The Last Dance

John Starkey had to make ends meet and tonight he was an escort. Mr. Carl Thomas seemed nice enough during the interview, though John thought he’d bombed it. He was really surprised when he got the call to meet Carl’s wife at the luxurious Henry building downtown. He straightened his bow tie and checked his cufflinks for what seemed like the hundredth time. John was willing himself to not sweat in the 3-piece suit, but it wasn’t working very well. His anti-perspirant would be the real hero tonight.

John tapped his foot as they pulled up to the gala. Supposedly, Mr. Thomas didn’t have time to go, but he didn’t want his wife, Vivian, to go alone. That’s where John came in. He got out of his Uber. The night air was still warm, and cars were parked all the way up the block. Colorful lights glowed on the front of the buildings. John walked inside the historic Henry building. String music played as he went through the lobby. Vivian sat in a chair studying one of the paintings on the wall. Her brown hair was short and the black dress she wore looked expensive. She had the kind of timeless beauty that reminded him of Audrey Hepburn.

“Ms. Thomas?” he asked, voice quivering from nerves.

Her brown eyes met his, “Yes?” She was confident but not arrogant.

“I’m John Starkey, your escort for the night.” He smiled his most professional smile.

“Oh, wow. Carl didn’t tell me how handsome you’d be.” She offered her hand.

John felt his cheeks heat up. She was maybe in her 40’s which put her about 20 years older than him, but the compliment was nice. He took her hand and helped her stand. He could smell the faint, warm scent of vanilla and cinnamon when she got closer to him. The black dress she wore was form fitting and sleeveless. It went down to her ankles. She wore heels that made her the same height as John, who was 5’10”.

“Ready?” she smiled, and he wondered how a woman like this wound up with Carl Thomas.

With just a few words she’d melted his anxiety away, “Absolutely.” They locked arms and John ran a hand through his styled black hair to make sure it was laying right.

They entered the room and as they did heads turned to see who was coming in. John could see a few smiles as they descended the staircase.

“A little slower, please. I’m not good with heels.” Vivian chuckled.

“Oh, sure.” John slowed. People were moving toward them. No one John knew, but they all looked “well to do”.

“Oh, Vivian!” A portly, mustachioed man in a gray suit reached out a hand, “How have you been?”

“Rupert, I’m doing fine. Thank you for asking.”

“The donation you sent was very much appreciated. We’ll be able to buy all the kids school supplies this year and pay for several field trips.”

Vivian beamed and clasped her hands together, “Oh, that’s wonderful.”

Another person approached Vivian as John’s phone went off. He checked it.

“Oh, um, Ms. Thomas I need to take this.” He held up the phone.

“That’s fine dear, I’ll be here.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled.

As he walked away John heard someone mention the humane society and another donation. Vivian seemed to be quite popular.

He made his way to the men’s room and locked himself in a stall. It was in poor taste for an escort to leave their client, but he couldn’t miss this message. John unlocked his phone and checked the notification that had been sent from an unknown number. It contained a link. Normally he wouldn’t click on these kinds of things, but he was expecting something like this. He clicked the hyperlink, and it took him to another site, where he put in his password. That site went to another security check, and he held his phone’s camera up to get a good scan of his face.

Finally, he was in. The website was adapted for a pleasant mobile experience. His name appeared in the top right, and he had one notification in his mailbox. John controlled his excitement as he pressed the message with a shaking finger.

Being a hitman was new to John, but it was something he’d dreamed of being ever since he was a boy playing Assassin’s Creed. It had been a tough market to crack, believe it or not. Hitmen didn’t want to talk about how they got jobs.

The information for the hit popped up. His eyes scanned it once and then read it more slowly. John’s stomach sank. Carl Thomas had put out a hit on his wife, Vivian Thomas, and it was…extremely cheap. John didn’t know whether to be insulted by the amount or disgusted by the act.

He’d been with Vivian for maybe 7 minutes and in that time, she’d made him feel important and she’d been thanked twice for sizable donations to charitable organizations. This couldn’t be right, but this was his chance, his first job. There were penalties for not taking jobs when they were offered. He sighed and accepted it.

John washed his hands wishing he could wash his hands of this whole business tonight. It had never occurred to him that he might have to kill someone that didn’t deserve it, but maybe she did. Maybe Vivian Thomas was some sort of underworld crime lord with a squeaky-clean public persona. He’d made up his mind. John was going to spend the rest of the night trying find out who the real Vivian Thomas was.

He walked out of the bathroom with a new mission and a new attitude.

“John.” Vivian called. She waved at him from a group of people. She didn’t have the face of a crime lord. Her round eyes held depth, and she had the beginnings of crow’s feet.

“Sorry about that, Vivian. Just a little emergency.” He needed to figure out what game she was playing.

“Oh,” the shock seemed genuine, “I do hope everyone is alright. I was just speaking with Mrs. Halcyon about how the new orphanage is coming along.”

Dammit. “The orphanage?”

“Yes, I sponsored the construction.”

Maybe she hid a body in the foundation. She smiled and he knew that was a stretch.

“Did you give blankets to the homeless last winter too?” John chuckled and looked at Mrs. Halcyon. The older lady had her hair done up and was wearing a dark purple jacket over her matching dress.

The ladies laughed.

“No.” Vivian said.

Finally. John had found something.

“I had warming stations set up all around the city and then I bought a few of the rundown warehouses and made temporary housing out of them. I also provided food and clothing for everyone who came by, while also organizing delivery of those goods to other parts of the city. No one should have to worry about that sort of thing in 2025.” She took a sip of her drink.

“Oh, that’s right. It was such a dreadful winter last year. Excuse me.” Mrs. Halcyon walked away leaving John in an awkward silence.

He was losing. There had to be something. Vivian took his arm and walked John around the gala. Servers dressed in tuxedos went around with serving trays containing various foods and wine. John thought about grabbing a glass for himself.

He had to find something. He reached for the obvious reason, “There must be some tax benefits from all of the charity work you do.” John grabbed a glass of wine and downed it in one gulp. He’d put it back on the server’s tray before Vivian could see him.

“Not really, I don’t let Carl claim any of it.”

“So, you don’t use any of the loopholes to pay less in taxes?” He asked.

“Did you know that in Rome it was considered an honor to be able to pay taxes?”

John almost stopped where he was but forced himself to keep walking.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Vivian sighed and her steps slowed.

“You do?” How did she know about the hit? John’s heart rate spiked.

“She’s rich, she’s just like them.” There was a biting tone to her voice, “She avoids taxes and does charity for her own good, but I assure you Mr. Starkey,” Vivian’s eyes met his, “I’m not like them.”

The light from the chandeliers showed flecks of red mixed with the brown in her eyes. It made the glare she gave him look even fiercer.

She sighed and put her glass on a nearby table, “Dance with me.”

“What?” John was taken back by the sudden change.

“Dance with me. This conversation has put me in the wrong mood for the event. I need you to cheer me up. Don’t tell me Carl hired an escort that can’t dance.” She teased.

I guess I do owe her that. John smiled, “No, ma’am, but it will be extra.”

She grinned as if she knew that wasn’t a joke and led him to the dance floor just as the band was starting another song.

John’s mother had insisted on him taking dance lessons for eight years, three days a week, and now those lessons were paying off. He was rusty, but Vivian was a pro, and they eventually found their rhythm. She felt strong as they moved around the floor.

Throughout the dance couples came by to ask who she was with and how Carl was doing and to thank Vivian for some kind of donation or another. John was losing his nerve. Unless he found a reason and quickly, he wasn’t going to be able to do the job. It was eating at him. Why did Mr. Thomas want to kill his wife? She was bright, kind, generous, and charming.

As they danced his mind went back to the day of his fateful encounter with a man he’d saved from a mugging. It had been the first time he’d ever heard of the International Federation of Hitmen and Assassins.

The music stopped and John was back in his terrible situation.

They sat down at a table.

“That was so fun. I never get to dance at these things.” She smiled and it was devastating.

John was going to crack, “I’m going to get some air. Can I get you something on the way back?”

“Glass of wine, please.”

He nodded and left. There was one more avenue he could take. He texted the hotline as he walked back to the lobby. His phone wrang 30 seconds later.

“John, here.”

A professional sounding man said, “Password, please.”

“Axe hound.”

“Thank you, John. This is Arnold at IFHA. This call may be recorded for training purposes. What can I help you with?”

“I need you to run a background for Carl and Vivian Thomas. The job number is MLA24601.”

“Hold please.”

John adjusted his vest and flapped his jacket to get some air.

“I’m back. Thank you for your patience.”

“What did you find out?”

“Would you like the premium background results or the free background results?”

“Oh, um. What’s the difference? You know what never mind just give me the free one.” John was trying to be patient, but really? Premium background results?

Arnold read the results of the background reports. It was very typical. Carl’s great grandfather had owned a stake in the railroad that he’d turned into businesses. His grandfather, father, and Carl continued the trend of buying and selling businesses. Carl also had ties to some unsavory characters, but who they were was in the premium background.

Vivian’s background was heartbreaking.

John paused for so long after reading it that Arnold said, “John, are you there?”

“Um, yes, I’m here. Thank you for the information,” John sighed.

“Will you be continuing the assignment?”

John’s brain flipped, “Is that an option?” Arnold was throwing him a lifeline.

“It is. You’ll have to cancel the contract and then the writer will have to resubmit it. The process takes a few hours.”

If he cancelled the contract, it would go back out to the portal and get reassigned. The blood wouldn’t be on his hands, but the responsibility would. John clinched his jaw, he knew what he had to do.

He raced back out to the banquet hall, grabbed a drink, and place it on the table for Vivian.

“Ms. Thomas, I need to leave.” Music began playing.

“Aw, this is my favorite song.” She held up one finger, “Could I have one last dance before you go?” He couldn’t say no. There was too much hope in her eyes.

“Please?”

“Yes…I’ve got time for one more.”

They danced and this time no one spoke to them. John noticed they were giving them space. It was just the two of them, alone on the dance floor. They moved and swayed to the slow rhythm. They separated and he spun her slowly back to him. She floated as they danced, and her smile was bright enough to light up Time Square. The music faded out and John was surprised by the sudden feeling of loss he felt. It was as if dancing with Vivian made him a better person, as if by association he could change the world too.

He walked her back to the table. “I’m really sorry. I hate leaving you here like this, but I’ve had something come up.”

“Don’t worry. You’re getting a 5-star review from me. I haven’t gotten to dance in ages.” More people approached the table, waiting for their turn to talk to Vivian Thomas.

“Thank you, Ms. Thomas. Have a good night.”

John walked out. His night was over, but he wasn’t going home.

After acquiring a car, John went back to the Thomas estate and pushed the button at the gate.

An annoyed voice answered, “Who is it?”

“Hey, it’s me, John.”

“Who?”

“Don’t you remember me?”

“No,” the voice said gruffly.

“It’s John Starkey, your wife’s escort.”

There was a pause of about 5 heartbeats.

“You’re back early.”

John made a quick decision. “Yeah, I need to talk to you about something. I don’t know how to tell you this, but she’s dead.”

“She’s what?”

His voice quivered, “Look, she's dead. Can I come in?”

After a few seconds the gate opened and John drove in.

Carl Thomas was waiting for him in the driveway. A scowl cut across his face. He wore a blue bath robe and slippers.

“So, tell me what- “ he was cutoff as John shot him twice in the chest and drove away.

He took the car back where he found it and went to his cheap apartment. John made a bowl of cereal, while humming the last song he and Vivian had danced to. His phone dinged. It was another message from the unknown number. He went through the security steps again and opened his messages. There was a contract out on Carl Thomas. John smiled, cancelled the contract on Vivian, and accepted the one for Carl. Maybe he did have the stomach for this kind of thing.