Illuminate (4 page)

“Hello, I’m Aurelia Brown, owner of the Lexington Hotel. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She came up to each of us to shake our hands. I had never seen anyone this stunning up close. Her sapphire eyes were clear and welcoming, sparkling even. Her skin was bone china, smooth and firm, without a single line etched upon it.

“Nice to meet you,” I said finally. Her fingers felt like twigs, so slim, but then they tightened around mine, nearly crushing them.

“And this . . .” She gestured behind her. I hadn’t even noticed that a man had appeared, seated, legs crossed, leaning back just enough on the mammoth ottoman to show he didn’t have to try hard to look this way. He wore a slim gray suit and a satin tie of pink and purple checks, all so precisely tailored it took me a moment to realize he looked fresh out of high school. His features were impeccably carved—an almost-too-delicate nose, chiseled cheekbones, full lips. He had slicked back his hair in a way that made him look like he had stepped out of an old movie. It had never, until this point, occurred to me to describe a guy as being beautiful, but he was. “This is my second in command, Lucian Grove.” He stood now, buttoning his suit jacket and adjusting his cuffs. When he stepped forward to greet each of us as Aurelia had, the thrill of those impending few seconds of attention wracked my body.

“A pleasure,” he said to Lance, shaking his hand. They were nearly the same height. Everyone here was impossibly tall. I felt so small, so insignificant.

Dante was unflappable, offering his effortless “So nice to meet you, great to be here.” But my fingers trembled even before Lucian took my hand. When he did, a sharp jolt charged through me, a hot tremor hitting every nerve in my body. I hoped his fiery grip wasn’t reading my pulse. His eyes, gray woven with threads of crystal blue, burned into mine, and then he arched one eyebrow at me—playful, knowing—and smirked. My heart stopped. What did that mean? He hadn’t seen me watching him and Aurelia earlier, had he? I mean, it had only been a flash, a few seconds. And yet, from his look, I felt like he had found me out.

Dante read some of this from the corner of his eye. “I hope there are more like him around here,” he whispered into my ear, after Lucian had turned his back to us to resume his place at Aurelia’s side. “I want one.” I took a deep breath and felt my feet return to solid ground and my pulse begin to slow. Aurelia was speaking, so, with some effort, I refocused my attention on her.

“You’ll be working closely with a group we’ve already assembled as part of our social outreach cadre: we call them the Outfit.” At that, as though choreographed, a group of people flowed and floated in from rooms on our right and left. Though there were many of them, collectively they sounded as hushed as fluttering butterfly wings. Ten men and ten women all the caliber of Aurelia and Lucian, perfectly attired and all wearing black suits and dresses. All, I guessed, to be in their late teens or their early twenties at the most, yet they seemed worlds older than me. It was something about the way they carried themselves: regal, with proud, straight backs, and their heads tilted just a touch upward. They swarmed around the three of us, creating a cocoon with their bodies. They didn’t say a word and didn’t look at us, but kept their eyes glued to Aurelia, their faces still, a serene air surrounding them. So we did too, after exchanging a few confused glances with one another.

“Play your cards right, and you three just might be the youngest inductees into this exclusive society,” Aurelia said. “Everyone in Chicago wants in. People would give their souls to be part of it. You’re very lucky, you know. Come, we’ve much to discuss.”

3. Your New Surroundings

“So, welcome,” Aurelia announced as we began the official tour, the low pitch of her voice melodic and calming. The Outfit, still surrounding Dante, Lance, and me, swept us along as we followed our leader past the front desk and the grand staircase and straight down the center of the lobby. In our hands now were gift bags brimming with swag: pens, mugs, notepads, postcards, T-shirts, and candies all bearing the hotel’s gold-on-black LH logo. “Today we’ll walk you through what you’ll be doing, show you your accommodations, and get you situated and feeling at home.” She paused, turning to look at each of our faces. Inside the open doorway to our right, I caught a glimpse of walls lined with floord-to-ceiling bookcases and one of those ladders attached to a gold-plated track running along the top near the high ceiling. Stacks of books lined the floor near a fireplace and an emerald-hued velvet sofa.

“We’re almost in place for our grand opening, but there are still projects to be conquered and we will be depending on you and on the Outfit.” Aurelia gestured to them with a delicate hand. “You will have a privileged look at how this establishment will be run. What will be expected of you? Anything and everything. That’s why you were recruited—we know you’re among the best and brightest. We are proud to have you and hope you will be just as proud to be aiding us.” The register of her voice had hypnotic powers, an ebb and flow that had the effect of a lullaby. Beside her, Lucian watched us, hands in his pockets. His eyes met mine for a second and seared me. I pushed up the sleeves of my shirt and hoped I didn’t look like I was sweating. “Keep in mind we wouldn’t be providing room and board for you if we didn’t expect to be able to call on you occasionally at odd hours, but it will be worth your while. You’ll find that a job well done here will translate into enrichment and success elsewhere. We can open doors.”

At that last promise, I straightened my back, standing as tall as possible. Now she really had my attention. She seemed to know it too. She held my gaze. I had the feeling she could tell by looking at a person whether or not they would disappoint her.

She spun back around, heels clicking, off again. We scurried to keep up. “A few things you may or may not know, but that you will need to know. We are a reincarnation of the original Lexington Hotel, and are as respectful and mindful of that history as possible. The legendary Chicago gangster Al Capone once lived here, and we allude to this infamy often, while also trying to brand ourselves as an arbiter of cutting-edge taste and a vanguard in the art, culinary, and nightlife worlds. We intend to be a celebration of both the dangerous and the beautiful, because these are the things that everyone most craves. We are going to be a destination for Chicago natives and visitors alike. We open to the public in mere weeks, on February 14, in honor of the St. Valentine’s Day massacre. I’m sure you know what that was, correct?”

I knew roughly that it had to do with Capone’s gang killing a bunch of members of a rival gang, but I was too scared to give any detailed answer. I could not bear to be wrong in front of this group. My stomach knotted up. I glanced at my compatriots. We all wore the same in-over-our-head expression. Silence. Aurelia stopped short and turned to us again, shaking her head. “Oh dear,” she chided. “You’re going to need to brush up on your Chicago history, my lambs. You’re representing us now.” Her voice was icy.

“I thought it was rhetorical, that question,” Dante piped up. I almost gasped but caught myself. I shot him a look. Aurelia studied him, a faint smile on her lips.

“You’ll find that very little of what I ask is rhetorical. I don’t like to waste time. I either give orders or I ask questions with the intention of receiving answers.” Somehow, these words didn’t sound so hostile as they trickled out sweetly and slowly, only lightly laced with bite. Through all of this, the Outfit remained quiet and still, encircling us like a chain of paper dolls. Aurelia set off again.

“You will each be assigned a mentor, from whom you will receive your assignments. Whenever possible, you will be given projects commensurate with your interests and talents. Lance”— his whole body jolted at the sound of his name—“you’ll be shadowing Lucian, handling day-to-day operations, a good deal of management responsibilities, and various projects with our amen- ities: the nightclub, the gallery, the library.”

“Thank you,” Lance said shyly to the back of her head. Lucian looked over his shoulder and gave him a nod in acknowledgment.

“Dante, your mentor is our head chef, Etan. He has some innovative plans for the menu in our restaurant and lounge. He is currently away on business, but he’ll be here in another day or so. In the meantime, he asks that you familiarize yourself with the kitchens—you can start with the one adjacent to the Parlor, which is our more casual restaurant.”

“Of course. Looking forward to it,” he answered, his voice bright.

“And, lastly, Haven, you will be with me.” We had reached the far end of the ground floor and stopped before a glass-enclosed elevator.

“Great, thank you so much.” I waited to hear more. I wanted to know exactly what Aurelia expected from me, so I would then know how to surpass it and impress her. But that was it.

“Now let’s have a look at our nightclub, the Vault.” She pressed the elevator call button. “It opened last month to great fanfare and we’re doing a tremendous business.” That seemed to be true, according to what I’d read about the club. Everyone had filtered through there: celebrities in town shooting movies; every remotely important athlete the city had; musicians on tour. “We realize that you three aren’t of age . . .” She paused, perhaps finding a way to let us down gently that this wasn’t a place for high school kids. “However—”

At that, we all looked at her with renewed attention. The elevator opened and she stepped in, Lucian behind her. We followed, tentative, Dante first.

“—you will be permitted into the club as long as you’re responsible.”

What?
I wasn’t sure I heard right. Beside me, I felt light beams shooting out of Dante’s eyes, ears, fingertips. The Outfit turned and walked down a side hallway, single file, like one long, chic snake, and finally disappeared.

“Members of the Outfit have specific duties there, and you may, in fact, be asked to work there at times as well.”

“All right!” Dante, I knew, couldn’t help it. The outburst just escaped his lips, no hope of being held back.

Aurelia’s eyes zipped in his direction. Lucian leaned in toward Dante, almost conspiratorially, and said, “It’s a pretty fantastic place. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Onward,” she said. The elevator doors closed and we plummeted to the hotel’s depths.

Once downstairs though, we were permitted to see only the sealed door of the nightclub—a black-painted slab of steel like the kind you’d find on a bank vault—leaving us to imagine what lay beyond it.

The rest of the tour felt endless, a blur of elegantly appointed rooms and an onslaught of facts and figures. The Outfit mysteriously met up with us again later when we reached the upper floors, fencing us in, which continued to make me nervous. I wished I could drum up some intelligent questions to ask, something to show how serious I was—something also that would force Lucian to look at me. His gaze remained firmly set on Aurelia, his eyes traveling over her face like ocean waves lapping at rock, painting her with devoted attention as she spoke. And who could blame him? She had such presence. You could feel the control in her voice, in her sharp movements and the forthright, steady pace of her walk. She was so unlike the women I knew, the no-nonsense, practical, get-the-job-done women at the hospital, like Joan. There was a polish to Aurelia. Could that be learned? Or was it just something you either had or you didn’t, the way that seemingly overnight some of the girls at school had become these creatures who could lure and lasso even the most elusive boys?

As we wandered, so did my mind, more than I would have liked. But I was tired. We all were. I caught Lance stifling a yawn at one point. The place was mammoth and we covered a lot of ground.

I scoped out so many intriguing spots I hoped to inspect more closely. On the main floor, in addition to the library, there would be a restaurant called Capone and a lounge called the Parlor—these were located to the right and left of the main entrance. Back near the elevator to the Vault, tucked behind the thick folds of a gold and burgundy velvet curtain, was a glass door leading into what would be the hotel’s own art gallery, which would be a museum of macabre artifacts from Chicago’s sordid past with plenty of original works of art and photography by local artists mixed in. For now it was no more than an empty expanse of blank white walls and glass cases, just waiting for beautiful and special things to display. Another elevator led down to a posh and tranquil spa.

On the second floor at the top of the grand staircase, behind ivory-paneled doors, was the ballroom, complete with a painted ceiling that was the hotel’s answer to the Sistine Chapel. However, instead of the heavenly creatures depicted there, this length of ceiling was a stormy sky festooned with heavy and foreboding clouds, lightning bolts so vivid you could almost hear the crackling thunder that would accompany them, ravens and crows flying in formation, and other dark-winged, part-human characters slinging arrows, gorgeous but deadly.

By the time Aurelia led us all back down these stairs, my feet were aching—unaccustomed as they were to doing this much walking in anything other than sneakers.

At last, she dismissed us. “I’d like you to take the rest of the day to acquaint yourselves with the rich charms of your new surroundings, find your rooms, and so forth. Should we need you for anything, we’ll find you.” We thanked her in unison, as the Outfit slithered away without a sound. Lucian slipped back into that infamous darkened hallway behind the front desk and Aurelia pranced toward the library. Lance, Dante, and I were all fishing in our gift bags for the keycards to our rooms, when the sharp footsteps stopped and I heard that low rasp again.

“Haven, a moment,” Aurelia called from the middle of the sprawling lobby, gesturing for me.

“Yes, Ms. Brown,” I answered in my brightest, most respectful tone. I waved Dante and Lance on without me, as my nerves began their steady, ominous climb to the top of a roller coaster.

“Aurelia, please,” she corrected as she started walking again, not waiting for me. I was jogging now, racing to get to her faster.