Page 105 of Marcello

“Well, come on in anyways and have a good time!”

“Thanks,” I said as I walked through.

“Grab a mask on your way in,” he mentioned casually as he rehooked the velvet rope.

I stopped in surprise. “What?”

“A mask. It’s a masquerade, dude.”

Oh God.

Oh well. I was already here – might as well go see the view.

I strolled through the arched door and into a tunnel-like stone hall. On my right were tables filled with masks. Venetian Carnival ones with blank white faces, animal-style masks, ones with feathers, ones with rhinestones, BDSM-inspired ones – anything you wanted.

I reluctantly picked up a Zorro-style mask. After I tied it on, I walked up a series of stone steps at the end of the tunnel.

The closer I got to the top, the louder the music became, until I could feel the bass vibrating the air in my lungs.

When I emerged onto the ramparts of the castle, I stopped in shock.

I’d been expecting a bunch of people grinding on a dance floor –

But instead, I saw something entirely different.

There were six-foot-tall ice sculptures everywhere – dozens of them – and they were illuminated by colored lights. Dolphins leaping from ocean waves, lit up blue and green. Phoenixes bursting into icy flames tinted red and yellow. An angel in robes with widespread wings of blazing white. The sculptures were slowly melting in the nighttime air, but that just made them glint all the more spectacularly.

There was dry ice, too. Mist boiled out of iron pots and covered the ramparts in a fog that obscured everything below my knees. Lasers set at ground level lit up the fog in beautiful patterns before shooting up into space.

I had to admit, I’d come in jaded – but the ice sculptures and artistic touches won me over immediately.

Too bad the rest of it was more like a regular club.

I noticed that the place was packed with women at almost a five-to-one ratio to the men. I guess for his birthday, the billionaire wanted to go shooting fish in a barrel.

The women wore the skimpiest masks available to show off as much of their faces as possible. They were the crème-de-la-crème of what I’d seen outside in line: models. Plastic-surgery queens. Gold diggers in designer dresses.

Not interested.

The other men were, though. They tended to either be older dudes in expensive suits, or young guys who were probably Instagram fitness models. Whether old or young, they all wore more concealing masks – and they were constantly hitting on every woman they saw.

Liquor stations with bartenders were positioned everywhere. The way the crowds were packed three-deep around them suggested the booze was probably free. I skipped the alcohol and walked over to the rampart walls instead.

The view of Naples was stunning. It was a vantage point I’d never seen before – over the water, but hundreds of feet up. The entire city sparkled, from the harbor lights to the furthest hills.

From this far away, Naples looked clean and beautiful and full of hope… so unlike what I was used to.

I stood there staring in wonder for several minutes. Once I got used to it, though, I decided I’d had enough. I had no interest in drinking, dancing, or getting laid, so I turned to go back down the steps –

When I stopped dead in my tracks.

I heard a story that when Matthew McConaughey first saw the woman who would later become his wife, he didn’t say, Who is that?

No.

He said, WHAT is THAT?!

That’s exactly the reaction I had.