Enticing An Angel by Leo Charles Taylor Read Free Book Online

the
opportunity to correct his carefree partner.
    "And don't call me little Angel," he said.
"That's what my niece and nephew are. I haven't been a little angel
in over twenty years, although my mother still calls me one from
time to time."
    "Oh, well then I'll just call you my personal
Angel," she said as she danced away from him.
    They eventually made it to the museum, and
Michael had to admit that he was impressed. The first thing he
noticed was that the entry line was a block long and very wide. In
addition, the outside building soffits had colored lights, and
laser effects were being cast against the white walls. Through the
two story windows that graced most of the first floor, they could
see people dancing, strobe effects, a live band, and another laser
show being performed for those inside the lobby.
    "Nice," he said as he and Melanie walked to
the back of the line. "Any idea how long it takes to get
inside?"
    "Oh, about fifteen to thirty minutes with a
line this long," she commented.
    Michael watched the entryway for a second and
his brow furrowed. Melanie continued to pull him along but his
curiosity got the better of him.
    "Why don't those people have to wait?" he
asked as he tilted his head in the direction of the doors. Melanie
stopped her advance and looked to the museum. The building had
several front doors and the far left ones were currently being used
for special admittance.
    "Oh, that’s for members of the museum," she
said as she pulled him along. "Apparently they get special
treatment and don't have to wait in line."
    Michael jerked her hand and pulled her to a
stop. Melanie turned to him and gave him a look that simply said,
"What?"
    "Come on, Dancy Girl," he said as he turned
about and led her to the far left front doors. She followed
willingly, and for once, she was wide-eyed.
    "Michael Angel," he said to the attendant
just inside the door. The man took a moment to look at a computer
tablet and then nodded his head.
    "Welcome, Mr. Angel," he said, and handed
Michael a couple of tickets. "These are for complementary glasses
of wine for you and your guest. Enjoy the evening."
    "Absolutely," Michael replied.
    Michael had to admit he felt good. Sure, he
was a member of the museum, but all that usually got him was
admittance without standing in line to buy tickets and a reminder
each year to renew his membership. What he had just experienced was
like being a VIP to a swanky party. He chuckled as he thought about
it; apparently, he was a VIP to a swanky party.
    Melanie was pleased and quickly took the
tickets.
    "That was neat," she said. "Let's go get our
wine. Oh, you have to get a wristband first. That's so people over
twenty-one can be identified easily; no wrist band and a glass of
wine in your hand is a bad thing."
    Michael understood and let Melanie drag him
over to the makeshift bar. They got their wristbands, and she then
set her mind to getting some wine.
    "Michael Angel," a voice called out to him,
and the two of them had to stop.
    Michael looked at the middle-aged man that
was approaching. The gentleman was beyond middle age, was going
grey, had a well-trimmed beard, and dressed for the evening in a
suit; he stood out in this crowd more than Michael did, and it took
a minute for the Angel to place the man.
    "Allen," he said as he finally made the
connection and extended his hand.
    Allen took it warmly. "I didn't expect you
here tonight. I wouldn't think the Rave was really your style."
    "It's not," Melanie piped up. "It's
mine."
    "Ah," Michael said as he turned to introduce
his date. "Allen this is Melanie Price. Melanie this is Allen
Perkins. He's one of the curators."
    "Pleased to meet you," Allen said as he shook
her hand. "Any friend of an Angel is a friend of mine," he
joked.
    "Ooh, I'll have to remember that one," she
replied. Michael just rolled his eyes at the comment.
    "Are your brothers going to be here tonight?"
Allen asked.
    Michael laughed. "What do you think?" he
asked in return, and