Magnolia In An Icestorm

The Elusive Lucy

Michael Blakeslee took his seat within one of the royal boxes high above the stage, umbrella perched against the railing and blackberry at hand to continue his work. He had been informed the leading lady, Katherine Nash, would report any odd encounters that might present themselves and was wired with a mobile device to activate when any persons of suspicion approached her before and after the performance. Everything was in place and he knew the seat assignment of every MI6 agent on duty tonight. He was confident that between Derek, Scotland Yard and his secret service this case would be rapidly coming to a close and the murderer reprimanded. Sitting back in the plush chair, he ordered a glass of his favorite port and began to settle for a boring night of American theatre. True to his country Mother England, and the fact it was the birthplace of the greatest playwrights in history, Michael harbored low expectations and a bored and stoic expression as the curtain rose and the music began.

I loved the initial blast from the orchestra when the opening number begins. I can feel everyone around me, their nerves and excitement, the raw thrill as they pounce onto their entrances and begin. It's amazing to watch and not be the in the opening act, you get to witness the shedding of the actor's true self and as they cross the threshold into the wings they are already in character. It's like watching a butterfly emerge from a cocoon, pure magic. Everyone was full of life and energy tonight, and although I could sense their nerves at the new audience halfway across the world, I felt their determination. It gave me pause before completely pumping me up. I stood there listening, feeling the cues dressed in the red and black brocade corset that accentuated my tiny waist and ample chest, fishnets and thin black bustled skirt. I shook out my fingers and bounced in my dance heels in an effort to calm and excite myself simultaneously. Closing my eyes, I became Lucy, the girl who sold her body for money to eat, singing in a club for men who had taken advantage of her nearly all of her life. She had a song, Good 'n Evil and unbeknownst to her she would be singing the song to a man whom had perfected a formula to divide the two from man. I eyed Kendrick, handsome as always and saw him as the gentle and sweet Dr. Jekyll. Then I heard my cue, inhaled and sauntered onto stage, Charlie gone and Lucy in full swing.

Just as he had settled back into his seat with a fresh glass of Macallan single malt, neat, his attention was demanded by the beautiful creature that had just entered centre stage with a voice like a siren call. She was dark and mysterious, beautiful beyond reason and glowed like a fallen angel under the spotlight. Auburn hair glimmered in gorgeous curls over ivory skin, green eyes ignited like fiery emeralds when the stage lights hit her just so. Her movements were natural and unforced, and for a moment he forgot she was acting, was merely an actress playing a role. Michael had been attracted to various women from his powerful position, all of them well-educated in politics and social graces, and to his satisfaction in bed, but never had he been so stricken upon first glance by a woman. He immediately knew he wanted to know the beautiful creature on stage, the femininity of every inch of her causing every bit of male within him to rise. These were all the thoughts that raced through his brilliant mind before it occurred to him that he had not been aware of the actress' existence prior to this night which meant she did not have proper MI6 debriefing nor protection against the potential serial killer.

By the second act Mycroft had stepped out during intermission to purchase two dozen white roses for the beautiful woman's stirring performance in the first act, then reading through the Playbill he had not yet given a second thought to, absorbed her short bio to decipher what he could from her headshot and what she chose to allow the audience to know about her.

During "A New Life" I was belting to the rafters, the words ringing true to both Lucy and my new move to a new home in London. This was my favorite song from the show, the part where the rough and street wise courtesan revealed to the audience her soft and vulnerable side. I knew my eyes were brighter than they'd ever been as I eased down the stage bed into the spotlight on my knees and every note was perfect, rich and belting in all the right moments and shimmering and soft in others. This was a skill that had taken weeks of rehearsal to perfect, to soften and then belt again with precision. Kat had helped me long after rehearsals were done in her apartment bathroom, never letting me give up, pressing rewind for each note I missed. For a moment I even allowed myself to dream of my Dr. Jekyll, swooping in and making me fall in love with his gentlemanly manners and soft touch and intelligence beyond measure. I had no idea but I had a gorgeous pair of cerulean eyes in the face of the ice man upon my stellar solo, held by my every gesture and breath. When Hyde caressed me close and swiftly murdered me in the stage bed with a quick knife in the back, he let out an audible gasp as a tightening sensation seized his chest, the expression of terror shocking to the very man who never showed such emotion. Kendrick had just killed me, and I was carted off the stage in a wheel barrel, to further drive home the sadness of Lucy's brutal murder, that no one could have saved her, and in no way would anyone care.

I felt really good about my London debut, and I could tell my voice was husky and worn from the belting and my blood was full of oxygen. I was high, heart racing in my chest, adrenaline making me shake a little. I loved the high from performing, there was absolutely nothing like it, it was like skydiving for some people. Before I knew it we were doing curtain call, and as the leads Kendrick, Kat and I took our bows arm in arm, Ken in the center of us. I laughed, bubbling with joy at my friend's, their performances beyond phenomenal tonight. I was both honored and humbled to perform along side them, to share this experience. We had done it, our first night in London at the Grand Royal Drury Lane had warranted a standing ovation and we hugged as we stood upstage as the rest of the cast took their bows after us.

It was our ritual that once the house cleared, Director Slade gathered us in a circle on the stage and gave us his notes for the evening. We were perfect tonight so I knew he wouldn't have much, but he had an outside view I sometimes envied. To see myself and the others, I would know what cues could have been stepped on a little harder, when I could have paused longer to build up suspense. When I stepped beside my taller counterparts, Kat and Kendrick were still glowing from the high of the stage. Still, something else caught my attention. Standing beside Slade was a tall, thin man in an overcoat. He had sharp cheekbones, thin lips and sharp silver eyes that seemed to see through everyone's skin. He had tousled dark curls and was dressed in formal attire and when he spoke he had a deep voice bordering on a tenor. Was this some sort of theatre reviewer or something?

"Astounding performance if one enjoyed such theatrics of the dramatic and morbid nature. Perhaps our serial killer will have not be attacking and has little interest in this performance due to its origin of the cast." He said in that deep, velvety voice. Was he mocking the fact that our show was American? Then, it registered what he had said and my brows furrowed.

"I'm sorry I must be missing something... Did you say killer?" I asked, stepping forward as I spoke and breaking away from the circle.

"Ah yes the elusive Lucy. I imagine you felt your talents already too well honed to attend rehearsals, arrogance that very well could have cost you your life. Ms Katherine Nash was debriefed on the precarious situation but as I have little time to meddle in theatrics we were unaware there was a second leading lady, though one could hardly call the roll of the harlot mentionable." he said, and as he spoke my cheeks began to puff out and redden. I pointed my finger and felt that southern sass building up as I was ready to give this arrogant British prick the whatfor. Then another voice spoke from the shadows of the dimly lit house seats and my attention was pulled elsewhere.

"Detective Inspector that is quite enough. Your childish complaining is becoming quite rude. If you'll notice the pallor of Ms. Montgomery you would have seen that she was ill yesterday as well as earlier today. The extra layer of make up under the eyes and the state of the strings holding the corset are a shade darker from where it is not usually pulled so tight and can only be caused by a sudden weight loss perhaps caused by a sudden viral infection of the gastrointestinal nature." he said, a voice filled with confidence and intelligence immediately causing every ounce of my frustration to disintegrate and baffling me with his knowledge and skills of deduction knowing I had been ill. There he stepped under the spotlight, a tall lean man with straight set shoulders in a perfect navy pinstriped suit, silky red tie and pocket handkerchief without a wrinkle in sight. I nearly swallowed my tongue at the lines of his face, the aristocratic nose and bright cerulean eyes. The stage lights made his gorgeous hair shimmer a remarkable shade of ginger. Never had a man's appearance impacted me so hard with attraction, his voice gorgeous when he spoke and the eloquence like butter melting over a hot roll.

I didn't have to gawk long and he saved me the embarrassment of speechlessness by reaching out his hand and saying, "Michael Blakeslee, Ms. Charlotte Montgomery." and I wondered how he knew my name, then remembered it was in the Playbill with my short bio. I grasped his hand carefully and nodding as politely as I could uttered, "Pleased to meet you." and gah did my voice sound husky and low because I was attracted to this man or from belting? I didn't dare admit to myself it could have been the latter.

Finally Slade intervened stating he would like to review the night's opening before more MI6 debriefing was completed. I figured I had already survived opening night and Kat was safe so that made perfect sense where I was concerned. I just wanted to be out from under the stunning and penetrating gaze of Michael, who seemed to be solving me like a mystery and deducing my every secret. I erected my actress' wall as I stepped back beside Kat and Kendrick. She eyed me nervously and I knew she had meant to fill me in when we were getting in costume but everything moved so fast backstage it was overwhelming. I told her 'no worries' with my eyes and she smiled nodding. As Slade spoke my eyes wondered to the handsome man again, busily focusing on his blackberry in his hand. I was so taken with him, men like him just didn't exist outside of my Jane Austen books. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what kind of man he was, what he was willing to fight for, the curve of his cheeks was perfect and he had cute ears. Ears? Really? I was losing it. Then, he looked over at me and my eyes bolted to my shoes as I nodded my head along in agreement with whatever the director was saying.

A half hour later I left the dressing room dressed in skinny jeans, riding boots, a flowy teal tank top and was sliding my arms into my tan leather jacket. Kat and Kendrick were going out to party in the city, but I didn't want to risk talking over loud music and losing my voice even more. Plus, I was excited to go back to my new apartment and despite the chill I was sure waited outside, I wanted to walk and take in the smells and lights of London. It might sound crazy but I loved the smell of Manhattan, the food vendors, the gas from taxis and cars, the mix of cologne and perfume as people made their way out to their plans for the evening. I knew it might be different here, but it would be the same in so many ways. I threw my ivory infinite scarf over my head as I opened the door and embraced the early spring chill. Just as I turned the corner out of the back alley, I saw the one and only Michael leaning against a country green, brand new jaguar, still busily texting on his blackberry holding a bouquet of white roses.

I actually flattered myself with thinking they might be for me, but then it occurred to me he was older, probably in his early thirties and had some beautiful British wife from a well-bred family soon to be meeting him. She might have worked for the theater or hosted charities there. I was moving past him when those gorgeous sapphire eyes met mine and completely immobilized me, like my boots had sunk into wet concrete.

"I would be honored if you would join me for tea, or coffee as you may prefer, so I may debrief you on the unsavory situation my brother brought to your attention tonight." he said in a low voice, the vocabulary and inflection with which he spoke causing my toes to curl in delight in my boots. He crossed the distance between us before we spoke and then he handed me those beautiful roses, rendering me further and utterly speechless. So the tall curly haired guy was his brother? So much information passed through my brain in that short moment I was sure smoke was coming out of my ears from the work my hard drive was putting in to process it all.

I wasn't a dumb country bumpkin anymore so I considered the roses carefully, wondering if I should get in this stranger's car? Common sense usually says no and there was a serial killer on the loose after all. How was he involved in the case, unless perhaps he was the serial killer? But, then I looked him up and down again and it struck me he was important. Government maybe? CIA or whatever they called it over here, MI6 I think. I fancied him as a James Bond type, and I suddenly shoved my wild girlie fantasies down. True to the hopeless romantic nature of a theatre and Literary student I just couldn't help be moved by his elegant speech pattern. Then, I regarded the roses and thought about when the last time was someone did something so kind and thoughtful. Sure, my boyfriends in college brought them to opening night, but they never really understood my passion for the stage. Leave it to those guys to tell me how only feminine ones enjoyed musicals, the same boys that thought rent was about sexuality and aids. It's not. Michael Blakeslee was a powerful man, and he was so impressed by my performance tonight he bought me roses. And you know what? I earned them. I killed it out there tonight, made myself Lucy and completely dominated her most difficult notes.

Another thought occurred to me which was the fact he might not take no for an answer. And I was curious, considering Kat already knew about this whole serial killer thing and since my life was in danger I might as well know how and why. And what to do to save my skin. He had a brow perfectly arched awaiting my response when I looked at him and nodded my head yes. He held open the door and I settled into the tan leather interior, Michael settling in beside me and allowing my nose to catch a whiff of his cologne. It was a wonderful smell, expensive and tasteful for him.

This confident man didn't allow any awkward silence to settle as he turned to me, tucking his blackberry within his inner suit pocket and said, "How are you enjoying London so far? It is my understanding you have taken up residence at a flat on Carnaby Street?".

I shook my head obviously baffled that he knew my home address and where it should have scared me it instead made me feel instantly safe, "How is it you know so much about me?" I asked.

A genuine smile crossed his lips, different from the one when he introduced himself on stage making me realize the difference was this one was unforced and he said, "I hold a minor position in the British government. I found it necessary to gather as much intelligence as possible on the cast members at risk. I do not want any reason for the American government to feel we did not put our best efforts in place to ensure the safety of the New York University students. Once I discovered your part in the performance I did what was necessary." he answered mildly, as if it was so normal for him to know I had a stomach bug yesterday and that I had moved to London permanently. I pursed my lips pondering his words before deciding that fact seemed fair enough, and looked out of the window beside me. As the car eased to a stop I followed him out of the vehicle, before Michael took the roses from my hand tenderly and laid them across the seat before closing the car door.

"Shouldn't I take them with me? I can walk home from here." I said, wanting to let him know I was a well cultured city girl accustomed to walking everywhere. Honestly I am a terrible driver, and my driver's ed teacher barely gave me my license back in Georgia. I had my learner's forever. Imagine my relief when I discovered New York and the fact I'd never need a car again.

 "How rude would it be of me, my dear, to allow you to walk to your flat in this spring chill after having caused you to be out well after nightfall?" he said closing the car door and then extending his elbow for me to take. It made me blush as I placed my small hand in the crook, feeling the wonderful material of the jacket he wore. He led me to a small café, his steps so sure and his back straight. Charm such as this was usually found on Southern gentlemen in Savannah or whenever those frat boys' mama's were watching, and then really rare in Manhattan. As I approached the door I noticed the place seemed locked up and closed for the night. I was surprised to find disappointment sweeping over me, I wanted to spend more time getting to know Michael. Then I mentally smacked myself in the forehead, I was here to find out about a serial killer, not swoon over this handsome man.

"Looks like we are too late, perhaps tomorrow-" I began to say as he suddenly reached past me and pulled the door open to the empty café. My mouth popped open in a most unladylike fashion as he waited for me to enter. I looked around and found a single table with the chairs still turned down and a few lights above it dimly glowing. I sat down gingerly as he pulled out my chair and folded his lean form into the seat across from me, no elbows on the table making me self conscious of my own behaviors. I tried to pull out some of my debutante breeding in an effort to seem well refined. Mycroft's eyes were filled with humor and delight, a small grin at the corner of his lips, but beneath that I sensed something else. He was powerful, I could feel it like the smell of his delicious cologne, and it was like inside he was caging a lion, something fierce burning beneath that perfectly knotted tie and impeccable suit with no lines or fuzz. Minor position my ass I thought.