5. Audra #2
My mask is made from the same midnight blue as the dress, edged with delicate silver filigree that curls like frost across the surface.
Tiny crystals catch the light, scattering little sparks across the room.
It's beautiful. Almost regal. I lift it slowly and tie it behind my head.
The moment it settles into place, something shifts.
Not physically. Internally. Like slipping into a different version of myself.
The woman in the mirror looks mysterious. Confident. Untouchable.
For a second, I don't feel like Audra Hale from the small house down the street. I feel like someone else. Someone bold. Someone dangerous. Someone—and there is that word again—more.
The mask, the dress, it all feels like it's leading me toward something new.
Or maybe not new. Maybe something I've been circling ever since the arrest. Ever since the moment that everything cracked, the moment I realized how small my life had become.
How carefully contained. How much of myself I had packed away just to keep it that way.
And now… for the first time in a long time, I don't want to stay inside the lines. "Well," Maggie claps her hands, stepping back and admiring me. "Now you really look like you belong at a ball."
Mom nods approvingly from the couch. "Go. Have fun. We'll be perfectly fine here."
"We will," Maggie adds. "Promise."
My phone dings with an incoming message.
Pete:
I'm sorry. I ordered you an Uber. Have fun. Love you.
Maggie is not even pretending that she's not looking over my shoulder.
"Your brother," I fill her in as if she didn't already know that.
"You married him," she quips back.
She's got a point.
“You know how some people say daughters marry their fathers?” I ask her.
She nods. “Yeah, I’ve heard this.”
“Well in my case, I think I married my mother.”
Maggie almost chokes on the wine she was taking a sip of. She laughs so hard, she snorts and tears stream out of her eyes. It’s contagiously enough for me to join in, but in all honesty, I’m not sure if I was truly joking.
Graciously, I respond.
Me:
Thank you. I'll miss you.
A few minutes later, Maggie and I step out into the cool evening air, and soon the Uber arrives. Maggie hugs me enthusiastically. "I know this isn't what you wanted. But you'll have fun. You'll see."
Playfully, I kiss her cheek before I hop into the tiny electric car. Seems like my luck has finally run out as I fight the tulle and layers upon layers of my skirt for any room in the backseat.
"Wow, I've never driven someone like you before," the driver announces.
I giggle, and the first embers of excitement ignite in my stomach.
"To the Dominion, please," I tell him, like he didn't already know that.
As the headlights sweep down the street, another wave of resentment overcomes me. Pete should be here. With me. A dull anger sparks in my stomach. I try to suppress it, but this time it won't stay down. It fights its way through until it's properly acknowledged.
It's not just tonight, a sigh escapes me.
"What was that?" the driver asks.
"Nothing, I'm just brooding, don't mind me," I try to joke it off.
"I hope you're meeting someone at the Dominion," he keeps up the small talk.
Despite myself, I answer, "My husband couldn't make it. Work."
"That sucks, bro," he commiserates. "I'd never let someone like you out of my sight. If you don't mind me saying that."
I don't. Truthfully, his words are like a balm to my wounded ego, which has taken a lot of beatings lately.
"Thank you," I reply with a smile, and our eyes meet through the review mirror. He's kinda cute, in a Tom Hanks in Forest Gump kinda way. A little awkward, but he seems honest enough.
"Well, maybe you'll run into someone who reminds him not to take you for granted."
I huff out a quiet laugh, but the words linger longer than they should. "Maybe."
A strange thrill runs through me. Tonight feels like the beginning of something. I just don't know what yet.
By the time we pull up to the casino, my heart is racing again with anticipation. The Dominion rises out of the Las Vegas strip like something out of a dream. Or maybe a movie.
I've been to casinos before, of course. Everyone in Vegas has. Pete and I have wandered through plenty of them over the years, cheap buffets, blinking slot machines, crowds of tourists in Hawaiian shirts spilling margaritas on the carpet. But this… is different.
The Dominion doesn't look like a casino. It looks like a palace. A modern royal palace made of glass, steel, and dark marble, reflecting the city lights like a mirror. Tall, illuminated columns rise toward the sky, and a massive set of black-and-gold doors mark the entrance.
The driver pulls up close to the valet area and exclaims, "Wow."
Mirroring my sentiments exactly. Limousines are lining up at the front just on the other side of where my driver stopped.
Valets in matching black uniforms appear instantly whenever a new limo pulls up, opening car doors, and both the driver and I watch in awe as men and women peel out of the vehicles, wearing dresses like mine and suits like the one that was sent for Pete.
I feel a little lost when I try to tip the driver with a five I find in my wallet, left over from my allowance, and he assures me that Pete has already paid him.
It's no small feat to climb out of the tiny car and not stumble over the hem of my generous skirt, but I manage.
Just like I manage to pull my shoulder blades back and tip my head back, looking like I belong.
"Good evening, ma'am. Welcome to The Dominion.
" A valet greets me, without showing the slightest confusion over my climbing out of a tiny electric car instead of one of the large limos.
He opens the door to the casino for me, and the moment I step into the large, air-conditioned space, I feel like I've stepped into someone else's life.
Someone richer. Someone important. Someone who belongs here.
Inside, it smells faintly of expensive perfume and the exotic flowers tastefully arranged around side tables.
Everything gleams. Crystal chandeliers hang high above the floor, casting soft golden light over the crowd.
The sound of a string quartet drifts from somewhere deeper in the building.
People move through the lobby looking as if they belong in magazines.
The men wear tuxedos that probably cost more than our annual house payment.
The women's gowns shimmer and flow like liquid silk.
No Hawaiian shirts. No gaudy Vegas dresses.
No drunken bachelor parties. These people have…
class. Quiet wealth. The kind that doesn't need to shout.
I glance around with my mouth slightly open.
"Pete," I whisper, unconsciously wanting to share this moment with him before I realize he isn't there.
Ahead of me, two attendants in elegant uniforms gesture toward a sweeping marble staircase. "Masquerade guests, this way please."
I pass through a long hallway; the ballroom waits below. At the top, I pause for a moment. From up here, I can see more of the ballroom below. Silk gowns drift through the crowd, masks glint under the lights, and people laugh softly as they move toward the doors.
For a moment, I just watch it all. My hand holds on tight to the small clutch that came with the dress, and I ignore the few glances thrown at me as people realize I'm alone.
Nobody here is alone. I promise myself that I will not let that get to me and spoil this evening.
Instead, I take in all the glam and splendor surrounding me.
Women are decked out with jewels that sparkle in all colors of the rainbow, from their necks, their ears, their wrists, and their fingers.
One even holds a stud in her belly button, which is exposed, probably just to show it off.
After another short moment, I begin climbing down a set of wide marble steps that gleam beneath the chandeliers.
I wonder what it would be like being here with Pete.
He might not have been the man of my dreams when I was younger.
Back then, I imagined someone different, someone wild, someone dangerous, someone who made my heart race in all the reckless ways.
But Pete… Pete was the man I needed. Steady. Kind. Safe. The one who stayed when life got complicated. The one who helped me become a better person. A stable person. Yet, standing here, I start to contemplate if that is really all I want from life?
Seeing these people, the splendor, the luxury, I remember dreaming of visiting different places, I remember thinking how cool it would be to go skiing in the morning and bury my feet in the sand by a blue ocean in the evening.
These people here look like they are living that dream.
When I mentioned a vacation to Pete, just a weekend at Lake Tahoe, he told me exactly how much money we had in our bank accounts.
When I argued that I could make more money if I quit my job at the vet clinic and became the card dealer I'd originally wanted to be, he shook his head.
"One day, babe," he promised. "We will go to Lake Tahoe. "
I swallow hard. Because Lake Tahoe, as promising as it sounds, isn't really all I want.
I want to go, to do, to experience. It doesn't have to be like this ball; the sports bar down the street would be just fine, but Pete can never miss his five o'clock news.
Something stirs in my stomach. The desire for more is turning into a constant ache.
One I'm having a hard time ignoring any longer.
Several men in dark suits wait by a side of the large double doors. One greets me evenly as I close in. "Good evening," he says smoothly, inclining his head. "Your table is ready."