table and crossed her legs, the pointed toes on her pumps angling out as if to say 'touch me not' while the loose fitting sweater she wore hung off of one shoulder temptingly. In her "business suit" she looked like trouble. In casual clothing she looked effortlessly sexy. "Why don't you take a few lessons from him and lighten up a little and come have some fun?"
"Because this is not my kind of 'fun' and you very well know it," he grumbled at her and downed the rest of his scotch. "Are you two in cahoots? Because he told me the same thing."
Vanessa simply smirked and tossed her hair. "Well at least have a piece of birthday cake and come wish Bruno a happy birthday."
Mayhem locked eyes with her, but she wouldn't give in. "All right," he conceded.
"I'll get you another drink," she said in a tone that could almost be considered sweet. She hopped off the table and disappeared into the crowd, returning after a while with a slice of cake in one hand and his scotch in the other.
Miles had to admit it was a pretty good birthday cake...real butter frosting instead of that commercial goop most bakeries had gone to, and after finishing his second drink, the music didn't seem nearly as obnoxious or the party-goers nearly as unlikeable. In fact after a third drink that girl in the purple cocktail dress and fishnets sitting at the near end of the bar was actually starting to look quite attractive. But before he could go see if she was an employee or not, Vanessa dragged him across the room to where Bruno Sheppard was enjoying what was probably his fourth or fifth slice of cake. The band had gone on break and so the dance floor was empty and the ballroom was much quieter.
"Hey! Boss! Good to see you here. Having a good time?" greeted Bruno as Mayhem was escorted up to the table. Lester Sludge was sitting with him.
"Well I..."
Vanessa's grip on his arm tightened.
"Yes I am," he said. And then wondered why he allowed her to lead him around like a prize bull with a golden nose-ring. "I'm having a great time. So much better than staying up in my room watching the nine-o-clock news."
Bruno laughed, apparently not detecting the hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Yep. Vanessa sure knows how to plan a party. Great food. Great band. Great crowd."
The hostess was again smirking.
"Hey! Look what Nash got me." Bruno picked up the sock monkey that had been sitting rather conspicuously in front of him and waggled it proudly. Then he draped it over his shoulder.
"A sock monkey? Really?"
"Yeah! Isn't he great? I had one when I was a little boy and he was my best friend." Bruno patted the stuffed animal affectionately, smoothing it against his beefy shoulder. "I'm going to name him Frank." He touched his nose affectionately to the toy's silly face. "Isn't that right, Frank?" And then he tilted his head toward it. "What's that, Frank? You want to go kick some MASK butt tonight? Well all right. But let me finish this cake first."
Mayhem was a bit stunned by this sudden appearance of a playful, almost childlike, side of Bruno. As far as he knew there hadn't been one. Until now the man had been all business and raw muscle. His agents seemed to all be full of surprises tonight. "Well I came over to wish you a happy birthday."
"Thanks boss," he grinned. "I'm glad you're here. It's just not a party without the big guy around."
Mayhem wondered if it was scotch or actual sincerity that made Bruno's voice sound honest.
"Now if you'll excuse me..." Mayhem pulled away from Vanessa and headed back to his table. Thankfully the she-demon wasn't following him this time. And if he were extra lucky, that girl in the purple dress would still be sitting at the bar.
She was...but apparently someone else had spotted her first and was flirting shamelessly with her. And worse yet she seemed to be enjoying his attentions.
"Maxie!"
His brother turned and greeted him with a big smile. "Miles! Well there you are! Someone said that you were over here near the bar, but I didn't find you. But I did find this charming young lady here." He took her hand and kissed it.
"Oh goodness!" laughed the girl catching sight of Miles. "There are two of you!"
"Why yes. This is my big brother Miles."
"Nice to meet you" she said, extending her hand. "I'm Linda."
Miles took it. "Likewise," he said, all the while glaring at his sibling.
"Miles, I'm glad you're here," Maximus beamed. "It's a fun party. Maybe you're having a good time for once?"
Mayhem grumbled something unintelligible, for which being unintelligible was for the best, and turned to the bartender. Floyd was reaching into the bottom of the blender jar to grab an olive that had fallen into it. "Don't put your hand in there! It's still plugged in!" Miles chided angrily, and then sighed. Ever since he and Maxie had opened the family mansion to their agents it was like being parents. Had these idiots ever lived in a house before? Just the other day the birthday boy himself had stepped on a rake and the handle had struck him fairly hard in the chest...twice. He had yet to see if it had knocked any sense into him. Mayhem pushed his glass over toward the Malloy. "Another please." At least now he could leave the party and head back up to his room. Maybe he could convince Linda to come with him. If she liked Maxie, she'd have to like him better.
Turning back to her, he noticed his brother had disappeared, leaving Linda alone. "So Linda, what brings a nice girl like you to this den of snakes?"
"Oh, a general invitation was issued to the office I work at."
"What office is that?"
"The Rogers Group, the bookkeeping office for VENOM."
"Oh really?"
"Wait...You're Miles...Miles Mayhem?" She laughed and shifted a little closer to him on the tall chair she was sitting on. "I never thought I'd ever actually meet you, and here I am talking to you."
"Well then, talk away," he said smiling at her, and it wasn't hard to smile. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties and had gorgeous auburn hair and a fantastic pair of legs.
"Nice to meet you, again, Mr. Mayhem."
"Please, just call me Miles. You're not at the office now." She was smiling back at him with all sincerity, and Miles could feel a bit of excitement wriggling in the pit of his stomach—the same jolt a fisherman felt on seeing a trout suddenly notice his lure. Maybe this night was going to work out after all.
"All right, Miles."
About that point the lights on the stage rose halfway, and the band began to return to their places. "Hmmm...It looks like it's going to get loud in here again," commented Mayhem, watching as the guys began to pick up their instruments. He turned back to Linda. "Would you like to go for a bit of a walk, go talk somewhere quiet? There's a big garden out in the back, and the late-season roses are still in bloom, if you like flowers. They should be in full scent after that early evening rain we had."
"I love flowers, especially roses...but..."
"But?"
"But I promised your brother I'd go dance with him when the band started up again."
Miles' face fell. "Oh. I see." He turned back to the dance floor, and as expected there was Maxie up talking to the band leader, probably requesting some songs. "Well, if you told him you would, I'd not want you to disappoint him," he lied to her.
The front man walked away from Maximus and picked up his microphone. "We're back everyone!" Grabbing his guitar, he worked the strings hard in a five second solo. "You all ready to rock on?"
The dance floor in front of him was starting to fill, and the motley throng cheered back approvingly.
Miles squinted, thinking the musician looked a bit familiar.
"All right then. But first...I have a special request to play for someone special here," he announced, giving a thumbs up to Maxie.
"Oh yeah, he's special all right," mumbled Mayhem under his breath.
"Something a bit sexy, a bit slow...something for a sweet lady here tonight."
Miles groaned.
"I guess that's my cue!" beamed Linda and she hopped off of the chair. She briefly caught Miles' hand. "See you around," she said with a wink, and then moved quickly to the dance floor.
"My cue too..." Turning once again to Malloy he waved him over. "Gimme that bottle," he ordered.
Malloy placed the bottle of scotch in front of Miles, who grabbed it. "He stole your girl again, didn't he?"
"My girl?"
Floyd smirked. "I saw the way you were looking at her."
Miles glared at him. "You saw nothing."
"I saw the way your brother was looking at her too."
"And the way she was looking at him, I'm sure."
"The way she was looking at both of you."
"What do you know about women?" Mayhem snarled at him challengingly.
Malloy was unintimidated. He leaned on the bar toward Mayhem. "I'm not Cupid, so I can't get her back for you. But I can fix it so he won't be taking her home tonight."
Mayhem thought for a moment. "Oh really? What? You going to serve him a poisoned drink or something?"
"Naw. Much more subtle."
Miles looked over to where Maxie was now dancing with Linda to a slow song. Ugh...was he actually nuzzling her neck? "All right. What's this going to cost me, Birdman?"
Malloy looked around to see who was within earshot. "Nothing. But I might ask a return favor of you sometime."
"Just a favor?"
Malloy nodded.
"You're on."
The wind-blown blonde pulled away the bottle and leaned even closer. "Okay...now remember how your brother is always bragging about how he could drink you under the table..."
-o-o-o-o-o-
Fifteen minutes later Miles and Maximus were seated facing each other, Linda hanging on Maxie's shoulder. Between the two sat a short stack of $100 bills. Some of the other agents were gathered around, ready to watch the showdown between the twins.
Malloy came over from the bar with a tray of shotglasses and a bottle of whiskey. He set three glasses in front of each of them and filled them.
"I'm putting my money on Maxie," said Sly quietly to Vanessa. "Miles is down at least three already."
"Hmmm...I'm sticking with Miles. He's had a big slice of cake, and he's never let his brother get the better of him. Sheer willpower..."
"Nope. I'm still going with Max. Remember he's been down here a while and has been past the buffet more than once."
"Gentlemen, begin" called Malloy and he returned to the bar to set up another tray of drinks for the contest.
Miles picked up the closest glass and raised it in a toast. "May the best man win."
Maximus did likewise. "Here's mud in your eye."
They both drank, draining the shot glasses and turning them upside down onto the tablecloth, repeating the ceremony twice more. Malloy returned and set down ten more shotglasses, ready-filled, just as the Mayhem twins were finishing the first three.
"You feeling all right, Maxie? You're looking a bit green," asked Miles.
"I have not yet begun to imbibe," joked Maximus defiantly. He picked up his next round and threw it back, then grinned at his brother again. He slapped the glass confidently onto the table.
Miles scowled and grabbed his next and drank it. And then he smiled wickedly at Maxie. "Nor have I."
-o-o-o-o-o-
The competition was soon over, a woozy Maximus Mayhem being the first to surrender, which he announced by passing out and falling sideways. Thankfully Bruno had been standing right behind him and caught him before he tumbled out of his chair. Floyd cleared the table of the remaining drinks and empty glasses.
Miles was smiling from ear to ear. He clumsily pocketed the money and staggered to his feet. "Way to go, Boss. I knew you could beat him. You're the best!" fawned Gorey.
"Thank you, Nash." For once the sycophant's praise wasn't grating.
Linda was gently slapping Maximus' face. "Maxie? Maxie?" But he was out cold.
"Sly. Lester. Get him out of here," Mayhem commanded. The two goons grabbed Maxie under the arms and dragged him off, leaving Linda staring after him.
Miles was quick to act. "So Linda. How about that walk in the garden now?"
She looked up at him, and a smile came to her face. "All right."
He offered his arm, and as they began to walk for the door at the back of the room, Miles stumbled slightly. Linda was quick to steady him. Miles chuckled a little. "How about a stagger through the garden?" he grinned.
Soon they were out the door and away from the noise of the band. The garden, somewhat overgrown and rambling, stretched away from the mansion and down the hill. The rainclouds had cleared, leaving a sky full of stars to illuminate the paths. The surrounding hills stood out in silhouette against the glow of the city behind them.
Suddenly Linda had him by the lapels of his suit-coat and was kissing him. Startled by her forwardness at first, Miles quickly relaxed and put his hands around her waist, only to be startled again by her slipping her tongue into his mouth.
"Well now!" he gasped when she eventually broke the kiss to catch her breath. Miles was flabbergasted. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been kissed like that, or if he had ever been kissed like that for that matter.
"So that's how you did it," she said slyly.
"Did what?"
"Won the competition against your brother."
"Excuse me?"
"Miles, you taste very little of whiskey, but very much of iced tea. You cheated."
He pulled away, disgusted that she had discovered Malloy's trick so easily, but even more disgusted that she had done it under a ruse of romance. "So what if I did?"
Linda laughed again and took him again by the lapels. "Exactly. So what?" And with that she yanked him forward and kissed him again. And though his mind said no, his lips couldn't seem to say anything but yes. She was as wicked as Vanessa, though Vanessa would never resort to toying with a man's affections.
"What was that for?" he choked when she let go of him eventually.
"Just verifying..."
"Verifying what? That I cheated against my own brother to win that stupid contest? I didn't deny it."
"Just verifying that you're a good kisser."
Miles stared at her. All the places he'd been...all the people he'd met...all the money and power and fame he had...and she just wanted to see how he kissed. She was either crazy or foolish or had her priorities completely wrong.
Or perhaps she was just perfect.
She giggled and hugged him closely, then bounced away a few steps further along the path. "C'mon," she said flirtatiously. "I believe you offered me late-season roses."
"Yes. Yes I did," he said, recovering himself once more. His feigned drunken stagger gone, he walked up to meet her and held out his arm once again. She took it.
-o-o-o-o-o-