Anthology Two Presents

Mysteria
"Year One"
By Jericho Vilar

For the most part, it felt like she was drowning. It usually started with sudden bursts of cold sweat followed by feelings of claustrophobia. Then came the blurred vision and the shortness of breath. The best, and consequently the highest paid, physicians of Pacific City diagnosed her panic attacks to be purely psychological in nature and could be easily controlled with just the right amount of psychotherapy. It came right after her first doctor’s appointment during a luncheon benefit that her company held, her most severe panic attack to date. After being told by one of her personal assistants that she had passed out into her egg drop soup, she realized that going to a shrink may not be the solution.

"Apple martini please."

So she quickly turned to prescription drugs and mixed drinks.

Victoria Burke turned and looked for the bartender. She'd spent the total of fifteen minutes wandering through the packed art gallery. During each of those fifteen minutes, she felt her pulse race with every impersonal greeting and droplets of sweat form with each faceless name offerring stock market advice. To prevent the attack from going any further Victoria made the very conscious decision of planting herself on a stool at the bar. Now for the last and most important part of the equation that was still missing.

"Bartender!"

The young bartender's head popped up from behind the bar. Her emerald eyes widened the moment she who her first customer was.

"Miss Burke! I'm so sorry…I..I…"

Victoria turned to the young bartender and ran a well manicured finger through her hair. She looked over her rattled server and winked.

"It's quite alright."

"It's just that….uh….I thought that the bar didn't open 'till nine…I thought I had…."

"Don't worry about it. It's fine. My fault actually. I’m the one who's early."

Victoria smiled and speared a olive with a cocktail stirrer. The rattled young bartender forced a laugh from her lips. It was very apparent that she had never encountered a celebrity of Victoria's calibur before. Victoria deduced that this was her first gig tending bar at any place not frequented by bikers or rowdy college students, she was the kind of person looked up to and admired the people she read about in the local tabloids, and that in essence she was a nice person in need of money.

"So w...w…what can I get you Miss Burke?"

Victoria twirled the olive in her mouth then bit into it. "Apple martini please."

She had to develop the skill of reading people at a very early age. It was because of something that her father had told her. 'In this business, my dear, one has to know everything about who one is working with, for, or against because it is a safe bet that the person one is working with, for, or against knows everything about you.' Victoria's father was a multi-millionaire and the head of several companies. He was grooming her to take over every facet of his business hence the lessons on corporate espionage tactics at age twelve. Being around CEOs and attorneys these days, Victoria couldn't thank her father enough for the lessons.

She turned around from the bar and out towards the crowd. She saw tailored suits and extrvagant dresses. She saw fake Hollywood kisses and plastic handshakes. She saw men and women talking. None of them even pretending to listen. Not minutes ago, she was in the eye of that storm shaking hands and kissing cheeks and complimenting attires and congratulating successful business ventures. She hated every minute of it. Being the daughter of a very famous philanthrophist, she understood that venturing forth into blue blood social circles would be part of the job but she never knew how much she loathed it. It was upon said realization that her panic attacks started. They always came during social situations and they always came when she just happened upon the spotlight of everyone’s attention.

Behind her, glasses clinked and clanked. She had to ask herself why she was even here in the first place. It was for charity, she reminded herself and sighed.

"Miss Burke? Here you go, Miss Burke."

Once she turned back to face the bar she found an elegantly made apple martini sitting in front of here. Her eyes perked up for a second, as she picked up the glass and put it to her lips. She finished it in one gulp. The young bartender stared in astonishment.

She put the glass down on the bartop and speared herself another olive. A soothing calm washed over the back of her head and caused the vicelike grip from her air passages to loosen. She looked at the bartender and exhaled in relief.

"Another one please."

"Uh…yes ma’am."

The bartender began fumbling with the bottles and glasses all the while shifting her gaze from Victoria to the drink that she was in the middle of mixing.

Victoria's head rested on the palm of her head as she stared off into the distance. She occasionally nodded and waved to the crowd in front of her. She was flaunting her extraordinary ability of making other people believe that she was genuinely glad to see them. A talent that she had all but perfected these days.

"Miss Burke?"

Victoria perked up a bit and turned back to the bartender. "Yes?"

The bartender brushed her hair back and tried to the smile the nervousness away. "I was just wondering…uh…I was wondering why you look so…uh…is there anything wrong?"

Victoria couldn’t help but smile. That was the most sincere question that she’s heard all day.

"Hmmm. That’s a very good question actually but before I go any further I have a question for you."

"Sure."

"Are you sure you want to hear this because the last thing I need is to start talking to a person who isn't really listening. I mean, if I wanted that I could get that out there." With that she pointed out into the crowd. "So are you sure you want to listen to this?"

The bartender grinned and place the martini in front of Victoria. "Of course."

Victoria took a sip from the martini and leaned closer to the bartender. "I hate going to things like this."

The bartender was slightly taken aback. "Wait, but don’t you go to things like these all the time?"

Victoria nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do and I hate it. Every single time. Even when I was small, my father used to take me to cocktail parties, charity events like this, business functions and I’ve always hated it. It’s the people more than anything. Everyone’s so fake. Whenever they talk to you they always expect you to listen but when it’s your turn to talk they walk away."

The bartender looked into the crowd and then back to Victoria. "I don't know if I'm being out of line but aren't those people your friends?"

Victoria’s face turned to stone. "I have no friends."

The bartender turned red and looked down. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Victoria shook her head and forced out a smile, a task made easier with another sip from her martini. "It's quite alright. You learn to live with it."

She drained her glass and handed it back to the bartender.

"Sometimes I wish I could just disappear."

The bartender couldn’t respond. How would she respond to that?

"I know what you could do."

Victoria shot the bartender a look of confusion.

"They have a hypnotist on the stage right down the hall."

Victoria's eyes narrowed.

"I mean if you don’t like hanging around here I thought that….maybe…."

Victoria watched as the bartender fumbled with her words and thought about the notion of being hypnotized. She then got up and brushed the stray strands of her hair back.

"I think I’ll do that."

Victoria reached into her purse and placed the bartender’s tip directly in front of her.

"Thanks."

She smiled and walked away from the bar.

Once Victoria was out of sight, the bartender quickly exhaled. She took the empty glass and put it on the sink under the bar. Before forgetting, she also grabbed her tip but before she put it into her pocket, something about it caught her eye.

"Bartender!"

She unfolded the bill and her jaw dropped.

"Bartender!"

In it, the text read ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS.

"Hey bartender!"

It was dark. Victoria had to push through thick velvet curtains before entering the room. The stage was small and seated about thrity people. It was illuminated by candlelight and a lone spotlight.

And under the spotlight stood a slender, old man in suit and cloak. The center of attention.

"Hypnotism is indeed a form of magic, ladies and gentlemen. Granted, I know you've all seen so-called hypnotists on day time television shows performing so bad that you could smell the stench of rehearsals during their acts. It is because of men like them that I am here. I'm here to prove to all of you that there is more to hypnosis than making one bark like a dog on command or re-living past memeories in one's head."

The spotlight grew around the old man. Victoria stumbled to seat. Her eyes were transfixed on the old man. She couldn't figure out why see couldn’t turn