Masquerade Mansion

How many times have you count to a hundred? Hundreds? Millions? Rowan lost count of those.

“Rowan! I’m going to be late, so hurry up!” Rowan’s roommate called.

She sighed and tossed an empty bag of Cheetos in the trash.

What am I doing here? Rowan thought. I should be out in Hollywood, signing autographs and taking pictures with people like Johnny Depp or Drew Barrymore, or even Kamenashi Kazuya, and he’s Japanese.

“Rowan!” she yelled even louder. “Hurry your butt up!”

Rowan rolled her eyes and stepped slowly away from her room door. This was how it was going to be from now. At least, until she could find a job and be able to maintain herself as a proper citizen. Not as a waitress at a Café Shop, who just happens to be able to sing from time to time. As an actress. Someone who is known and loved everywhere. A movie star. She smiled to herself at the thought of something so wild actually coming true.

Would I be a good kind of movie star? Rowan wondered. Or just a diva?

She followed Destiny, her roommate to the taxi waiting in front of their building. The taxi driver seemed impatient, and he honked his horn three times. Rowan and Destiny looked each other, then both got in. Destiny told the man where he was to go and the driver drove off the sidewalk, in a rather dangerous speed. The girls were tossed and bounced in their seats, their hearts beating wildly in their chests. Rowan thought she was going to die, that is until finally the driver pulled over in front of the Café Shop and held out his hand for the money.

After a terrible job of driving, this is what they always cared for. The money.

“Thanks,” Destiny muttered, handing him the cash and stepping out of the vehicle. Not long after did the car speed away in such a speed that they both thought he was going to crash in the next corner.
“I hate taxi drivers,” Rowan remarked, running her hand through her golden-red hair. “They’re some piece of work.”
“Well,” Destiny said, “we don’t have a car, so this is our means of transportation. You can’t complain. At least we’re not late.”

Rowan sighed. Well, of course she was right. They could have been late, and Lord only knows what would have happened to them then.

The boss doesn’t like tardiness, she thought, grinning.

The girls walked in the small Café Shop’s direction and made their way inside, linked by their arms. A sign of friends only separated by air. A few customers’ attention were caught by their entrance, as they continued to gaze at them from their tables. Destiny continued her runway walk proudly, but it was Rowan who had to look down to be able to walk straight. People, of course, made her nervous. Because you never know what they're going to do. Especially strangers.

“We’re not late, Greggy, dear!” Destiny giggled, taking her apron from the boss’s son’s hands. He smiled a shy smile and moved on to Rowan.

Greg was their boss’s son, though they didn’t act like it. They referred to each other as boss and employee whenever caught in conversation. Although, Rowan was almost certain she could see something along the lines of deep admiration for the boss in Greg’s eyes. Even though their boss repeatedly scolded him for his bad pranks and lack of responsibility, she could somehow feel that, other than them both having these big golden eyes and similar dark, brown hair, they had some similarities they couldn’t admit they had.

“Hey, Greg,” Rowan greeted, holding out her hand to take her black apron. But he held it tight. She sighed, knowing it would come to this. He always loved to tease her, since Rowan was what they called “shy like a mouse.” Every time she came for work, he always had a joke to tell her, or a little meaningless prank to pull on her. Not this time.

“Greg, give it, already,” she told him. “I don’t want to be late for work.”
“Oh,” he smiled, “but you’re already here. Dad’s not going to scold you. I need a little favor.”
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest, “what is it?”
He grinned deviously, stirring a quiet panic inside Rowan. What he planned to do this… couldn’t really be bad… Could it? She wondered, trying mentally to calm herself. Greg took a look around them and turned back to her, his golden eyes gazing deeply into hers. After a moment of awkward silence, he said, “I need a date.”

Rowan stared. A date? She thought. Not possible! Why would he want to go out…with me?

“A date?” she asked.
“A date,” he repeated, a bit smug.
“What for?”
“Eh, there’s this…show. A play, but it’s actually an audition. There’s these professional judges there that will test them and see if they’re good enough to compete in this competition.” He paused, then smiled, seeing Rowan’s look of innocent curiosity and awe. He had her.
“You gonna do me this favor, or not?” he finally asked, holding the apron to her.

Rowan stared at it, not knowing what to say. He was actually inviting her to…a play, where there would be auditions for a real acting competition. Her chance just waiting to be grabbed and pulled. But…was it an acting competition? He didn’t say…

“Rowan? Rowan!”
She looked up at him, and blinked a few times before answering, “Yes. I’ll do it.” Her voice was strangely shaky and uneven.
Greg smirked. “Good,” he said.
“So…” She cleared her throat, and asked, “What’s the competition for?”
“Oh, it’s this competition they’re holding at this fancy mansion. They say that the winner will get to be some famous actor, or whatever.” He said it like there was no real importance to it.
There was. A very big meaning. “Really? That’s…exciting.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “It has a name, actually.”
“What is it?”
“Masquerade.”