Destiny Plays Read online

  The first real look I get of Christos is when he climbs out of the car. Other than his annoyed expression, I have zero complaints. If I made a list of things I don’t like about Mr. Santini, it would be a blank page so far. Most people would take more than fifteen minutes to size up a stranger, but I always go with my gut. It’s telling me there’s something different here.

  He’s older than the men I’m normally attracted to. With a twenty-something, I don’t have to worry about commitment. That long-term promise doesn’t interest me. I can control everything with a twenty-five-year-old. The when, where, how much of a relationship, all my decision. I like that they haven’t been hardened by life yet. There’s a kind of innocence about them. They like my experience and confidence; I like other things they offer.

  But hardened or not, this guy’s interesting. And let’s be real, he’s awfully good to look at. He’s tall. I like a man who can tower over my five-foot-four and three quarters inch frame. The clothes fit him like they were tailored on his body, and other than the blood spots and pulled fabric, they look flawless. I can see his pecs and abs under the soft cloth of his dress shirt. That does nothing to calm me. When he turns to lock the car, his ass puts on quite a show, standing so round and firm beneath the fabric. I can picture myself taking a bite of that apple.

  “Let’s go,” he says slipping his keys into his pocket.

  I snap out of my fantasies and lead the way through the parked cars and onto Auntie Anne’s property.

  “I think that’s my brother’s car,” he says pointing to the black SUV at the entry to the driveway.

  “The veterinarian?”

  “Yeah.”

  I resist the temptation to say I told him so. We walk up the small incline that curves to the front yard. It doesn’t disappoint. People in costumes make their way towards the house. A soundtrack of creepy sounds come from speakers hidden in the trees on either side of the property.

  “Whoa!” he says.

  “I know. It’s like this every year. Different theme, but equally impressive.”

  It’s obviously Haunted House year. Her half acre decorated yard to house. The two-story Victorian is bathed in an eerie blue light. Huge cobwebs hang from roof to porch. Auntie has made it look like every window is barred with old wooden ties. Through the bars, silhouettes of ghosts stand. I see a headless bride and a groom in the picture window on the main floor.

  On the balcony of my room, two life-sized ghost dolls with painted white faces and wild blonde hair stand hand in hand. Their pale eyes staring down at the guests entering the house. White ghost pumpkins are everywhere, lining the path leading up the front steps and piled across the wide porch. The front door is wide open and party guests can be heard laughing and talking.

  “I love it!” I say.

  “Very cool.”

  We walk up the steps behind a couple dressed like a vampire and a sexy Red Cross nurse. She carries a pint of blood that he’s got his eye on. That and her ginormous boobs.

  “You know you’re going to be asked why you’re not in costume. You’re the odd man out here.”

  He smiles. It’s the first time I’ve seen the glory of it. Wow.

  “What’re you talking about? I’m Pissed Off Guy in a Porsche.”

  “Better not flash that smile or no one will believe you.”

  “Against my better judgment, my mood is changing,” he says catching my eye.

  We enter the house, and I hear my name called from the staircase.

  “Kate! My Katie!”

  I look up to see Auntie Anne sliding down the banister in her ghost costume. Well into her sixties with a spirit of a ten-year-old. She’s got streaks of grey sprayed through her long curly hair and white foundation on her face. She looks gloriously spooky. The house is decorated within an inch of its life. Heads in jars, skeletons in chains, cauldrons boiling with dry ice.

  “What happened to you? I’ve been trying to call,” she says as she carefully offers a hug.

  I feel her arms around me and a kiss on the cheek. “My car. It wasn’t raining when I started walking. But this nice gentleman rescued me.”

  Watching my aunt take in the good-looking man standing in front of her is entertaining. Her shoulders go back and she gets this cat-that-swallowed-the-canary look. One eyebrow rises in appreciation.

  “Anne, this is Christos Santini.”

  He extends his hand and takes hers. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for not kicking out a party crasher,” he says charmingly.

  “Oh, honey, I’m certain you never get kicked out of anything.”

  He’s silent because he’s a little shocked. Then she bursts into her signature laugh that can be heard over the music.

  “Auntie, I rescued a black and white cat from the side of the road. He spooked and took off. If you see—”

  She interrupts me with one palm up. “He already found a home. He came inside before you did. Good girl for saving his life.”

  “ I’m so happy he didn’t run into the hills.” I exhale my answer.

  She puts one arm through Christos’.

  “Come on, let’s go get you a drink while Kate gets out of those wet things.” She turns to me and winks. “Maybe Mr. Santini would like to meet the real you.”

  I understand the message, but I have no intention of showing my cards yet. We just began the game. Let him wonder for a little while longer. This should be fun. They move towards the Pick Your Poison bar set up in the living room, and I head upstairs. It’s a familiar path to the second floor and down the hall to my room. Ever since Auntie Anne moved here in the nineties, it’s been my touchstone and where I stay when I’m not on the road.

  These clothes need to go. The heavy wool is beginning to smell as musty as the trunk it came from. I enter the bedroom and sweet memories arise. The four-poster bed, the fireplace and more than anything, the full-length standing mirror. This is where I practiced my soliloquies or rehearsed lines. Looking at my image and learning to become the characters I would play. Shakespeare’s famous women were interpreted by me in this room, in front of this mirror. It’s kind of sacred, this space.

  I peel out of my costume and underwear, which is completely soaked. As I pass the mirror, I laugh. Only my witches face, hat, wig, and hand makeup remain, the rest of me is stark-ass naked. I bet I could sell this image to some freaky man on the internet who’s into witches and porn. There’s got to be an audience for that.

  What am I going to wear? This is my opportunity to reveal a little more of myself to Christos. Let him see I’m not one hundred years old. Luckily, Auntie lets me leave things here in case I make a surprise visit in between my breaks. In the closet I search through my choices. Wait. What’s this in the back? The corseted long tattered gown I wore for last year’s party when I went dressed as a Shakespearean ghost. I was long dead Juliet. Now I’ll be one of the witches from Macbeth. Without underwear. Ha!

  I remove the hat but leave the wig on. I find a pair of tennis shoes which will be hidden by the dress. Once together I give myself a look. The hair sort of works. The hands definitely. They’re covered by long sleeves. But my boobs are pushed up and my smooth chest skin is in stark contrast to my face. How do I explain that? I’ll just say I’m undergoing a spell and changing from witch to woman. I’m only half way there. I’m sexy witch, but it’s a matter of no other choices. If there’s one thing I don’t want to be is obvious. Exactly what he said I’d avoided and he was spot on.

  Rummaging through the closet, I find a silky tie and use it to hide the demarcation from neck to chest. Not bad. Kinda creepy and sort of sexy in a messed up way. I like it. My final look in the mirror makes me second guess myself. It would be better to show my own hair. This crappy wet-on-the-ends mess isn’t doing the costume justice. I take it off. Unpinning my long chestnut hair, I let it fall free and give it a shake. Much better. I return the hat to my head and give myself a nod. But when I smile I know what must go. My green teeth aren’t going to make the cut. It blows th
e look. Yeah, I’ll go with that. Actually, I’m hoping he’s going to get a little closer. Rotten teeth could ruin it all. So, I spend an extra fifteen minutes in the bathroom until my real smile has returned. Showtime.

  Leaving the room, I rejoin the growing party. It’s louder than when I left and there’s people lining the staircase. United is dry and curled on the top of the bannister. I think he’s used to being around people partying. He’s giving me the eye not to pet him so I just let him be. I wind my way past guests enjoying their cocktails or shots, saying my hellos and complimenting the costume choices.

  Up ahead, at the entry to the living room, I spot Christos. My aunt is nowhere to be seen, but in her place is a couple dressed like Dragon Mother from Game Of Thrones, and her champion, Jorah. She has a platinum wig on and tiny rubber dragons attached to the shoulders of her gown. He’s a good-looking guy in a sexy shirt and pants with a sword placed in his scabbard. His arm is partly exposed and it’s turning to stone.

  I see a resemblance in the men’s faces, although this man has lighter colored hair with golden highlights. Christos’ hair is dark.

  “There she is,” I hear him say to the couple. He’s smiling as I make my way down the last few steps. Okay, I’m slowing my roll a bit, just for effect. Is it working? By the grin and tilt of his head, I’d say so.

  “Hi! Love your costumes. I’m a big fan of that show,” I say to the couple.

  “Kate, this is my brother Nash and his fiancé Farrah.”

  “Happy to meet you,” I say.

  “I see now what it takes to get my brother to come to a party,” Nash teases.

  Farrah nods her head in agreement. “Exactly. Why didn’t we think of that earlier? So nice to meet you, Kate. Your costume is clever. You’re turning into a witch, right?”

  God, I love this girl already.

  “Thank you! I had to improvise. I’m sure Christos told you about my night.”

  “Glad you lost the green teeth,” he says.

  There’s a current becoming detectable between us. And I think it’s obvious to his family too. I can tell by their expressions this whole scene is not the kind of thing he usually goes for. They act shocked to find him here. Nash pats him on the shoulder then turns to me.

  “I’m kind of glad you got stranded. This will be the first time in, well a while, since I’ve got to party with my big brother.”

  He’s embarrassed. I see it on his face and in his body language.

  “Okay, that’s enough. We don’t need to have a therapy session. Let’s get Kate a drink. She needs to catch up,” Christos says.

  Very interesting. He’s a loner. Maybe a brooding loner. Or, could be they don’t like each other. But I dismiss that last one because of their faces. They’re both having fun in the other’s company.

  As we head for the bar, Christos leans in. “Why in the hell were you hiding your light under that witch’s costume?”

  This pleases me more than he knows. More than I’d have guessed.

  “I’m never that obvious. You were right,” I whisper.

  He laughs and it lights the room. Or is it just me who sees that?

  The three of them are a drink ahead so I start with a Tequila shot. But I probably won’t be catching up because they have one too. I can see the booze is starting to loosen Christos’ reserve. Gone is the serious expression. In its place is that dazzling smile.

  “Game time!!” Auntie Anne calls.

  She’s standing in the living room holding pages of a newspaper.

  “Come get your page! Dancing couples must stand together on the paper when the music stops. Then fold the piece in half when it starts back up. Next time the music stops, you stand closer. And on and on. Each person must keep one foot on the paper. If one of you gets off the page, you’re out! Last couple standing wins a prize! Let’s begin!”

  With her proclamation, “The Monster Mash” begins. They’re like ants on sugar. Everyone who wants to participate grabs a double page. Nash and Farrah get theirs right away. They see us just standing there.

  “Come on you two. Have some fun!” Nash says.

  I look at Christos and he’s not objecting. Neither am I. He takes my hand.

  “Let’s play.”

  He grabs a piece of newspaper and leads me to the dance floor. This makes Farrah and Nash happy. I believe game playing’s out of character for their brother. The volume rises. We do the mash. The monster mash. He’s letting go. Slowly at first. But no matter how restrained he is, I can see this guy can move. Lordy.

  The music stops and we all act as if we’re playing musical chairs. Quickly everyone takes their place on the papers. There’s enough space for two. For everyone else that is. I think we’re the only people here who may not have stood this close to their partner before. The look on his face says he likes it. So do I.

  The music starts. He picks up the paper and folds it in half. Now we have only one side of a page. We mash for another ten seconds or so. It stops. Now we need to hold on to each other to stay atop the paper. Oh boy. Our hips are perilously close. The music resumes. He folds the paper into a square. We dance, but he’s looking at me with a wicked grin. We both know what’s coming. I’m getting hot, literally and figuratively.

  The music stops. He places the paper down, wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close. I have no idea if we’re on the paper or not. Oh my friggin God. My breasts are pressed to him. His sable brown eyes locked on mine. The music starts and he moves against me. It’s the most sensual scene in my life. The promise of paradise, not paradise itself. But there’s no guessing if we’re on the paper or not because we don’t want to play anymore. Not that game.

  It continues for everyone else, and I can hear the screams of laughter. But for the two of us we’ve already claimed the real prize.

  “Let me see your face,” he whispers in my ear.

  A chill rises up my spine. “I would, but this has to be peeled off. It takes some effort.”

  He looks around and his eyes settle on the photo booth across the entry in the library. “Come on,” he says taking my hand. I follow without hesitation because I want him to see me, to look at me.

  He leads me to the booth, which at present is unoccupied because most are dancing. Spider webs and moody lighting beckon us inside. We close the curtain and sit on the small bench, but before he does anything he turns my face to the camera and takes a picture of us.

  “I want to remember you like this,” he says.

  “So you can scare yourself?”

  “In a way.”

  Then he begins to peel the latex from my face. “Start at my hairline and move around the edges,” I say. He’s gentle and methodical, making sure not to hurt me.

  “By the way, nice hair. It smells like jasmine.”

  He leans in and breathes in the fragrance for a moment. If he could see my face he’d know I’m blushing. He has my forehead exposed and the edges of my cheeks.

  “Well, now I know you’re not an eighty-year-old woman,” he says grinning.

  “I’m forty-two,” I say without hesitation.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He continues working on my nose which comes off easier than I expected. He lifts the chin piece and removes the entire mask. There’s a few beats before he comments. “Now there’s a great face.”

  My breath quickens with the comment. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “And dimples. I especially like those. I only have one criticism.”

  And now I’m not breathing at all. “What would that be?”

  “The yellow eyes. They’re a little strange.” He laughs when he says it and the corner of his mouth goes up.

  I exhale. Happy to rid myself of the contacts, I delicately remove them and gaze up at him. His expression is the compliment.

  “I’ve never seen that shade before. They’re like dark emeralds.” With that, he leans in just inches from my face, his sweet breath casting a spell. “Kiss me, Kate
.”

  He says it with no room for disagreement. Not that there was going to be any. Taking my face in his hands, I feel his soft lips on mine. In all my history of first kisses, this ranks as number one. It’s as if I’ve never really been kissed before.

  When we part there’s a whole lot of unspoken dialogue flowing between us. I think surprise is the word that sums it up best. I know I didn’t expect this night would lead to this.

  He tilts his head. “Wow,” he says softly.

  From outside the curtain we hear approaching partiers. Then their loud voices.

  “Our turn!”

  Christos holds the curtain shut.

  “We’re almost done. One more picture,” he says firmly.

  But it’s not a picture he’s after. His arm encircles my waist and he brings me close to him. There’s just a moment when our eyes declare their intentions. He takes the most gloriously indecent kiss. It’s passion this time, hunger bubbling right beneath the surface. I know he wants to touch me. I want to touch him. This is that sweet moment when desire comes pounding on the door, demanding to be let in. I hear “Love Potion Number Nine” begin to play.

  Chapter Three

  Christos

  Other than my clawed balls, it was an exceptional night. I laugh at the memory because it had to be pretty great to make up for that. I keep going over what transpired. From the first sight of her walking along the dark road, to the moment we said goodnight. Shocking really. First of all, she broke that mood I was lost in. It hasn’t returned yet. Secondly, the age thing surprised me. She’s older than me. Not a deal breaker, just surprising.

  If this is what a forty-two-year-old woman’s made of, I’ve been fishing in the wrong pond. Maybe underestimating a lot. When we kissed it felt like we were on equal terms. I’m not even sure what that means except to say it was a sense of experience. Neither one of us knew more about life than the other, and it showed up in the kiss.