Requiem for Revenge

Party Favors

                                                                                        Past

The vast Victorian banquet hall was filled with the loud clinking of celebratory glasses, sounds of laughter, and boisterous merriment. Pursing my lips, I blew out a breath to get a curl out of my face as I prepared to make my way to a table of gentlemen who were cackling loudly to one another. Sliding behind the bar, I snatched up a cloth and began carefully shining the wine glasses; checking for any specks of dirt or debris that might decide to show itself whilst being held in the light by the patrons. Picking up a serving platter, I placed each glass on its surface before popping open a bottle of refined Pinot and filling them halfway with its contents. I grabbed the cloth once more to rid a fingerprint from the stem one of the glasses. I felt anxious for some odd reason I couldn't possibly even begin to pinpoint. It was causing my hands to sweat, and the back of my neck felt damp from the way the air licked at my skin with each turn of my head. 

Ugh, I hate these parties...

The surface of the platter full of wine glasses, now hoisted upon my hand and shoulder, was a cold contrast to my clammy skin. Nights like this always made me nervous. Highrollers from all over came and watched the girls' rehearsed performances whilst requesting their company later that evening. The bigger the status of the roller, the bigger the roll of monetary compensation for their services. My eyes scan the room quickly for Luciana, my roommate, and friend, whom I surprisingly found giggling and squealing in the lap of Donovan Hannover.  If you wished to buy any property within London Square, he was the man you answered to; owning a plethora of houses and businesses that could exceed millions in revenue. As you can see, the term "Highroller" is undoubtedly a gross understatement in the power and status he and men of his caliber uphold. 

Donovan was an uptight brute in my opinion. Very shrewd and "stuffy" which enabled him immune to the woes of women, and revel in the ability to have such vigorous amounts of money at his disposal. And boy did he have a horrible concept of flattery, in which he believed his mere presence alone would be the highlight of anyone's day. Terribly egotistical, so much so, that his shallowness could rival that of the deepest ocean. I shook my head in sympathy as Luciana begged for his attention to be on her. Her caressing hands immediately snatched from his face by his own, my teeth began to grind in annoyance.  

As I neared the table, the men were in a heated discussion about something. I paid no attention to their babbling as I focused on not spilling or dropping anything on anyone, myself included.

 "Here you are, gentleman."

 I carefully, sat the plate upon the edge of the table, picking up each wine glass before setting them respectively in front of each person. Gathering up the platter, I tucked it against my stomach before tilting my head for my hair to tumble lightly over my shoulder, as a seductive smile formed my mouth. "Is there anything else I may get for you?" 

The man to my left circled a finger slowly around the rim of his glass as his eyes raked unashamedly over my figure. He licked his lips and spoke in a calculative tone. "My dear, how old are you?"  

A bit taken aback by his sudden inquiry, I countered, "I am 22, Sir. May I inquire as to the reason you wish to know?"

He shrugged in a noncommittal  fashion his mouth thinning into a flat line, "Just...there have been rumors."

"Rumours? Why, whatever do you mean?"

"There is a little whistle in the wind this house may be privy to underprivileged adolescent girls from the streets and offer them a place of...let's refer to it as 'security' if you will." He sighed and set back in his seat, his hand running down the thick beard lacing either side of his jawline.