"The Belle" -- July 21

Word count: 1200

The Belle

“Send in number 5.”

“Won’t they wonder what’s going on?”

“It’s a mansion. This guy wipes up his dog messes with hundred-dollar bills. They won’t care.”

“Sending in number 5. Room G.”

“Hailey, monitor Room G.”

“On it.”

****

Lady Carmichael stood six feet tall without heels and she was ravishingly beautiful. She wore a dress studded with tiny crystals that reflected the light in a halo around her. Her teeth were brilliantly white, her eyes large and seductive, her shoulders strong and sculpted. She stood in the center of a flock of men, all immaculately dressed and sporting various colors of bow tie.

“There are many beautiful women here tonight, but you, my dear, are sparkling.”

“What will your wife say to that?” Lady Carmichael said, relieving the man who had addressed her of a champagne glass and lightly smacking his hand with her fan.

Neville put the hand in the pocket of his maroon slacks, flashing her a smile almost as dazzling as the crystals on her dress. “This is the most splendid outfit I think I’ve ever seen you in.”

“Better than the Moroccan Prince’s cocktail party?”

Neville pursed his lips and nodded. “Better than that—by a hair.”

“I knew I could rely on your honesty.”

“How many compliments like that have you gotten tonight?”

Lady Carmichael raised her manicured fingers dramatically to her forehead. “More than I can count.”

“As you deserve. Can you dance in that getup?”

“What a question. What kind of dancing?”

Neville offered her his arm and they proceeded together into the ballroom. A crystal chandelier caught the light and flung it sparkling around the room. A handful of young people danced together, brilliant colors meshing with blacks and blues, as a live band played.

“Unless you prefer a different kind of dancing,” Neville said. “There’s a disco in the North Ballroom.”

“This is perfect.” Lady Carmichael swept onto the floor in a shower of sparkles that rivaled the chandelier.

Lady Carmichael was fascinating. Neville couldn’t keep his eyes off her. As they spun around the room, laughing and chatting, his eyes bored deep into hers or devoured her face like it was the last beautiful thing on earth.

When they had had enough of dancing, Neville brought Lady Carmichael more champagne and they stood in the corner of the room, watching the others dance.

“How is Angie, Mr. Neville?”

Neville shook his head. “Broke up a few months ago, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I guess you could say I’m on the market.” Neville showed all his teeth in a laugh.

“Don’t talk like that. Tell me about the cruise. Did you know her plans before you went?” Lady Carmichael painted a smile onto her face and listened.

“No, actually. We went—"

His eyes left her face. His voice trailed off.

Lady Carmichael followed his eyes.

Standing in the doorway was a woman angelic in her beauty. She wore a sky-blue dress and brilliant white gloves and her brilliant orange hair cascaded down her back. She caught the eyes of the room as soon as she entered. In a moment, a dozen young men clustered around her, and within two minutes, one of them had her as a partner for the dance.

“Excuse me,” Neville said, giving Lady Carmichael a smile and depositing his wine glass on a table of half-empty glasses. A moment later he had appeared in the crowd around the new arrival.

The champagne turned bitter in Lady Carmichael’s mouth and she strode from the room in a forgotten, ignored shimmer of light.

****

“What’s our status?”

“Number 5 has moved from Room G. Guests appear normal.”

“Numbers 3 and 4?”

“3 became unresponsive due to overstimulation from disco lights. 4 became unresponsive in bathroom 8 while attempting to recalibrate. The others are still circulating.”

“What room is 5 in right now?”

“B.”

“Good. Keep monitoring.”

****

Lady Carmichael made her way to the bar. She leaned one elbow on the reflective countertop, watching a knot of people around the brilliant blue and orange girl.

Their eyes were not turned on her. Neville’s eyes were not turned on her. She frowned, tapping her fan against the counter.

Lady Carmichael laid her fan on the counter and rose, striding toward the group like an Amazon on the warpath. She entered the group in a swirl of sparkles and smiles.

Neville turned to her with a startled look.

Lady Carmichael maneuvered her body to separate him slightly from the group. “Neville, do introduce me to your friend,” she said under her breath.

“Oh, yes!” Neville took Lady Carmichael’s elbow. “Alicia, this is Lady Carmichael.”

Lady Carmichael held out her hand and Alicia shook it gently. Like a walking doll, she had flawless skin and brilliant eyes.

“Charmed,” Lady Carmichael said. “Will you join me for a drink?”

The three settled at the bar, where Lady Carmichael called for a round of drinks. Putting on her widest and most ingratiating smile, she plied Alicia with questions.

Neville finished his fourth cocktail and smacked the glass back down on the bar. He leaned toward Lady Carmichael. “You know,” he said under his breath. “You are the most beautiful woman I had ever seen until I saw her.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Alicia, who frowned as she pushed three glasses toward the bartender.

Lady Carmichael signaled for another bottle of champagne and gave Neville a thin smile.

“Alicia,” Lady Carmichael said, leaning over. “Where did you go to school?”

The blue and orange girl raised her fourth glass of champagne. “I went to…Yale. Business degree. Tommy went there too.”

“Tommy?”

Alicia waved her glass. Her eyes were wide and a little too bright, her movements a little too stiff, her smile too rigid.

“Someone I used to see.”

On her other side, Lady Carmichael felt Neville melt at the mention of Tommy. She allowed herself a small, secret smile.

Alicia lifted her glass to drain it, mumbling something about Tommy and his law degree, her cheeks flushed attractively, but as she put the glass to her lips, her arm convulsed, and the glass flew across the room. It shattered on the floor to the accompaniment of half a dozen screams. Lady Carmichael pulled back, startled by the violence of the movement.

Alicia stood up, her entire body shaking, hair flying. Her dress ripped down the side and she barely made an effort to hold it together. Her lips had pulled back over her teeth in a wide grimace.

Lady Carmichael screamed. Neville nearly fell off his bar stool as he pushed back and fled the room.

Alicia fell to the floor. A faint smell of burnt metal filled the room, and a tiny wisp of smoke rose from Alicia’s mouth. Her torn dress revealed a network of wires beneath her skin.

Lady Carmichael was left standing over the mess. Once again all eyes were on her.

****

“What just happened?”

“Overabundance of alcohol, sir. The unit malfunctioned.”

“You mean you made robots that can’t hold their liquor?”

“Regardless, I would call this a success.”

“That depends on how you define success.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, type this up. I want it on my desk as soon as possible.”