Curfew Under Management

10

CHAPTER 10

11:10 PM

The long drive to Manhattan was exceptionally one I cannot forget. With me pressed closely to the guy who had me at the offer of pizza, and kept me at the wonder of his gaze, I had the hell of a good ride. Despite the notion of actually getting Casey back, what happens if we don't? This is it. The place where we get truth. If we don't find any of the Fisher brothers or worse, they have nothing to do with the kidnapping, what will make of our plan? Of our hope? Of us?

Recently, my mind has a battalion of questions flooding through it, and I've gone too far to bail now. "You sure about this?" I ask him, as he stands next to me at the entrance of the function hall. He is once again wearing his blazer, and I'm stuck with an uncovered back.

"It's the only thing we got." He shrugs.

"Names please." The scrawny old man in a tuxedo inquires.

"Conroy. Dexter Conroy." He states.

The man lifts his glasses a bit, and puts it back again. He looks over at Dexter, and back to the clip board on the podium before he speaks. "I apologize, Mr. Conroy, but it seems that you're not on the list for tonight's event."

"But my parents are on that list, Alexandra and Jordan Conroy?" He gestures towards the paper.

"Yes, they are, but this is exclusive for invited members of the Fisher Corporation only. I've been given strict instructions for that matter." His aged voice reasons. "Have a splendid night, Mr. Conroy." He dismisses us.

Without further protest, Dexter grabs me by the hand, and takes me to the other hall. "Where are we going?" I ask neutrally.

"We're getting in." He deadpans.

"And how do you suppose we do that?" I humor him. That's about the only good thing I can manage to do right now.

He looks at me. "The best way we know how."

11:16 PM

If sneaking through the back door of establishments had an entry in the olympics, we'd be gold medalists by now. Dexter and I had snuck into the kitchen staff's entrance. Good thing the employees are at their busiest or else we could've gotten busted. Either that, or they just don't care. Dexter and I make our way to the main ballroom, or should I say the gold-plated dome with the size of an observatory. The whole hall is dimly lit with shimmering chandeliers, and glowing chardonnay glass pyramids. The spotlight is directed towards a microphone stand infront of a backdrop displaying the phrase:

"Fisher Corp. 64th anniversary"

Everyone seems to be dressed in prices that ranged from one of everything in Starbucks combined to college tuition.

"Do you see him yet?" I ask Dexter.

"No." His gaze navigates the venue.

And just as one of the lights reign down on the small crowd occupying the dance floor, I think I see his face. Keandré Fisher. Immediately, I grab Dexter's hand, and stalk down towards the kidnapper's direction. Keandré is oblivious that we are coming his way, yet in a few unsupervised moments, he manages to vanish from view. By the time Dexter and I reach the dancing pairs, the song changes into a familiar slow tune. The lights shift color, and every match on the floor is swaying to the piano keys of the music. That is, except for me and Dexter. "I thought I saw him nearby." I tell Conroy.

I guess it's true I'm not good with a one night stand. Sam Smith's curly notes enchant the whole room. But I still need love cause I'm just a man.