Happy Valentines Day
February 14th. Valentines day, or evening as it actually was, and the annual dinner and dance ball was in full swing. Just like every year, the event hosted some of New York's finest. This was not a cheap event by any means. The per couple price tag to attend was more then most New Yorkers made in six, maybe even seven, months of employment. Most of the attendees had known extravagances like this their whole lives. Born into families that had made their fortunes long ago and tonight's guests had continued in those family businesses. There were wall street investors here. Men (and women) whose grandparents had formed companies that ran the gauntlet from oil and gas to railroads and real estate. Thus making the party a very exclusive event. Those attending had been attending for many years and wouldn't dream of missing it. The setting each year was in the ballroom of the very posh New Yorker hotel on the upper side of Manhattan. Located on the 9th floor of the twenty four story hotel, the ballroom was the perfect venue for this party. The history of the place and the hotel was rich and far reaching. Built back in the 20's, the hotel had played host to several past presidents and celebrities over the years. Franklin D Roosevelt was the first president to visit. He had thrown a huge party here after defeating Hoover in 32. In fact, several of the idea's that made up his New Deal to help pull the county out of the great depression had been born that night in this very room with some of the movers and shakers of that time. Several other presidents had followed FDR's lead and they too had held their post election parties here at the New Yorker. Tonight's party certainly was living up to the hotels reputation. The guests had started arriving at 6 pm. As old friends mingled and got caught up, waiters in white tuxedos walked through the crowd serving flutes of perrier-jouet champagne. Over to the side on the slightly raised stage area Arnie Johnson and the Starry Night Orchestra quietly played along in the background. Their job now was to provide soft, soothing background music. Later after dinner the guests would have the chance be able to dance with their partners or just relax and enjoy the music. At 8:00 pm sharp dinner was served. The tables were covered with white linens and fine royal doulton china. Each table featured a vase centerpiece that was full of long stem red roses and dainty babies breath. After everyone had been seated Joseph Peterson, this years host and planner, raised his glass and offered a toast. To another year of health, good fortune and most of all, the reason they were all here. Love. May they enjoy this meal, each other and the one they brought with them tonight. The party goers dined on beef bourguignon, asparagus with cannellina bean sauce and grilled rosemary lamb chops. The wait staff kept busy attending to every need. Chairs were pulled out and pushed in for the ladies. Glasses were refilled as soon as they were empty. A little after 9 Arnie and the band gathered themselves back out on the stage. The four trumpet players blasted out a note and the rest of the musicians followed suit. Soon the band was belting out My Old Flame. Martha Kellerman was the first one up. She grabbed her husband John and with a laugh pulled him to his feet and started to tug him towards the dance floor. "If you all will excuse me," he said to his friends as they all laughed and raised their glasses. His wife was usually the first one on the floor every year and this was one was no exception. Soon others joined them. Karla and Steven Franz. Robert and Carol Steinman. By the time the band was finishing their song more then half of the couples were on the dance floor. When My Old Flame finished Arnie stepped up to the microphone as his audience applauded him. "Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you all for coming out tonight. I trust you all are having a wonderful evening and I hope that it continues. Please allow us to play some of your favorite songs and if you have any special requests by all means come up and let us know. In the meantime feel free to dance along or just sit back and socialize. The night is young and we aren't going anywhere for awhile. Again, thank you and happy valentines day!" More applause and then Arnie started to croon out their rendition of Love Sends a Little Gift of Roses as his orchestra backed him up. Up at the bar the bartender tended to a group of men who were enjoying some after dinner drinks and getting caught up with each other. Their wives congregated around a couple of the tables and shared stories that only women could tell and would want to hear for that matter. Keith Owens finished his drink and sat it down on the polished mahogany wood. Right away Stan was there. "Can I fill your glass Mr. Owens?" "No Stan, not quite yet." answered Keith and excused himself. He had been keeping a eye on Martha and John out on the dance floor, mostly on Martha. He had always found her to be a beautiful woman and he always felt a tinge of jealousy towards her husband John. Keith reached over and pulled out one of the long stem roses from the centerpiece vase that sat on the first table he passed on the way up to the dance floor. Approaching Martha's husband from behind he tapped him on the shoulder. John turned to see Keith standing there with a rose in his hand. "May I have this dance with your lovely wife John," Keith asked the man. "Why of course Mr. Owens you may. I need a break anyway. This woman is wearing me out! Martha, excuse me. I'll be up at the bar." "For you Martha" as Keith handed her the long stem rose. "Mr Owens, my your quite the charmer aren't you?" she asked him coyly. "I only get that way when I behold beauty Madam. May I have this dance?" "You may. What shall I do with this lovely flower you brought me?" "Here, give it to me. I'll lay it over here on the floor and I'll retrieve it for you after you've honored me with a dance." Keith took the rose and walked over to the edge of the stage and laid the flower on the floor. Right up by the stage it would be safe from getting stepped on or kicked around. He whisked back over and extended his right hand and Martha grabbed it with hers. He pulled her into him with his left and soon they were moving in time to the music as Arnie continued singing in his soft deep voice. "I gotta tell you Martha, you look stunning. You don't look like you have aged a day since last year." "Mr. Owens, if I didn't know you too be such a upstanding gentleman and a pillar of the community I would think you were coming on to me." Keith laughed as he weaved to the left with Mrs. Kellerman pulled tight. Meanwhile, outside the closed ballroom doors and down the hallway, maintenance man Mike Brooks was coming out of room 916. He looked at his watch and saw it read 9:40. He mentally cursed at himself for taking so long repairing the leak under the sink in the bathroom. The guests that had checked out that day had brought it to the attention of the front desk and the work order was added to Mike's long list of repairs that had to be done that day. He would have been able to leave on time at 5:30 if his two coworkers hadn't called in sick and abandoned him for that day. Course he couldn't much blame them. It was valentines day and both of them were newly weds celebrating their first valentines day married. He and his wife Debbie were veterans he guessed. They had been together for twelve years now so postponing their celebration a day or two wouldn't hurt. He had called her to tell her that he had had to cancel their dinner reservations. He simply could not leave work until the emergency repairs were done. He promised her that he would make it up to her this weekend and she had laughed and told him that he better! "Get your work done and get home here," she had playfully told him. Mike smiled as he thought of that. He pulled the door behind him shut and turned left to head to the elevator. After two steps Mike stopped. He cocked his head slightly. Was that music he heard? Very faintly, he thought that he did. Briefly, his breathing stopped and he remained motionless as he concentrated on any sound his ears might hear. There was only one. And it was music. But where could it be coming from? There were sixteen rooms on this floor and only a few of them were occupied. He turned around and started walking back in the opposite direction. Every five or six steps he would stop and retrain his ears. Clearly as anything he continued to hear the music. And now not only music but it sounded like voices and laughter were mixed in with it as well. Suddenly he was aware that his increasing heartbeat was starting to compete with the music in his ears. Was it coming from the ballroom? Maybe it was possible that the hotel was having a party here tonight but if they were he wasn't aware of it. Besides, they hadn't used this place in the twelve years he had worked here. He knew the story. The place was once been THE meeting place in New York city and it had hosted hundreds of events. But as time went by the owners of the hotel realized they needed a much more bigger and more modern meeting place if they were to hang on to their reputation as one of the city's finest hotels. So, twenty years ago they had gutted the entire top floor and converted it into the hotels new convention room that could play host to anything. Matter of fact, they were using it tonight and hosting the twenty first annual valentines dinner and dance gala. As Mike approached the former ballroom he knew that he had found the source of the noise. There WAS music playing on the other side of the shut doors. He placed his ear against the door, instantly think how dumb of a thing to do. Did he need to hear it any clearer then he was hearing it just standing here? There was no mistaking it. Someone was having a party in the old ballroom. He reached out to try the door and that's when he noticed his hand was shaking. He mentally guided it to the door handle and grasped it weakly in his hand. The handle felt cold. Really cold. Cold to the point that it almost hurt to have to grip it tight enough to be able to turn it to open the door. With his heart now pounding inside his chest he tried the door. Locked. Now his mind was racing. What should he do? Should he call the front desk and ask them who's using the room? They might tell him that yes, someone is hosting a private affair in there tonight. Only problem with that is he had been working right down the hallway for the last two hours and hadn't heard anyone coming or going. If they answered that no one was using it then what? Would they think he was joking with them? What would they say if he told them that it was locked, supposedly empty but he could hear music and voices on the other side of the shut, locked doors. He decided to just knock on the door and find out himself who was in there. With a hand that was still shaky he tapped on the massive wooden door. Tap, Tap, Tap. No answer. The music kept playing. The people continued to talk and laugh. Regaining a little of his courage Mike pounded on the door. Louder this time. After the third knock the music died and the chatter ceased. He put his ear back up to the door and listened while deciding it didn't matter how dumb he looked.. Complete silence. "Who's in there?" asked Mike with a voice that now had turned dry and raspy, devoid of any moisture. Again, silence. With hands that had gone from shaky to full out trembling, Mike reached down and removed his keys from his tool belt. He had a key to every door of the New Yorker on his key ring. He knew he had one to the old ballroom but which one was it? All the keys were numbered and he knew the ones he used the most but it had been years since he had been in here. Fumbling through the keys with hands that didn't want to cooperate, he stopped on one that stood out from the rest. It was older looking. The initials B.R were burnt on the side. This was it! Mike took several deep breathes and tried to will his heart and hands to slow down. Using both hands (one to hold, one to guide) he slid the key in the door knob and turned it. He felt the tumblers inside the handle turn and drop and he knew he had unlocked the door. After replacing his keys on his belt he grabbed the cold door handle again. This time it didn't resist and opened for him. Slowly he pushed open the door and as the first crack between the two doors appeared Mike saw total darkness. Still pushing ever so slowly he reached down on the other side of his belt and removed his flashlight. His heart returned to it's rapid beating but now it felt like it was in his head and throat. A wave of fear came over him that he had never felt before. Every hair on his head and body seemed to stand at attention. "Hello" he attempted to say but instead it came out like some kind of guttural groan. He squeezed through the opening in the doors and surprised himself by how quickly he reached the side of the door where the master light switch was. He turned on the light switch and heard a muffled popping sound and saw the faintest glow of light start in the chandeliers. He remembered that these lights were slow to fully come on and it took time for them to do so. He turned on his flashlight and lifted it up so the beam of light shone out in front of him. The ray of light showed tables covered with protective sheets and boxes stacked on them. As he moved the light to his right he could see the stage platform. More boxes were stacked on it. In the light given off by his flashlight the cardboard looked yellow and faded. As the light from the chandeliers started to grow stronger Mike could see that boxes were everywhere in this room. Apparently the old ballroom of the New Yorker had become a storage unit. Old signs leaned against the far left wall. The bar towards the back had long ago gone dry. The once dark and deeply rich mahogany bar now was faded, covered with dust. The mirror behind it was dirty and reflected only junk. His courage seemed to grow as the light from above did. He slipped inside the room and turned off his flashlight. Didn't need it anymore. As he holstered it back into his tool belt something caught his eye. There was something on the floor up by the old stage. It had color to it. Color in this old, musty smelling room where most of the colors had faded away a long time ago. Mike walked toward the object to investigate. As he approached it he stopped and bent down to pick it up. It was a single long stem red rose. He felt it to make sure it was real. It was. He smelled it and it offered fragrance over the staleness of the room. Whoever had dropped this flower in this room had been here recently. Very recently. As he scratched his head and tried to make sense of all this he heard what sounded like a lady giggle behind him. Whipping around in a instant he shouted out "Who's there!" Another giggle and then Mike felt bodies all around him. He couldn't see them but he didn't have to. He sensed them. He felt them. Standing on what used to be the old dance floor he felt surrounded by them. The terror he had felt before came rushing back like a freight train. Mike dropped the rose and bolted towards the door. Getting out of this place was the only thing his mind could focus on. He raced across the room and bolted out of the door that he came in through. He hit the hallway at full stride and didn't even stop to take the elevator down. The stairs were straight ahead and they would do just fine. Meanwhile, back in the direction Mike had just come from, the light was starting to fade again inside the old ballroom. The light switch was now in the off position and just as it took several minutes for the lights to power up it also took them time to fully shut off. With the last bit of light fading, the door to the ballroom slammed shut. The lock tumblers could be heard falling in place. And then the music started again.
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