No easy way out (2 page)

Virginia massaged the center of her forehead, her lips twisted
in wry self-derision. "Your mother hated me; I'm sure she threw a
party the day I left the Davises." She leaned back against the
bucket seat with retrospective eyelids closed as visions of the
past became more than haunted memories. "Well, your mother was no
different from any of the other foster families I was sent to. I
was an impossible, rotten brat who kept getting sent back to the
children's home. Bill and Hattie Davis put up with me for two
years-eighteen months longer than anyone else. And be honest,
Diane, during that time I gave you the roughest years of your
life."

Virginia slanted an indulgent gaze at her uncomfortably shifting
companion. "If the school psychiatrist hadn't found that my problem
was intellectual boredom and not willful disobedience, I would have
ended up in a juvenile detention center. I'm not proud of what I
was or what I did. As I grew older I developed a conscience and the
consuming need to change the direction of my life and my attitude."
She was quiet for a long moment, reliving all the years of
institutional living. An adolescent, angry and alone -for a long
time she had hated her parents for dying in a car accident and
leaving her with no one. The fear of being abandoned all over again
had made her rebel at becoming a part of any family, How much
trouble she had caused.

"When you're young, time passes very slowly. Or so I thought
until I was placed in an accelerated education program," Virginia
recounted in an oddly detached tone. "I was sent to various
agencies for extensive testing, placed in college, easily completed
graduate school, and got my doctorate. Then Briarcliff snapped me
up. I was so much younger than everyone. My only defense mechanism
against the barbs and comments was to withdraw, to become a
faultless machine, just like the computers and machines I was
building."

"Do you ... do you like your work?" Diane asked hesitantly.

"I really do," Virginia turned her head and smiled, her voice
was warm and vibrant. "I even bought a house. It's a Swiss chalet
A-frame right on Cocoa Beach. It's all mine, not the bank's. It's
my home; I own it. That is important to me." The words tumbled out,
vying for importance. "I don't mind living alone -actually I've
been alone all my life. I like being sent on different consulting
assignments. It's helped with my . . . well ... my toddler's
attention span. The projects I've worked on have really aided
people, and I like that too."

"I know; I've read your resume." Diane was quick to compliment.
"Your projects are staggering. Prosthetic limbs, artificial
larynges, silicon microchips for pacemakers. You've got every
reason to be proud."

Virginia shrugged modestly. "I did some fun things too. Last
year I was sent to the Far East to work on audio synthesizers for a
toy company. This year I'm creating a legion of lifelike robots and
thrashing, snorting dinosaurs at AVELCOMP that will be used in the
Epcot Center at Disney World."

"All the things you do are wonderful," Diane said earnestly.
"You're a phenomenal success, professionally. But what about your
personal life? You've forgotten how to have fun, to relax and enjoy
life."

"Maybe I'm doing penance for all the 'fun' I had fourteen years
ago."

"Stop talking nonsense," Diane admonished in a sharp tone.
"Getting some enjoyment out of life doesn't stop at a certain age
and not for a woman of twenty-nine, no matter what her career." She
gnawed her lower lip for a moment, came to a silent conclusion,
then grabbed a surprised Virginia by the shoulders and gave her a
resounding shake. "You are going to turn your life around tonight!
You are going to march up those steps and walk into that house and
have the best time of anyone at that party. You can do it-think of
yourself as Cinderella."

"I wish you had got me her costume," Virginia countered
remorsefully. "Look, Diane, maybe you're right; maybe I have been
sacrificing my personal life, but couldn't we start out on a
smaller scale and with more clothes?"

"No. As I recall, you still 'owe' me one challenge."

"What?"

Diane nodded smugly and opened the car door. "The reason I was
so late getting home from school and missed saying good-bye to you
was that I was busy plugging up all the water fountains with bubble
gum just like you dared me to do." She walked around to the
passenger side, pulled open the door, and held down a pair of pink
satin ears while Virginia carefully slid off the upholstered
seat.

"This isn't going to work," Virginia groaned, hastily restuffing
her swelling curves into the bodice of the skimpy costume.

"Bend your head so I can tie on your mask," Diane commanded,
wholly ignoring the latter's reluctant behavior. The black silk
mask edged with pink lace covered half of Virginia's face. "There,
now don't you feel . . . different?"

"Not particularly."

"Ohh . . ." Diane stamped her small slipper-shod foot
impatiently. "With that mask on you are totally unrecognizable.
Behind that satin shield you can act any way you want: flirt
outrageously, kick up your heels, and have fun. Turn this party
into your own fantasy world. Just play the coy, wide-eyed,
fluffy-headed bunny, and you'll have the time of your life." She
flashed Virginia a dimpled smile.

"Now, how do I look?" Diane straightened her tiny blue brocade
bodice and twirled slowly for inspection. The rainbow of colorful
scarves that formed her exotic harem outfit billowed enchantingly
around her petite figure. Her blond hair was pulled into a high,
braided ponytail. She attached a pale-blue scarf to a tiny hook on
a silver-sequined snood, draped it over her nose so it covered the
lower part of her face, and anchored it on another hair ornament.
Diane's sapphire eyes glowed with anticipation. She playfully
patted the glittering red ruby that was fastened with adhesive tape
to her navel.

"You look wonderful." Virginia smiled as they walked up the
drive to the dramatically lit mansion. "Diane, if I ... if I feel
too out of place, I'm going to come out to the car."

"Oh, all right." Diane finally relented. "But give yourself a
chance, Ginger. Remember, when you open your mouth, don't let
anything intelligent come out. If that's too much of a strain, then
don't say anything at all. Just bat those lashes, wiggle that fuzzy
pink tail, and I guarantee you'll be the bunny of the ball."

CHAPTER TWO

Heavy wooden doors creaked open in response to the summons of
the bell. Diane looked inquiringly at Virginia, who gave a casual
shrug before proceeding into the dimly lit entry hall. Immediately
both women became entangled in tenacious, gossamer webs, courtesy
of a large, rather hairy arachnid that was clinging to the ornately
carved door frame.

"Both are synthetic," Virginia quickly announced over her
companion's loud shriek. She rolled the sticky fibers off her bare
skin and helped Diane free herself from the spider web.

The front doors slammed shut with a sharp bang, which caused
them both to jump. Two pairs of blue eyes blinked around the large
high-ceilinged foyer, which was alive with eerie, moving shadows,
courtesy of medieval torches that housed modern flickering amber
light bulbs. Music and laughter echoed in the distance, but only
three closed doors greeted them. Doors that stood silent as
tombs.

"The lady, the tiger, or freedom," Virginia intoned in a dry
soprano.

"I told you Quimby
lived
for Halloween," Diane whispered,
her eyes darting around uncomfortably. "Mathematically speaking,
which door leads to the party?"

Virginia, grinning, cast her a wary glance. "Your guess is as
good as mine." Her heels clicked loudly against the marble
flooring. She turned the French latch and pulled open an arched oak
door.

A bloodred glow illuminated the inside of a large closet and a
black casket. The lid of the casket shuddered open, emitting a
cloud of ancient soot and then a severed, rotted, flesh-covered
hand, which beckoned to the new arrivals. Quickly, forcefully,
Diane slammed the door shut.

"Mechanical," Virginia soothed, her lips twitching with
amusement.

Diane coughed self-consciously. "I'll open the next one," came
her courageous offer. She took a deep breath and yanked open the
second door. Her petite body grew inches taller with rigidity. Her
words erupted into little squeaks. "Remember that . . . that tiger
. . . ?"

Virginia crossed over and peered into yet another closet. A
jungle cat was indeed sitting there. Three hundred pounds of pure
muscle and stripes. Massive jaws opened to display a vivid expanse
of sharp dental work. The feline looked in need of a meal and
extremely real.

"It's a hologram," Virginia told her, her tone tinged with
respect for their as-yet-unseen host.

"One of the best I've ever seen. Laser beams that project a
three-dimensional image."

"Of course it is," Diane cracked, and hastily slammed the door
on an exceptionally lifelike animal.

"Process of elimination," Virginia announced, turning the third
and final knob. A shower of colorful streamers and confetti covered
them amid a triumphant musical fanfare.

"Good evening, ladies."

Both women turned their heads, their eyes rising to focus on a
seven-foot gorilla. The furry, perpetually grinning reception
committee was bearing a tray of assorted beverages.

"Lead on, King Kong," Diane directed, after taking two tall
glasses from among the potent selections. "Here, drink this," she
directed Virginia, "it'll calm
your
nerves."

They stood on the threshold of a huge ballroom filled with
laughing, dancing, costumed people. The high domed ceiling was
lavishly decorated with balloons and streamers in the black and
orange colors of Halloween. A large, slowly rotating silver ball
sent a shower of stars over the pulsating crowd.

Virginia stared in fascination at the collection of masked,
writhing humanity. It was the epitome of a Hollywood movie set:
Roman gladiators mingled with cowboys and dance-hall girls while
various monsters and outer-space creatures moved their
rubber-costumed bodies in perfect rhythm to the music.

Charlie Chaplin was dancing with Mae West. Harpo Marx
duck-walked past, his foghorn bleating a lascivious hello. A hula
dancer was demonstrating the latest disco moves to a short, fat man
dressed as a bumblebee.

The atmosphere was exciting, electric, and contagious. It
permeated Virginia's senses as deftly as the throbbing music
invaded her soul. She quickly rechecked the security of her satin
mask while her feet carried her farther into the action.

"Notice Julius Caesar?" Diane hissed as she led her past the
band toward the crowded bar. "That's Quimby. I'd know that potbelly
and bald head anywhere. Talk about typecasting!"

"Just how wild will this party get?" Virginia whispered, her
blue gaze deliberately settling on an entwined twosome in a nearby
shadowed corner. The woman, attired as a French apache dancer, was
determinedly embracing a scantily clad Indian.

Diane followed her line of vision. "Not too wild," she insisted,
with a lilt in her voice. "Remember, these masks come off at
midnight, and we all have to face one another at the water cooler
on Monday morning. Damn," she muttered, "there are two other harem
dancers here."

"You outshine them both," Virginia reassured her. "Oh, oh, a
cowboy at three o'clock." She hastily gulped down a mouthful of
liquor and placed the glass on the bar. The potent liquid soothed
her instant onslaught of panic.

"Remember," Diane reminded her, "just coo and flirt."

Without the preamble of an invitation Virginia found herself
whisked onto the dance floor by a tall red-haired man in western
garb. The band, its members the only people not in costume, had
switched to a slower number.

Her black-masked partner tightened his hold around her slim
waist. His deep voice drawled intimately into her ear. "You are
absolutely the most delectable thing in the room."

"Ohh, thank you," Virginia cooed, her long dark lashes fanning
at him through the slits of her mask. She had been worried about
following his lead, but it seemed he was content to just stand and
rock back and forth to the slow, seductive beat.

"Hmmm, I could just eat you up!" The cowboy favored her with a
bone-cracking hug. "What shall I call you?" His hot breath scorched
her cheek.

"How about... Bunny?" came her affected rejoiner. Virginia
licked her pink-tinted lips with the provocative tip of her tongue.
Her hands slid down the front of his plaid, silver-studded shirt
and adroitly pushed away his warm, hard body.

A low chuckle escaped the cowboy. He deliberately ignored the
gesture and let his hands liberally roam over the creamy expanse of
her bare shoulders. "You have two of the cutest . . . ears."

Virginia was tempted to tell him that her ears were about a foot
and a half higher than where his dark gaze seemed to be lingering,
but instead she managed an enchanting giggle. Moments later the
cowboy was replaced by an intricately wrapped mummy whose hazel
eyes never wavered from her ample cleavage.

Virginia continued to flutter her lashes and babble meaningless
inanities. The mummy, however, proved to be a better dancer than
conversationalist. On one of his whirling spins Virginia spied
Diane dancing close with a broad-shouldered Robin Hood.

The music changed and so did her partner. Virginia was spared
flirting with Count Dracula by the necessity of concentrating on
the latest disco steps. Her brain calibrated the movements and
intricacies of the other dancers, absorbed the kinetics, until she
found herself easily duplicating their gestures.

A powerfully built lumberjack used his rubber ax to edge aside
the vampire in a bid for her attention. Virginia barely noticed.
She had turned the obstacle of learning to dance into a challenge
and the challenge into an accomplishment. Her dancing became
progressively more uninhibited. Her body was light and buoyant and
relaxed, and her mind reveled in this newly discovered world of
rhythm.