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The Cocktail Tables and a Little Game

"Hello Miss Sophia, what is it that you have there?"

By Denise ElnajjarPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
2

I got out of the car, ready to make my way in to the Bradsford Oxen Club. It was my first time here, but for someone like me, it wasn't going to be my last. You may not know my real name, but to the people at the Bradsford Oxen Club tonight, my name is Miss Sophia Valencia Woodson.

I checked with meticulousness that I had everything right-- my dress properly fitted, gloves and jewelry. I showed up mysteriously to this community just a few months ago, and now I already knew many of the people I'd wanted to meet, and was already ruffling some of the competition's feathers. All I had to do now was enter, again.

The entrance of the hall was lavish, as I anticipated. Glass windows by the courtyard, rose bushes in the gardens outside.

"Miss Sophia," the butler graciously greeted me. "I was requested to give you this when you arrive."

He handed me an envelope, sealed with wax. I opened it-- a small black notebook inside.

"Who is this from?"

"I do not know," he said. "I was instructed to hand it to you and only you. An anonymous source, Miss."

I walked forward to the cocktail hall and its fineries, decorated with candelabras, golden curtains. To you this may be nothing, but I was finally breaking free. I grew up in East Ratford Hills, about a four hour ride from here. I had a childhood with no family, abandoned and scrubbing floors as a six year old at the local Rita Mossfield House. Years later I was moved to what you'd call scullery work at a prison. To the people here tonight, I may have been a natural, or a mild social climber at worst. But they didn't know that I paid half the earnings I've recently amassed just for my dress tonight. And they definitely didn't know I was a runaway from East Ratford Hills.

What is this book? I tried to be smooth, greeting the other guests while also trying to peer into what is now a notebook in my possession. Dodging questions from the likes of Gentleman Mosley-- "Hello Miss Sophia, what is it that you have there?"

I headed to one of the cocktail tables on the side, all of them furnished with cloth. Opening the notebook, I read the first page.

"You will follow the directions I've laid out in this book. If you don't, I will expose you."

I felt my face, flushed with unwelcome adrenaline.

"I've been watching you, I know exactly who you are," the notes on the first page continued. "You must reach the end of this book in order to remain in my good graces. We're going to play a little game. Turn the pages, one by one. If you look ahead of time, you will be finished."

I wanted to run to the ladies' room and process the nervous tension away from everyone. I thought I wasn't a fraud, but maybe I was. People trying to better their situations can still be frauds. I had to stay cool-- people were greeting me again.

As soon as they left, I turned the page.

"You will walk over to the north end of the room, and specifically to the cocktail table by the 2nd arched window and the wisteria."

Okay, I headed over as soon as the people there left. What would I have done if they lingered there for an hour with their drinks? I turned the page.

"There is a cup hidden on the floor under the tablecloth. Remove it."

What? Looking around me to hope the minimal amount of guests noticed, I bent down and felt for anything on the floor under the table. The book was right. There was a cup.

I held up the cup and... saw that someone stuffed money inside. Who would leave this here? I unfurled what I could away from anyone's watchful eye, but was stopped abruptly.

"Miss Sophia!" It was Madam Lane Amaranta Reuche. Oh no. I was in no mood to talk! Minutes later, after muffling away my distracted demeanor with her, I went back to what I was looking at before-- a thousand rolled up dollars.

Surely, I wanted to keep this-- could I? I read the next page. The author of the notebook didn't specify how it was left here. I hid the money with me, and if I should return it to the hall later on tonight, I wouldn't object.

"You will walk next to a cocktail table, five down from the painting in the corner. Six gentlemen will be there with their drinks. Wait a few minutes until they leave before you approach."

I looked at the table the author was referring to. What was this about, and what was I about to be framed for? The person was right-- at the exact moment I looked at the table, six gentlemen were indeed standing there. With their drinks.

They also indeed left a few minutes later. How did the author know this was going to happen? So strange. I made my way over.

"Feel under the table, not on the floor this time. Underneath the table on its underside there will be something taped. Remove it and keep it with you for now."

Okay. Looking around me, I tried to not grab anyone's attention while I slipped in my arm to feel if there's anything taped underneath the table. There was. It took effort to remove it. I really wished I could've been doing this privately if I were to be subject to some sort of sick game!

Once I was able to successfully release what was taped there, I looked at the item. A thin, lightweight wooden box several inches long with one latch to open it. Inside-- peering at it away from anyone's watchful eye-- was ten thousand dollars.

Ten. Thousand. Dollars.

My adrenaline went awry. Who sent me this book? What sort of crime were they to have me do? Why was I being threatened to be exposed?

In flush, I almost walked into a gentleman serving hors d'oeuvres. Right behind him was someone removing emptied cups and drinks left at tables.

I hid my latest revelation with the other one and turned the page.

"You will now walk over to a cocktail table in the center of the room. On it, you will find an empty cup. Go."

I hurried my way over. The table in the center of the room had guests who had just left. One empty cup. Strange, but perhaps it was a good thing I arrived before it was removed.

"Turn the cup over. There is something underneath. Take the item and walk over to the east end of the room. Over by the window near the rose bush, while you're alone, open the small envelope."

The author of this notebook sure knew how to play a game. I followed every word and took the envelope by the window. Five thousand dollars was stashed inside of there, unbelievably under a cup that could have been whisked away at any moment.

"Stuff it away. While you are standing still there, take a look at the table next to you. There's something on top of the wooden table but under the cloth."

The author was surely to make a mockery out of me! How was I supposed to feel everything under this long tablecloth, and the table itself, without attracting attention? I was being dodgy as it is. This was supposed to be a big night I've waited several weeks for! And already at almost the end of cocktail hour, I was dredged through distraction, barely able to pull a good conversation or receive news, hear of invites to breeze my way in, and cement any good impression or alliances-- instead, possible ruining former ones.

I breathed for a few moments, and lifted up the tablecloth in as clandestine a manner as I could. I did what I had to do. Feeling the top of the wooden table underneath its cloth, I found something there. Of course.

Making sure I didn't leave anything behind, it was an envelope with nothing else around it, no other paper layers I could miss.

"Don't open it yet. Remember, you are still at my mercy. Walk over to the opposite end of the room and open it near the painting of the roses."

I opened the envelope. Four thousand dollars.

Still flushed, I didn't know what to think.

"Keep that with you-- only for now. Walk over to the south end of the room. My business with you is almost finished. Go to the table near the candles. There will be someone approaching that very same table at the same time. Do not hesitate, you must still go."

Oh my goodness. Well, here it goes.

I made my way over to the table, but dodged a few people I recognized first. I wanted to greet them, but with this improbable mission underway, I detoured around and pretend I didn't notice anyone, to avoid any occurrences.

Just as I was reaching the table, Gentleman Lille-Rouven Burke was also walking over. He pretended he didn't see me, then glancing again and hiding something in his coat pocket. "Hello, Miss Sophia," he exclaimed, pretending he wasn't clearly distracted. "Fancy seeing you here."

I'd met Gentleman Lille-Rouven Burke some few weeks back. We actually didn't fancy each other's company at all. I had spilled a drink on him once, which was utterly embarrassing. He was once in a brawl and they both knocked into me. Seemingly a lot of things for a few weeks' acquaintance and a good time was not had. He was one of the last men I'd be interested in exchanging pleasantries with here.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"I may ask the same," I smiled nervously. I wanted to open the notebook again, as I didn't realize I'd need to know the next step, while in another person's presence.

I tried to think of a way to step aside so I can read what's next. "If you'll excuse me--"

"You mustn't," he said. "You are staying here. I'm not sure why but... you have to."

"What?"

"Look, trust my word on this. I can't explain."

I stood there, trying to figure out what to do. Time was running out, and pretty soon, this hour would be over.

He spoke again. "Look, let me explain. I know I said I wouldn't, but I will." He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a black notebook that looked just like mine.

"I was told that we should stay here for now, together. I apologize."

I pulled out my black notebook, wondering what to do, but releasing its existence since I just saw his. "I have one too. Have you been sent on a chase?"

"What does it say?" He asked.

I opened it up to the next page, but not within reach of his eyes. I wanted to know what it says, first, before I say anything.

"You will be able to keep everything you just found, if you promise me one thing," wrote the author of the black notebook in my hands. "Now that you've made it this far, you must continue if you want to keep your prize. The money is yours, if you and the Gentleman across from you go out together one time and give each other a chance."

What? I turned the page. Nothing was written. What was I supposed to say to him?

I looked to see the page after that. There was something there.

"I know I said I know all about you and I do. Despite what you think, I respect you. Trust my guidance, I brought you this far. Tell him you will be at the race next week. You will thank me later."

Well... here it goes.

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About the Creator

Denise Elnajjar

Fashion + Lifestyle Illustrator, Mixed Media Artist. Creator of The Painted Atlas- tour the world through art!

Love art, reading, music, travel. Here on Vocal I enjoy writing fiction and non-fiction.

IG: @deniseelnajjar

thepaintedatlas.com

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