Lords And Ladies (2.13)

Dante finishes up his meal, picking up the plate and washing it off in the sink.  He returns to his twin sister, kissing her on the cheek.

“I’m going to go see Tara,” says Dante, throwing in a tight hug.

“Cool.  If Dad calls I’ll just pretend to be you.”

“Thanks,” says Dante.  “I’ll see you later,” he says, as she kisses his cheek back.

***

A few minutes, an elevator ride to the bottom floor, a brisk walk, and the ascent of some backstage stairs later, Dante knocked on a door.

“Who is it?” says a deep, feminine voice.

“It’s Dante, Rocky.”

The voice chuckles at the pet name.  “Give me a moment, honey.”

“Take your time.”  Dante leans against the wall, whistling a jaunty little tune his mother taught him.  He can no longer remember the words, of course, just the ethereal, joyous ups and downs of the song.

Across from him is a framed poster on the wall. “THIS FRIDAY AT THE DRAGON’S DEN HOTEL,” reads the poster, in all caps.  “the alluring TARA harlow.” It continued down below, with Tara’s first name in letters taking up a whole fourth of the poster.  In between is a picture of Tara - or rather, Rocky - gazing seductively at the camera, in a sparkling strapless gown. her thick red-covered lips in the middle of blowing a kiss.  Her rich, dark complexion and deep ruby hair appear vividly against the poster’s background.

And, well, why shouldn’t they?  Ever since she had gotten the job as a lounge singer in a club located in one of the biggest, most impressive buildings in town, Lords Faust, Ilucis, and Lady Dragon had taken great pains to plaster Tara Harlow’s face all over town.  Her voice and looks had made her a icon.  She was the face of the Dragon tribe, a glorious figurehead Queen loved by the people, distracted them away from Lady Dragon  and the other nobles behind the curtain.  For those purposes, Tara was perfect.  She was a poor commoner from the Raven district.  She was an orphan.  She was a perfect example of old world racial boundaries slowly falling apart in the new world.  She was all of that, and more, and Dante felt unworthy to share the same building with her, let alone the same bed on occasion and definitely the same universe.

He felt that way about all of them, really.  As awful and horrid as the city was, it had produced some amazing, admirable women, and Dante was felt it was a miracle that five - well, six, counting Mindy - wanted him around.    The media exaggerated his exploits, as they often do, and that was somewhat tiring.  He was almost entirely certain  that if he had been poor, they wouldn’t want him; that’s at least what the little voice in his head kept telling them.    

Most men and women in the city had multiple relationships, anyway, or at least weren’t terribly against the idea of booty calls; while Isabella only had eyes for him, he knew Meb at least had a number of partners, and he knew none of them, feeling it wasn’t his business.  He wasn’t special, or even all that charming, not in his mind.  In fact, most of the women he had shown interest in in the past had politely turned him down, and that was fine.  What he did do, he felt, was try to do his best to keep them happy and loved, and they seemed to stay interested.  He seemed confident to most people, but the truth was he was scared, maybe more scared than anyone else in the city, that one day he’d wake up and they’d all have gotten bored and left him behind, and then what would he do?

Probably cry and eat a lot of ice cream for a while.

He hears the door click.  He turns his head, and see a single finger beckon him inside.  He glances around, clicks his heels together, and follows her in.

The inside of Tara’s dressing room is a bit wide for a single person, befitting the Hotel’s big star.  She sits a facing away from him, in another red dress sparkling like a polished jewel.  She fluffs her dark red hair, her eyes reflecting in the mirror.  

“Hey there, big boy.”  She winks, staring at herself in the mirror after and combing an errant strand of hair.   “Sorry about that, I...was practicing, after I’d gotten most of my make-up on...”  She glances sideways at a little pot on a nearby table.  A little green sprout grows out of it.  “I’m sorry, I know how it upsets you, but I thought I’d should be honest...”

Dante puts his hands in his pocket, and smiles a bit softly.  “Oh, um, that’s okay.  I appreciate that you were thinking of me, but I’m fine.”  He points at the plant.  “Cute little thing.  Did you...?”

She smiles.  “It wasn’t out of the seed this morning.”  She snaps her fingers for emphasis.

“...Wow.  You’re getting better, Rocky.”

“Thank you.  What brings you down here, anyway?”  She continues brushing her hair.  “I thought this was Isabella’s day?”

“Oh, no, that was yesterday.  She went to work already.  Early.  So I thought I’d come down and see you.”

“How is she?”

“Stressed, I think.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Dante walks up to her, pulling up a chair from the table in the center of the room and sitting next to her.  “So, enough about me and Isabella.  How’re you, lover?”  He takes her hand in one of his, gently squeezing it.

“Fantastic.  We’ve had some good shows.  You, uh...Gonna stick around, baby?”

“Can’t, today.  I’ve got a...meeting after I leave here, then work.”  He glances down at her feet, taking note of her equally sparkling red heels.   Tara’s feet had two modes:  Fancy and bare.

“Oh, drat.  I was hoping you’d stick around...I can’t really do anything right now.  We’re starting soon and I can’t mess up my make-up.”

“Damn.  I could give you a lapdance?”

“See, then I’d just be frustrated and annoyed throughout most of the performance.”

“Awww.”

“You could sit in my lap, though.”  Another wink.   Dante giggles a bit himself, quickly taking her advice and wrapping her arms around her neck.

“Hello, there,” he says.

“Hey,” she replies, and gives him a quick smooch.

***

Fifteen minutes later, she was standing up now, straightening out her dress and psyching herself up for the performance.  Dante sat in the chair by himself, watching her with one fist popped up against his chin.

“Maybe I’ll come visit you at the office, later?” she says, hopefully.  “If you’re not too busy.  I don’t think I have a night show this time...I believe it’s Taco Night.”

“Ah, right, right.  Well, maybe.  I’d like that.”

“I’d like it too.”  She lifts a foot and rubs it against his pant leg for a moment.  He smiles and stands; she hugs him, and they both kiss again, him breathing deeply of her flowery scent.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You can have the plant, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you.  On the bright side, at least I can catch a little bit of your show?  The start, anyway.”

“I’m glad...”  Another kiss.  “Have a good day, baby.”

“You too.”  He smiles at her as she backs out of the door, then picks up  the potted plant.

“What are you, little guy?” he says cheerfully, walking out the door.

***

Dante stands backstage, watching the start of Tara’s performance from behind.  He leans at the wall, listening to Tara’s velvet voice sing out a love song, enrapturing the audience like a siren goddess...

“Lord Ilucis, sir?” says the voice of one of the various gang mooks.  A woman.  He turns to her.

“Yes, miss?”

“My lord, you have a-...you have a plant.”

Dante glances down at the pot in his arms.

“I do, yes.  Isn’t it cute.”

“Yes you are, sir.”

“Hmm?”
“I mean, yes it is.  Lord Ilucis, you have a, um, phone call waiting in your apartment apparently.”

Dante sighs.  “Really?  From who?”

“Your wife, sir.”

“Oh.”  Dante shrugs helplessly.  “Right, I’ll go up there.”

“Would you like me to stroke your plant, sir?”

“...What?”

“Hold your plant.”

“Oh, no.  I’m taking it with me.”

“Oh.  ...Well, if you ever need me to take care of your plant, you can have my phone number?”

“I have a sister for that.”

“What?”

“My little sister does gardening, you see.”

“...Oh.  ...Oh.  Oh.”  The woman frowned.  “Oh.  Well, maybe just in case, I could stop by to check later?”

“Oh, I doubt that will be necessary.”

“...Maybe when no one is around...?”

“I have work, but my twin will be home.”

“Oh.  Does she like girls?”

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

“I mean, I don’t think she has a strong opinion about one gender over another.  We think they’re both pretty decent people.  Not that I’d sleep with a guy or anything, we just don’t feel it...Actually, you know what?  I have to go.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” says the lady gangster, now somewhat irritably shoving a piece of paper in his pocket.

“Catch you later!” he says politely, heading up the stairs to the VIP room.  A nervous looking gangster with a large overcoat and bowler hat passes him on the stairs, in a hurry.  He moves aside, watching him go.  He shrugs it off and reaches the top, where another gangster is guarding the door.

The man tips his hat.

“Lord Ilucis, hello-Is that a plant?”

“Why, yes it is.  I quite like it.”

“I quite like yours,” says the gangster.

“Oh, thank you.  It was a gift, you know.  I’m on my way upstairs...”

“I could hold that plant for you.”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.”

“I could hold it tight.  Real tight, but gentle.  Maybe stroke it a little when it’s lonely.”

“...Ah?  Well, I’m sure you could, but I hardly need the help.  My sister Beatrice?  She likes this sort of thing.”

The gangster pauses for a moment, deep in thought.  “...That don’t bother me.  She can join in.”

“Oh, no, no, I am quite sure she prefers it doing it on her own.”

“We all have kinks.”

“True, true.  I’m not sure it’s a kink, though?   I think she really just likes getting down in the dirt and planting things.”

“Planting, eh?  Well, you know, if you ever need any extra help with that plant, you can have my number...”

“Oh, no, no thank you.  That’s quite fine.”

“I insist,” he says, and shoves another piece of paper in Dante’s pocket.

“Oh, well.  Thank you.  I really must be going,” says Dante, quickly, walking to the elevator.  “Wife calling!”

The man winks at him.  Dante presses the elevator button, quite confused.

Dante leans against the wall, watching the number at the top of the elevator go up.  He sighs.

It stops abruptly.  A rather attractive but androgynous looking gangster walks in.  Xe smiles at Dante.

“My Lord,” xe says.  “How ar-do you have a plant?”

“Oh, yes, yes.  It’s quite small.”

Xe raises an eyebrow.  “Really?  Do you think it will get bigger?”

“Oh, much bigger.  Far bigger than this.  Pretty quickly, too.”

“I seeeeee.  Perhaps I could hold it for you.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“I could hold it for a really long time.  I could hold a lot of it.  Perhaps whisper to it sweetly.”

“I’m sure you could, but my sister will take care of that.”

“I could take care of her plants too.  I am an expert in all kinds.”

“Cool, cool.”

“All.  Kinds.”

“Wow.  But we’ll be fine.”
“Why don’t you take my number?”

“Oh, that’s no-Oh.  Okay.  I guess everyone’s just shoving things in my jacket today.”

The gangster wiggles xir eyebrows.

The elevator stops again.

Lady Paige steps in.

“Hello, dear,” says Lady Paige.

“Ma’am.”

“Call me Mom-Is that a plant?”

***

Dante steps out of the elevator at his apartment.   One of his daughters, Maria - the gyndroid who resembles him and his sisters the most - is waiting there for them.

“Father,” she says.  “I see you have a plant.  Perhaps I could-”

Dante hands it to her quickly.  “Give this to Beatrice.  She’s probably up in the greenhouse, at this time of day.”

“Yes, father.”

The gyndroid stands there.  Dante raises an eyebrow.

“You aren’t going.”

“Yes.”

Dante pauses for a few moments more.  “...Oh, right,” he says, and kisses her on the cheek.

“Thank you, father,” she says, before curtseying and leaving.

Dante hurries to the other room, where a very beleaguered Damien stands with the phone.  He looks up at Dante, a young and light skinned man of Greek descent with rippling muscles and a slicked back hair cut.

“Dante,” he says.

“Hey, brother,” says Dante, though he means it in an emotional way as opposed to a biological way.  They proceed to hug.

“Your wife,” says Damien afterwards, quite flatly.  Dante thanks him, taking the phone.

“Hello, this is Dante.”

“Hey, Dante!” says Mindy’s voice enthusiastically, but something seems...Off.  It’s a bit softer than usual.

“What’s up?”

“Not much, not much.  Things are great!” she says, with forced cheer.

“They don’t sound great.  Is something wrong?”

“Nope!”

“Oh, okay.”

An awkward phone silence ensues.  Dante, empathetic but confused and slightly exasperated, rolls his eyes.  “Mindy, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Well, I did have this...idea.  I was thinking, well...Maybe...I could live with you?” Her voice sounds...hopeful.  Soul crushingly so.

“Mindy...”

“Hey, haha, it’s not like you’re going to have to put up with me too much.  I mean.  I don’t expect either of us to become a house spouse or anything!  I just figure that it’d be easier!  You know.  We’d find out if things will work out.  Quicker.”

“I don’t know, Mindy.  That’s...Kind of a big step, and we only made up recently?  I don’t really know you well enough to live with you.  Plus there’s Damien, and Leo, and Carmin, and the robots...”

“I bet you’d hardly notice me!  And anyway, I can get a second job or something if I need to pay my way, duh.  Plus I’d have somewhere to bring dates back to that isn’t my parents’ place, which is always a plus.”

“Mindy...Is something wrong?”

“Nope!  Just seems like it’d be an entertaining idea, at least!  Hey, I bet we could have threesomes.  That seems fun.”

“It really sounds like something might be wrong.”

“Pfff, even if it was, you know I’d be able to handle it.  Possibly by burning it.”

“Mindy...”

“C’mon, hubby!”