Cara MIA - Book One Of The Immortyl Revolution Part 5

"Remember those three chicks in Dracula? His so-called brides brides who attack Harker? Ever wonder what their story was? How'd they end up there and what did they do with their considerable time? It wasn't like he just flew into my bedroom window as a bat or something. There are circ.u.mstances leading up. who attack Harker? Ever wonder what their story was? How'd they end up there and what did they do with their considerable time? It wasn't like he just flew into my bedroom window as a bat or something. There are circ.u.mstances leading up.

My parents emigrated from Italy in nineteen thirty. He was the son of a minor aristocrat and she was a servant. She was pregnant. He was an operatic tenor. Needless to say, they weren't exactly well off. My mother died at my birth, and my father followed when I was eleven. After an abusive Catholic upbringing by my father's spinster sister Selena, I ran off to Manhattan to become an actress.

Two years of pounding the pavement got me a break in a play directed by an acting teacher of mine, a married man who took me as his protegee and mistress. The play was Ibsen's Master Builder. Master Builder. Not that that means a thing to you, Joe, but the antagonist Hilde is a dream part for a young actress, no simpering ingenue, but a first-cla.s.s demon with the power to drive a man to his death. It's a s.e.xual power struggle between a young woman, Hilde, and the older t.i.tular character, Solness. At this point, I was barely aware of the awesome power of this primal force, but I was a quick learner. Not that that means a thing to you, Joe, but the antagonist Hilde is a dream part for a young actress, no simpering ingenue, but a first-cla.s.s demon with the power to drive a man to his death. It's a s.e.xual power struggle between a young woman, Hilde, and the older t.i.tular character, Solness. At this point, I was barely aware of the awesome power of this primal force, but I was a quick learner.

I'll never forget that nasty, rainy December night when I first met my fate. I was busy smearing cold cream on my face to remove my make up when the a.s.sistant stage manager knocked on the door of the dressing room I shared with two female cast members. I was always the last one out. This was my time to go over the performance mentally and a.n.a.lyze what had worked and what hadn't, to retain anything new I'd found in the character.

"Hey Mia, some guy out in the lobby wants to meet you."

The occasional audience member wanted to chat but most of these guys weren't really interested in my acting. Making a face in the mirror I called back, "Anyone important?"

"Never heard of him, but this one's created quite a stir with the female staff."

Well, that was different. Apparently, this one was a looker looker. What would be the harm? "Be right out. Let him into the green room," I hollered.

The first sight of him was if I'd been dealt a blow to the gut, a good sock right in the old breadbasket. I had to gasp for air. If a G.o.d walked on earth, surely this was one. And yet he looked vaguely familiar... The naughty boy had the audacity to take the form of my erotic fantasies. Gorgeous body, tall, strong, high cheekbones, straight flawlessly formed nose, firm and determined jaw, all crowned with a ma.s.s of thick, straight, coal black hair. But it was his eyes that ripped my heart out of my chest. They were blue, not the bright blue of cornflowers on a summer's day, or the soft blue of a robin's egg in spring, but the cold blue of frozen winter seas, almost white in their chilly brilliance, the irises surrounded by a thin black ring that caused them to stand out in stunning contrast to his l.u.s.trous midnight hair.

He smiled at me, arrogance in his full mouth. What a bad, bad boy! His expensive black suit hung on that six-four frame like it'd been placed there by a legion of devils out to enslave hapless females who crossed his path.

A long white manicured hand reached out to mine. I averted my eyes. The l.u.s.ter of this creature was too brilliant for mortal sight. Power emanated from him and I was drawn irresistibly- knees weak, dripping wet wet. My heart raced in my chest to keep up with the frantic pace of the intimate pictures forming in my brain.

I stole another glance. Icy eyes locked on mine and a most intriguing grin enlivened his hauteur. Recognition, something in my expression he liked.

When at last he spoke, I melted. His voice was deep and rich as a perfectly tuned cello, and to top it off a soft southern accent, infinitely pleasing in its highs and lows, warm and lazy as a summer breeze. "Miss Disantini? Very pleased to make your acquaintance. I enjoyed your performance immensely. You have an extraordinary gift. I shall be keeping my eye on you."

My mouth parted. I lost all sense of place and time, imprisoned like Merlin, rendered powerless in the crystalline ice caves of his eyes. Yet, in spite of the chill, there was heat in my veins. If he'd said come, I'd have gone- no question. I managed to summon my voice. "Thank you, Mr... ."

A flush overcame me. My knees sagged. He caught my elbow and steadied me. The marble-hard hand was hot through the wool of my dress. His eyes mocked me as if they were used to young women swooning under their gaze. "Miss Disantini? Are you poorly?"

I lied of course. "Just a little tired after my performance."

"Such a role requires great insight." He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. "You've captured her spirit very well and that's not an easy task."

I was baffled by his knowledge. "You're an actor?"

Well, he looked looked like a matinee idol. Cold eyes lit up and his face creased in merriment, he laughed, guffawed even, a rich rolling sound from deep within his chest. like a matinee idol. Cold eyes lit up and his face creased in merriment, he laughed, guffawed even, a rich rolling sound from deep within his chest.

"Miss Disantini, you're a very charming young lady. Might I ask- "

He never finished the sentence because my lover, Richard, came into the Green Room, calling out to me impatiently. The beautiful stranger threw him a withering look.

I hated to tear myself away from this apparition of delight. "Master's voice- gotta run."

"Until we meet again Miss Disantini. A privilege."

I half expected him to bend over and kiss my hand he was so very courtly and archaic, yet he merely gripped it firmly and then turned to go. I tingled all over. Cast and crew parted like the Red Sea to let him pa.s.s, not one head topping his. I'd never seen anything like him. He positively glittered glittered.

In the bedroom that night, I met Richard's caresses with a fervor that surprised us both, but it wasn't him I made love to. It was the dark one of my dreams.

The play had gotten me notice and I was asked to audition to replace another young actress in a Broadway hit. I would take over when my run ended in The Master Builder The Master Builder. My career was going along swimmingly. February of nineteen fifty, I turned twenty. Richard planned to take me out after the show for dinner, dancing and the whole nine yards. I splurged on a new evening dress, black satin, cut down to there. I felt sophisticated and devastatingly chic in it. The saleswoman a.s.sured me black was my color. I can't tell you how many times I've heard that.

What had become of my stranger? Probably squiring swan-necked debutantes in limousines, drinking champagne from their slippers and that bulls.h.i.+t, I a.s.sured myself. He looked like he had a pedigree worthy of the royal family. What could he possibly want with a five-foot-two daughter of immigrants?

After the show, I sat at the dressing table as was my habit, going over the play, humming and removing makeup, when Richard rushed into the room in a fl.u.s.ter. His wife had decided to attend the performance with some friends. He ran off to intercept them while I wiped the last traces of make up away. My face looked pale and oh so very young. Who was I? Some little wop from Brooklyn he'd picked up from his acting cla.s.s. She was older, rich and for-G.o.d-sakes married to him.

The door opened and they piled in, three women and two men besides Richard. The women all had that look, polished and expensive, like yachts. The youngest was about forty, tall, blonde and if not beautiful, elegant. Katherine was hardly the gorgon I'd expected.

She cooed over me. "Isn't she just adorable? Where did did you find that destructive streak, darling? We should all watch out for her." The others t.i.ttered. "Of course, Richard always has a knack for spotting you find that destructive streak, darling? We should all watch out for her." The others t.i.ttered. "Of course, Richard always has a knack for spotting young talent young talent."

Her subtext was clear. She knew. I wasn't the first; she'd been through it all before. It was clearly a warning for me to stay put in my proper place. It was like I'd swallowed a baseball, one with the sawdust leaking out. My eyes started to tear up as I bit my lip.

A smug smile fluttered over Katherine's face. "Come Richard, we've reservations at Twenty One. Goodbye Miss Disantini- good luck on the rest of your run. run."

She didn't mean the play, I a.s.sure you. I waited until they'd gone before I put my head down on the dressing table and cried. He'd never leave her for me. I was a naive little fool to believe it. After this catharsis, I was h.e.l.l-bent on revenge and wished for some way of getting back at Richard. As I always say, be careful what you wish for...

My tears dried, I put on my new clothes intending to join my friends at Salvi's. I left the theatre and stood on the corner waiting for the light to change. Then, like some genie, he materialized before me on the sidewalk. My prayers were answered, but by whom I'll never know, because it was him, my beautiful stranger, six-four of him towering over me. I s.h.i.+vered over his sheer size, again I felt faint. He was as foreign to my Italian-American sensibilities as an extra terrestrial, the ant.i.thesis of everything I was. Boy, how opposites can attract.

He spoke in that gorgeous drawl, "Miss Disantini! I looked in on your performance again but I'm afraid I was unable to speak with you. The stagehand told me you were otherwise engaged. I do apologize."

I tried to sound casual. As if I could really fool him him. "Oh, it's you, Mr?"

"Sinclair." Sin-cleah. Sin-cleah. I might have died, definitely not from my neighborhood. "Are you on your way somewhere?" I might have died, definitely not from my neighborhood. "Are you on your way somewhere?"

Some-wheah, he says and I'm melting like honey over hot biscuits. I milked it for all it was worth. "Home." I sniffled for effect. "Plans kinda fell through."

He suppressed a smile, obviously not overwhelmed by my tragic performance. "Delightful- I mean for me. May I invite you for supper?"

Suppah, breakfast, anywheah.

"Lovely, may I suggest a place?" My, I was being bold but my wish required being seen.

"Of course, I intended to ask for your recommendation."

So-o-o accommodating. I wanted to accommodate him right then and there. "Well, it's probably not what you're used to- but the food is great, real Italian. It's just right around the corner," I said, longing to show him some real Italian cooking straight through to dessert.

Knowing I was up to something, he offered his arm. "Lead on, Miss Disantini... "

And off we went on a little date with destiny...

Salvi's was crowded and noisy, one of those great little places with tacky paintings of the Italian countryside on the wall and signed photographs of celebrities. My glossy was displayed along with the rest. Mr. Salvi had a soft spot for me. My friends were seated at their regular table trading insults and witticisms, imbibing vast quant.i.ties of cheap Chianti. I waved to them. They applauded and whistled. We were duly noted.

Mr. Salvi, a short rotund man in his sixties with a perpetually red face bustled up. He greeted me, kissing my cheeks, "Ah Miss Mia, the prettiest little girl in New York!"

I planted a big smack on his lips. "Howya doin' Mr. Salvi?"

"Can't complain, business is good and you're here. Will you be joining your friends?"

I grinned back and winked. "Table for two, if you please."

He nudged me in the ribs. "Nice young man, eh? Much better for a young lady, yes?"

I replied in an exaggerated stage whisper, "I'm inclined to agree with you."

My companion cast a sidelong glance at me. All part of the show, but I was playing in earnest tonight. I'd actually forgotten Richard for a moment. Present company was beyond thrilling.

We made our way through the maze of crowded little tables. He helped me into my chair. Lovely manners, of course good manners were more common back then but his were always impeccable. When he took his seat he leaned over the table to me and said in a sort of low growl, "Am I being used, Miss Disantini?"

I grinned back. "You're on to me Mr. Sinclair." Oh, Mr. Sinclair with an accent on the sin sin.

"I saw your... friend friend, leaving with... the others."

"His wife. Shocked?" This was was nineteen fifty. nineteen fifty.

Didn't even blink an eye. "I'm a man of the world, Miss Disantini. May I call you Maria?"

"No one ever called me that except for my dried up maiden aunt. Call me, Mia."

An amazingly liquid smiled flowed over his lips. "Va bene, cara mia." cara mia."

I blinked, surprised he used the endearment my father did and even more that he p.r.o.nounced it so beautifully. "You speak Italian?"

"I speak many languages."

The waiter approached us to take our order.

"Hiya Mikey. What's good tonight?"

He was one of those waiters who's extremely competent but always looks like his dog just died. Never wrote anything down but never made a mistake either. "Calamari's good; veal's better."

I took the safer option. One could never tell how a gentleman would react to a girl eating squid. "The veal, please."

"And the gentleman?"

The smooth smile never left my companion's face and frosty eyes never left mine. "Nothing thank you, I dined earlier. Please bring the young lady whatever she wants."

"You'll be sorry. Bring the lot Mikey! Mussels to start and a basket of bread, I'm starved. And the best red you've got. He's paying!" I pointed to my amused date.

Mikey hurried away. My companion still had his eyes glued to me awaiting my next move, mouth twitching with unexpressed laughter. In spite of the hauteur, he had a sense of humor. "You're very straightforward."

"You're rich, aren't you?"

Didn't miss a beat, leaning in to me, grinning in a wolfish way. "Fabulously."

I continued on my merry way. "Music to my ears, listen you don't have a wife do you?"

He laughed at my gaucherie. "No."

Angels were singing somewhere. "You're getting better by the minute. I can't believe you're you're single!" single!"

"I was married once. She died long ago."

Open mouth insert foot, Mia. "Sorry, didn't mean to be so rude. I always say just what I think. It's a bad habit."

"Your candor is refres.h.i.+ng," he said with a touch of world-weariness.

Ooh! What made him tick? Yet undiscovered levels to his character. Tres Tres sophisticated. Our eyes met. Was my mouth watering? sophisticated. Our eyes met. Was my mouth watering?

The piano player started to play soft dinner music. Usually as the night wore on he'd play show tunes or Italian songs and guests would sing along.

"What's your first name?"

"Ethan- Ethan Allen Sinclair."

I actually sighed, "Ethan Allen Sinclair- sounds like a character from a book- can't say I've ever met an Ethan before."

"I've never met a Mia before. It's a delicious experience."

Oh, he was good, but it didn't matter. I was falling anyway. I blushed.

"Where in the universe did you drop from?" If he'd said Alpha Centauri it wouldn't have surprised me.

"Virginia."

"Old money?"

A mysterious smile slid over his luscious mouth. "Very old."

"You have that look. Why Ethan Allen, I mean, wasn't he a Yankee Yankee?"

He chuckled. "My father asked my mother that same question the day I was born. She thought an unusual name lent distinction."

"Why me?"

A puzzled look pa.s.sed briefly over his face. "Whatever do you mean?"

I gestured to a colleague of mine, a tall, blonde gazelle of a girl. "Why not my friend Janie over there? She's the real beauty."

He paused for a moment, smiling. "You exceed her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December exceed her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December."

"Much Ado about Nothing. You know your Shakespeare." You know your Shakespeare."

"I read extensively. I'm particularly fond of Shakespeare."

"Not just a pretty face?"