Masquerade

“Masks on, girls.” Corrine said to the small group of women she had brought to the grand hall in the Lotte New York Palace. “It’s twenty after seven. Let the evening begin.”

Corrine watched her employees file out of the Women’s Lounge with a scrutinizing eye. “Remember,” she advised, “spread out and mingle. Work it. We got this.”

A pep talk with encouraging words lit a spark. Through the propped open double doors, one by one the girls, dressed in slinky, form fitting dresses of varied color and length, sashayed, each scoping the sparse crowd of early attendees at this black-tie affair. Two girls walked towards the tables, while a third went to stand near and pretend to peruse the items in the silent auction.

“This party looks like a snooze fest.” Said one girl, making her way to towards some guests already seated.

“Makes it so much harder for us.” The second girl agreed, tossing her head, making her long earrings bounce against her neck.

Corrine knew what the girls were thinking. She’d been hired to attend too many extravaganzas that fell flat. Parties full of cheapskates who had been given a ticket to fill a seat, but had no intention of spreading the wealth, even though they had more money than they could spend. It was up to them, this small group of four professional working girls. They were paid to ensure these fund raisers did just that, raise funds. Happy guests were more likely to dig deep into their pockets. And what made these stingy men happy? A pretty girl fawning over them, paying them compliments and flirting, shamelessly. It was an art they’d perfected.

“Okay, CoCo,” Corrine said to herself, “your turn.” Mustering up her confidence was the hardest part of the evening. Coaxing her mouth to turn up at the corners in an alluring, albeit fake smile, she left her insecurities behind. Once she had on her metaphorical mask, the job was practically done.

Corrine—CoCo, as she preferred to be called while working—walked in with a commanding presence and stood at the bar of the high society gala, feeling at ease in her vibrant red dress that clung to her curves like icing on a cake. The chandeliers above bathed her in a warm glow, but she felt cold inside. The years of struggle as she worked her way up in her unique industry of choice had draped her in layers of frost. From her first job as an exotic dancer for hire to a regular gig at a gentlemen’s club, Corrine had worked her way up and now managed a high end escort service.

The driving force was a childhood shrouded in neglect. Motherless from birth and with an emotionally unavailable father, the wall behind which she existed taught her to turn her emotions into shadows, and her hunger for attention into a quest for the good life.

Despite the challenges she faced, Corrine triumphed using her personal history to empower herself and achieve success in a field that oddly devalued and undermined women. This gala, an ostentatious affair hosted by some nameless power broker, and many like it, was the field upon which she made her ascension. She and her girls were well-equipped party favors for the elite, centerpieces to distract from their own banalities.

The bubbling of laughter rose from the gatherers and mixed with the tinkling of glassware, while the notes from the string quartet wove their way through the crowd. CoCo glided above the hubbub of social interaction, her natural aversion to human relations quelled by the professionalism with which she presented herself. As she sipped champagne from her glass, she scanned the crowd. Years spent observing allowed her to hone her instincts—reading body language, deciphering intent, and understanding the unspoken rules of her world.

Sprinkled about the center of the crowd were the men. Boisterously schmoozing, engaging in benign chit-chat, while on the far side of the grand room, gathered the clusters of impeccably dressed wives and girlfriends in drab colors with similar hair-dos. Among them stood a familiar figure. The woman seemed to be the center of attention as she gracefully embraced the admiration and compliments of the other women.

“Meredith,” one clone spoke through her upturned nose, “The excitement at this gathering is growing. You have the knack for such events.”

The others nodded like puppets. It was hard for Meredith to accept the forced accolades. She knew the truth. This event was fizzling out like the already poured champagne, releasing its bubbles against the crystal flutes. In the advertising firm she had worked since graduating, the family business for which she had earned a degree, the only job she’d ever wanted, she was still only the company’s party planner. She had dreams of becoming an executive, but promotion after promotion had slipped through her fingers.

“Meredith?” As recognition set in, the whisper, barely audible, fluttered from Corrine’s lips before she could stop herself. There before her, elegant and poised, stood Meredith, her childhood best friend. Caught between the present and the past, CoCo abandoned her act as she became the quiet, angry child of her youth.

Meredith Hawthorne. The name embedded itself in her chest like a giant fishhook, pulling her back to the memories of the past when she and Meredith were students at an all girls boarding school. Corrine remembered the laughter shared in classrooms full of uniform wearing students. The nights when they snuck out to eat candy under the bleachers and dream of making their own way in the world.

For Corrine, Meredith was the only source of love amidst a painful upbringing, making it even more tragic when time and circumstance had driven them apart. Societal pressure took Meredith in one direction while Corrine, who never belonged in that world, drifted to the side. The warm childhood bond that had once knitted them together unraveled as their lives diverged.

“Meredith.” Corrine confirmed, louder this time.

“Have we met before?” Meredith turned towards her former friend with a knee-jerk response.

“It’s me, Corrine.” Corrine felt the unanimous scornful stare of the group of debutants.

“Corrine?” A question tinged with disbelief whispered in her ear as Meredith took her elbow and gently led her a few steps away.

“I go by CoCo now. Long time no see.” Corrine tilted her head, adding a tease to her words as the reality of their years apart settled between them like an awkward guest.

As Meredith scrutinized her friend with sharp, perceptive eyes, Corrine sensed the judgement. When understanding filled Meredith’s face, Corrine wondered if her old friend could connect this refined image with the damaged girl she used to be.

“What brings you here?” Meredith asked, her polite façade faltering as she caught a glimpse of the jury of her peers.

“Work, like everyone else.” Corrine winked. She made no excuses.

“Right.” Meredith nodded, then paused with unsaid thoughts. “You look great,” she added, yet there was an unspoken ‘for what you do’ hanging in the air.

The unspoken words carried an innuendo that served as a painful reminder of their contrasting lives. In the brief pause, Corrine gathered her courage and fixed her temporarily displaced mask.

“Thanks. You too.” CoCo clicked with her tongue. “Princeton graduate. Good for you. Your family must be proud of the work you do at Hawthorne and Sons.” The calculated compliment echoed across the gulf between them.

Meredith’s smile faltered, revealing the cracks of her own insecurities. “I’m still trying to prove I’m more than just my last name. I want to prove my worth, but all my father sees is my brothers.” Meredith had grown up with the weight of old money in a family with archaic values where men were men and women were there to maintain the family reputation. “People always seem to think…”

“That you’re entitled to everything because you’re rich and well connected?” CoCo interjected. She recalled Meredith’s complaints about the obligatory social events she had to go to. The priority was always the family’s reputation. “Do you still worry about what others think?”

“Every day.” Meredith sighed. “I envy you. You don’t have to worry what people are thinking of you.”

“…because everyone knows what they think.” Corrine finished the thought in her head but refused to be insulted by what she’d inferred.

“You envious of me? Please,” Corrine said, masking the hurt. “I’m just a glorified call girl here to make sure someone’s party is a hit. It’s not as glamorous as it seems.” CoCo felt a tingle of pride. She suspected Meredith’s future depended upon the success of this party. Unlike her old friend, Corrine had become more than her past, even if it wasn’t always a fairy tale.

Meredith looked at CoCo, and for a split second, the party faded into a blur. There was no status, no escort or PR consultant from a top-end firm, just two young girls with dreams of a different life. Lost in the maze of who they were now, Meredith realized her unresolved grief.

“I wanted my folks to help you, Corrine,” Meredith whispered. “We could have granted you a scholarship had you applied.”

“I wasn’t smart enough. I didn’t fit in your world, Mere.”

“Not back then, but look at you now,” Meredith argued. “I would love it if we could get to know each other again. Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Maybe, but not for you.” CoCo proclaimed, knowing the chasm between them hadn’t diminished. Time had only driven them farther apart. “The call girl and the ad exec. Two who are most unlikely to be friends according to society. I am who I am and make no mistake, I am who I want to be. It’ll take more than a gala to stitch this friendship back together. Let’s keep it real.”

For the first time that evening, CoCo felt a rush of warmth enveloping her heart, shoving aside the icy layers built by her previous years. With a bittersweet smile, she hugged her friend, gave her a kiss on the cheek, then walked away. Still within earshot, she heard Meredith’s debutant companions in fake hush tones admonishing her for consorting with the “help”.

Corrine smiled at the intended slight that missed the target. Waiting for her at the bar was François Molyneux, a wealthy philanthropist she had escorted to many top social events across the city.

“Bonne soiree, CoCo, my darling.” François said with a slight French accent, kissing his escort on both cheeks. “You are stunning tonight.”

“Merci, monsieur Molyneux.” Corrine tilted her head to the side, chin down, and looked at her client through thick lashes. With a stronger air of confidence, she owned the room. She felt her mask flaking away from her face.

“François, do you know my mother named me Corrine?”

“Then I shall call you Corrine, mon amour. Would you like that?”

“Oui, Monsieur.” Corrine smiled for real and received genuine affection from François. Seeing him as if for the first time, she thought maybe he was more than just a client.

The mask she had worn for so long had melted away. No more did she need to hide. This job was her career, her livelihood, and she was damn good at it, too.

Coming from disparity, she couldn’t help but rejoice at the place she had made for herself. With resolve anew, she decided to enjoy the evening. Amidst the contrast was her friend, Meredith, still accepting criticisms thinly veiled as compliments. Despite her early advantages, Meridith still struggled with her childhood insecurities.

Corrine wished nothing but the best for her friend, but held out little hope Meredith would ever break free and embark on a journey of self discovery. More likely it was, her true self would remain hidden, buried beneath the shimmering cloak of tinsel she wore. And if you look beyond the shiny exterior all you may find is more tinsel.