#HeartOfFlesh - excerpt cp27 Controlled disorder
They take turns to go down and gather in the hall.
He leaves the glass building that saw him enter in jeans, a sweatshirt
and sneakers and now sees him exit as if he were his own very reflection
escaping and not really him. Andrea Messes couldn’t be walking with six hundred
euro shoes on his feet.
And the whole entourage of nine women and eleven men, all superbly
magnificent in their grace and elegance, are not made of flesh, but of shining
crystal.
Ian walks ahead and gestures for them to get inside one of the black
Mercedes that reflect their white clothes. Each car has a driver wearing
glasses and the windows are blacked out, enclosing them in anonymity.
As Andrea gets in, Ian says he wants him at his side, so Maicol sits in
front.
They take off slowly and in line.
For a while, he recognizes the streets, but then suddenly loses his
bearings. He touches the glass, bewildered, and his leg starts swaying
frenetically. His leg which is now dressed in an outfit he cannot afford.
“Don’t be so tense,” says Ian.
Andrea gasps; he had become accustomed to the dull roar of the engine.
“It’s just a party,” he continues without looking at him. He
stares out the window and brushes over his chin with his index finger.
“Yeah, but I’ve never worn seven thousand euros of clothes.”
He sighs. “And what’s more, they’re not mine.”
Ian smiles slightly. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask you for a reimbursement if
you spill a drink over yourself. I’m insured for this.“ He looks at him
for a moment and then looks back at the road. "Control your internal turmoil
and use the mask as a barrier for your fears.”
Internal turmoil? How does he know how I feel? Is that even possible? I
am so transparent to him?
“Easy to say.”
“The first time I met you, you introduced yourself as Key,” he
says, throwing him a quick glance. “You were playing a role. Do it again,
if it makes you feel calmer. That’s why I thought of calling you that tonight,”
he suggests, moving his shoulders.
"I’ll try…” He’d like to ask him how he’ll explain that to Susanna
later, since it’s the same name, but Maicol would hear him. So, he just nods.
“Remember also not to answer the questions they’ll ask you. Mystery
is the key to success,” he gives him a slight smile, accentuating
the word for the double meaning.
“All right.”
“You have to remember that the people you’ll meet tonight want to
live a fantasy,” he says, staring at him seriously. “They may know
Andrea because he’s an ordinary guy.” He stops to sink into the chair and
rest his shoulders. “Key, on the other hand, they don’t. Do you
understand?” he asks him with a quick glance. “It’s just a game and just
for tonight. Have fun interpreting Key. If you have fun, you’ll also be more
spontaneous. Understood?”
"Yes.”
Ian tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “We’re not far now,
relax.”
“Are you playing a role too?”
Ian smiles, remaining in the same position. “Everyone plays a role,
Andrea. But I prefer to be myself, just that I impose barriers.” He sighs.
“For everyone I am the Count. To my colleagues, I am Dorian. For some I am
Ian and for a few…” He stops and stares at him intently. “You’re not
among those few, therefore, be happy with Ian.” And he pulls out that
ambiguous face he had hoped not to see anymore. His eyes fall into the shade of
his hair and peer at him from the abyss.
“I consider myself very lucky already.”
“Trust me when I say you’re right.” Ian looks away.
He had understood he was a complex person. A little moody, too, but he
would never have guessed Ian had many layers. A doubt, however, comes to mind
when he remembers Nicolle; she calls him Ian too. So perhaps only his relatives
know his last layer. Or maybe it’s his darker side he demonstrates to the few.
The car slows down, interrupting his thoughts.
“Here we are,” says Ian, sitting up straight. He puts on his hat
and takes a deep breath. “Let the show begin.” He opens the door and
the flashes of cameras dazzle him.
Adoring voices call him and a crowd circles him.
“Come, little Key.” Maicol turns and smiles. “The excited
girls can’t wait to tear into you.” He imitates the roar of a lion. Then, he
goes out and other flashes of light burst into the car.
Andrea grabs the door handle, trying to control his internal disorder. His
skin sizzles like it were on a grill. His heart is breaking through his rib
cage. And his hand trembles so much he can’t even lower a simple lever.
There’s only one door which separates him from the new world he’s about
to enter and he wonders why he’s doing it.
For the money?
Because Susanna is keen?
To glorify himself and his pride?
For curiosity?
He’s afraid of changing and perhaps Ian’s right. The only thing is to be
oneself, but impose barriers. He was still Andrea that afternoon in Clusone,
but had placed Key before him as a layer which protected his true Essence. His
true Self.
Andrea thinks back to the image of the reflection. He focuses, he puts
it around him and feels he can control the turmoil. His breathing becomes more regular.
Now he’s calm and he lowers the handle.
He places a foot on the ground, then steps out as if he were among
friends.
He’s bombarded by flashes and questions that assail him like loose
cannons, but as soon as Ian and Maicol put themselves at his side, he smiles.
“Good evening everyone. I am Key,“ he says with a confident voice.
And time stops in a glow of Solomonic certainty: now he knows who he was
on stage with Nicolle.
