Masquerade

Nine.

"Fitting in allows you to blend in with everyone else, but being different allows you to be yourself, to be unique and to  ."

-Sonya Parker

John waited for her with an outstretched hand at the bottom of a staircase. A small smile was placed on his lips as though he was remembering the earlier teases she had put him through. He was very handsome, and he cleaned up very well. In another life she would be thrilled to be on his arm, and he would be a businessman or something equally successful-a parallel not afforded to the years she was wasting in this existence.

"You look beautiful," he offered her and she shrugged. Of course she looked pretty, Ada and Polly had plucked, painted, and pulled every imperfection away from her. Her cheeks were accentuated with fine pink rouge, and her eyelashes were painted with mascara, each hair becoming its own accent to her beauty. Her face felt heavy. She had left behind all things vain when she abandoned her mother's home-a sacrifice she had been all to happy to make. Her face was dolled up daily, like she was a display for wandering men and women to take in. Rose was none of those things. She was demure, unnoticed, all of the things Aniyah had wanted, at least to some degree. Once again feeling the enhancements on her face felt like a betrayal of all of the things she had so carefully become.

"You look very nice as well." The compliment was meant sincerely. John did look very good, but her words sounded hollow, and with the delivery John's lips twitched downward. The falter was only momentary, however, before his smile returned, though this time it was visibly artificial. We all play some sort of role, Aniyah had begun to understand this dance- Tommy was the puppeteer, pulling all of their strings, and they were all expected to go along with each tug with an artificial smile and blind allegiance.

"I am sorry. I don't mean to be rude-" John cut her off with a shrug, his eyes no longer locked on her but on someone behind her. When she turned she could see Grace, draped in an emerald gown and holding onto the hand of one Thomas Shelby. She looked incredibly ordinary, but still she entranced the men around. Aniyah could see she had largely underestimated the challenge the woman presented. Not that she felt like she had to compete for the attentions she did not particularly desire, but it did serve a reminder that Grace was brought out of desire of her company, and Aniyah was brought only as an employee.

"Rose, lovely of you to join us," Tommy spoke, his voice as sultry as ever. "I have left John with very specific instructions to give you a good time." John laughed lightly next to her before wrapping his hand even tighter around her own, as though they were now partners, never to be untangled.

"I do believe I am fully capable of giving myself a good time, but it was kind of you to think of me." She noted the contortion of Grace's face every time she spoke. There was a fundamental dislike there between the pair of them, and Aniyah was unsure of why. But still, she had grown to see a snake when it was ready to strike, and Grace was poised and ready.

The four of them proceeded to walk down into the ballroom, where people chatted away over crystal glasses of champagne. The sight pulled on her, threatening to send her into the past. She tried her best to swallow the sensation down. Her mother was not here. She did not have to fear her. She could feel her hands begin to shake, something that did not go unnoticed by John, who tried his best to comfort her, squeezing her hand gently and bringing her closer to his body. The gesture did bring about a warmth inside her, and for a moment she wondered if she had the wrong idea of the younger Shelby boy. Perhaps the only rotten one was Tommy, everyone else just happened to be an apple on the tree.

"Are we here for any particular reason?" She whispered to John who shrugged his shoulders.

"Sometimes we just show up to these things as a formality. Show a bit of face, let Tommy do his thing, and go home. You know- show people you're powerful so they believe you're powerful."

"Real power does not need to be shown though."

"Yes, but sometimes people just need a little reminder. See, that there" he pointed to a portly man who was laughing heartily to something his partner had said; "that is Jonathan Sallows. He has three factories down by the river, now normally he pays all his dues on time. But lately he has been demanding a bit more of the blinders, but not willing to pay. Says he controls the land."

"But doesn't he?" John giggled at her question, his arms disentangling from hers so that he could light himself a cigarette.

"I suppose you could say he does. But it's awfully hard to own a factory if it burns down to the ground."

"You wouldn't!" The notion of burning down a mans livelihood was incredulous. Even the Shelby family had to have their limits, surely.

John inhaled deeply, and watched as the wisps of smoke curled through the air. "Nah, we probably wouldn't. But maybe the Irish, maybe the Italians. Maybe anyone really. They don't pay us to keep up their appearances. They pay us for protection. And what happens when that goes away? Things are vulnerable. So we sometimes show up, show our faces, and at the same time maybe there's some windows breaking in places we aren't. And then he remembers why paying us is so important. And all we have to do is show up with a few pretty birds, and look him in the eye and he knows. He won't be late in his payments again."

"Thats disgusting."

"Everyone is disgusting if you give them enough time." Her mind traveled back to the confrontation earlier in the day and wondered if that was why her land lady disliked the family so much- she could see who and what they were without any smoke and mirrors. She could simply see the evil behind the smiles. The thought sent chills down Aniyah's spine.

"Here," John said, tossing his suit jacket over her shoulders, mistaking her discomfort for cold. She smiled at him, thanking him as genuinely as she could.

"So we are here for nothing then?" She asked John who turned to look at her.

"I didn't say that. I said sometimes we come for nothing. But tonight we are working. Stop asking questions and just sit back and have fun. If you were supposed to know what we are doing, then you would. Grace isn't out there asking questions. She is out there smiling, and laughing, sipping on some champagne. Why can't you do that?"

"I was raised by a monster." She grabbed the cigarette from John and took a deep inhale, allowing the smoke to coat the insides of her lungs, wiping away bits of stress. "Forgive me if I would like to know what I am doing while I am doing it. Only dogs follow people blindly."

"And you do not consider yourself a dog?"

She scoffed at the notion. "Why would you think I was?"

John grabbed his smoke back from her, his face looking amused once more. "I don't know, doll, you're here, in a new dress. Face it dear- Tommy whistled and you came running."

"You listen to me John Shelby- I am no dog, and I do not jump when people tell me."

"And yet here you are..." She did not have a chance to retort. The door to the room was thrown open, with smoke starting to bellow in like curtains, unable to see through its density. The sensations were overwhelming, and she began to choke.

"Finally, the show begins." John laughed and pulled her forward-encapsulating both of them in the thick smoke.

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