One week later
Jowi, wearing a slightly more formal attire today for the event, replacing his sweater with a plain white tee shirt and a jacket, entered the venue, and found himself a nice seat in the middle, somewhere he could keep an eye on the venue with a stand if need be, and waited for the show to start.
Monty sighed from her spot behind the red velvet curtain. Several things had already gone wrong that evening; the worst being her sampler disappearing seemingly into thin air. But she was determined to make it through the night, head held high and temper cool. Her dress was a deep, rosy crimson with a slit cut just high enough to see above her knee, the crystal around her neck gleaming in the dim light. The curtain started to rise and she stepped out to applause.
“Good even my darlings!”
Jowi was a bit on edge, regretting that he had come and talked to Monty, knowing that it could make her a target by the Foundation’s enemies, but was determined to keep her safe through this performance. He clapped and cheered with everyone else, though, trying to seem as normal as possible, as not to attract any attention.
The singer spotted him almost immediately, but refrained from making contact. It would have been quite unproffesional of her to point him out as well as rude. Instead, she continued the introduction. “I hope you are as excited as I am! Tonight’s show is a real treat!” Monty grinned, relishing in the calls and cheers and without second thought, Dream Weaver appeared behind her. Numerous crystals filled the air around her, one for every table and with a wave of her hand, sent them flying to the empty centerpieces. “Hit it!” She shouted at the musician at the piano. He nodded, opening with the song “He’s A Tramp” By Peggy Lee.
“Hmm, So this is your Stand, huh… let’s see how you use it….” Jowi muttered, sitting back, and trying to enjoy himself.
Monty grinned as she grabbed the mic, hips swaying to the band. In her mind’s eye, the stage beneath her onyx heels was changing, expanding a little, the lights a tad brighter. Behind her, men appeared, neatly dressed in black suits and a plain black mask covering their faces. Each note was perfect, each crescendo invigorating; each break found at least one of the masked men holding out their hand to her for a dance. She would take it, replacing the mic and allowed them to sweep her across the stage. Gleaming green eyes glanced up at Jowi’s table when one in particular dipped her low.
“Illusions….” Jowi said, as the setting began to change, chuckling, “Or perhaps the altering of reality itself… What a terrifying power.”
When she glanced up at him, he gave her a thumbs up and an encouraging nod.