Chapter 45
Robin’s Beginning
A few months earlier…
A medium-height, curvy white French woman with pure white hair stepped out of a cab. She had striking light green eyes with long black lashes. Her resemblance to Marilyn Monroe suggests that she is trying to dress above her social station, but failing because it is obvious. Her name is Robin “Kitten” Rénard and her stage name is Robin Fox. She is a twenty-four-year-old former dancer and now seeking men with wealth. She had just left Percy and had to start over with nothing.
Robin got out of the taxi, mascara streaked down her cheeks, her eyes red and glassy from crying so much. She had to get out. It was her last dollar. She could not face Percy after she screwed this up. She paid the taxi driver and slammed the door. She embraced herself and clutched her purse close as she walked through a dark alley in Little Tokyo. She thought she would return to her old job at Midnight Foxes, in the hopes of scoring another old rich loser willing to have her on his arm. She will make that ugly fuck pay for what he did to her.
She saw two men in the alley ahead of her. One of them had his cock out pissing on the wall. How gross, she thought. The other man was leaning against the wall, his head turned away from his friend taking a piss. It was dark, so she could not see their facial features clearly. Just walk by calmly and ignore the creeps, she told herself.
As she drew closer, the one pissing in the alley placed his penis back in his pants and zipped them up. He was a white man with a tanned complexion and a large nose that nearly covering most of his oval-shaped face. He had a brown cowboy hat on his completely shaved head, icy blue eyes, and a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. It looked pasted on his wet plump lips. He stood about five feet eight inches tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He was dressed in a white tank top, a brown leather western jacket, bleached jeans, and black cowboy boots with spurs on his heels.
His friend leaning on the brick wall was a tall, lean black man with a caramel complexion. He had a thin, gaunt face and chevron mustache that stood out. His thick, rich long black curly hair tied back into a low ponytail. He wore a black biker leather jacket rolled up to his elbows, black fingerless gloves on his hands, black leather with four zipper pockets on each side of his legs, and pointed leather boots with buckles on them.
The two men saw Robin approaching them. The white man stood erect, raising his shoulders. When Robin was close, the white man whipped out his balisong, shoving it inches away from her face.
White man: “Hey, pretty lady! Nice night, isn’t it? If you give me all your money, then we can do this nice ‘n easy.”
He drawled in a thick Texan accent. The black man stood two feet away from his friend.
Black man: “Give it up, sweetheart. We ain’t bullshittin’.”
He remarked in a Louisianan Creole accent. Robin rolled her eyes, her feet braced apart.
Robin: “Are you two serious?”
The white man, shocked by her unexpected response, widened his eyes and his jaw dropped. He quickly shook his head and snapped out of his daze.
White man: “Don’t fucking dick around, sister! Give me your fucking money or I’ll cut that pretty lil’ face of yours! Don’t want that, do we?”
He barked. Robin folded her arms over her bosom, accentuating her cleavage. The white man gazed at her breasts.
Robin: “Do I look like I have money?”
She challenged them. The black man shot his forefinger at her purse.
Black man: “Your purse! Give us it now!”
He angrily demanded. Robin was growing annoyed. She opened the flap on her purse and dumped the contents on the ground. The blond man told his friend to keep an eye on her while he searched the contents. He held his knife up to Robin while going through them. It was perfume, make-up, pepper spray, and a book of phone numbers.
White man: “SHIT! She’s right! She has nothing!”
He stood up still holding the knife in her face.
White man: “S-So now what!?”
He trembled, uncertain of what move to make. Robin smiled.
Robin: “You two want money?”
A sinister smile curled on her lips once she saw their faces light up.
Robin: “Put the knife down and do as I say.”
She gently placed her hand on the white man’s hand holding the knife and lowered it. He felt flush.
~
A tiny slip of an Asian woman with jet-black hair sauntered out on the front steps of a sprawling yellow Victorian manor with several white columns on the front of the manor. She wore a baby pink ball gown. She sat on the steps sobbing, hugging her knees, burying her face into them.
Her sobs slowly subsided. Suddenly, a beat-up blue Chevrolet Citation pulled up to the curb and two masked men got out of the vehicle. When she saw them dashing to her, she felt a knot form in her stomach and her fear growing. Before she could act, the two men seized her, wrapping duct tape around her wrists, and over her mouth. She let out a loud moan. One of the men slapped her.
Man: “Shut the fuck up, bitch! You’re coming with us!”
He angrily demanded. The two dragged the woman to the car, threw open the door, and tossed her inside. They then entered the car and sped off out of sight.
A video was sent to her future in-laws, which were the Donovans. She was the fiancée of Seymour Donovan III, the son of Seymour Donovan II. The Donovans were another rich family in Pink Top City, with Seymour Sr. owning the Pink Flamingo Mall.
Seymour was a white Irish-American man who stood at five feet and ten inches. He had a pale complexion and short orange hair. He had a bulbous nose taking up most of his face, droopy gray eyes, and a pronounced overbite. He wore a gray wool sweater over a white pressed shirt, black tie, brown pants, and brown leather shoes. He watched the video they sent.
Masked man: “See this bitch! Want this bitch alive, do you?! Then give us some fuckin’ money! If you don’t want to see this bitch dumped in a riverbank, we want two million dollars in a sack by the oak tree in Pinkwood Hill Cemetery in one hour!”
He pressed the knife on the woman’s neck. Her cries and whimpers grew louder and tears streaked her face.
~
An hour later, Seymour crept into the cemetery with the burlap sack containing the two million dollars. He approached the oak tree and dropped it there, waiting for the men to come and deliver his fiancée.
Fifteen minutes later, the same beat-up Chevy pulled up to the gates of the cemetery. The two men entered and saw Seymour by the tree. They approached him and demanded their money. Seymour handed the sack to them, which they opened examining the contents, and gave each other a nod. They took the sack back to their car, tossed someone out, and drove off.
Seymour dashed over to his fiancée and untied her. She wailed loudly and wrapped her arms around Seymour.
~
Robin was in the same room where Seymour’s fiancée was held wearing only her bra and panties. She rolled around the money laughing and squealed with joy.
Robin: “Look at all this money! That stupid fuck paid this for that dippy airhead!”
The blond man leaned over, cupping one of Robin’s breasts, circling his thumb around her nipple. She jerked away and smacked his hand.
Robin: “Hands off, piggy! You have to earn that!”
White man: “Earn it?”
He echoed. He placed his hand on her inner thigh, rubbed it, and slid his hand over the border of her panties. Robin trembled all over.
Robin: “That’s right.”
White man: “But you were Jonesy’s mistress, right?”
Robin: “He had money. Who said I enjoyed his sex?”
The black man’s thin eyebrows rose.
Black man: “You were Jonesy’s mistress?”
He asked incredulously. Robin smiled and narrowed her eyes.
Robin: “Yes and the old bastard never left me a dime.”
She said bitterly.
She then relaxed her expression.
Robin: “I like you two. If you two work for me, we could make more money.”
She smiled mischievously. The two brightened when she said that.
Robin: “I’m Robin Fox.”
Oscar: “Oscar… Oscar Lavolier.”
Gabriel: “Gabriel Bernard at your service, …Mistress.”
Robin liked the term “mistress.” It meant this time she was in charge and she did not have to adhere to anyone like Jonesy or Percy. She rose from the pile of money and placed her hands on their shoulders.
~
Present Day…
A new nightclub opened in Pink Top City located in the Little Tokyo district. It was on 405 Ginza Street.
The club’s name was “Foxy Robin’s.” Robin bought this establishment with the ransom money. The exterior was a nondescript building on a busy street. A heavy black door faced the street and when the club was open, velvet ropes were placed in front of the entrance while a burly bouncer checked IDs and allowed people to enter. Neighboring the club was a Winnebago where Gabriel and Oscar lived with their brown Great Dane, Moose.
Robin strolled up to it with Ashlee—her gray British Shorthair—in her purse, Oscar and Gabriel following her.
Gabriel: “This is mighty impressive, Mistress!”
Gabriel let out a loud whistle.
~
Fabien was in the kitchen making dinner. He wore a black Nuklear Intoxikation T-shirt over a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. He had some stubble on his face from not shaving for a few days. Craig grinned at him and whistled.
Craig: “Goin for the ruggedly handsome look, ey?”
He purred.
Fabien: “Nah, just lazy.”
He chuckled.
Craig: “Haha, fair.”
He nodded, understanding.
Upon his return home, Craig bought Fabien a deep fryer. After Fabien marinated the butterflied chicken breasts overnight in the buttermilk, beaten eggs, and hot sauce mixture, he rolled them in the breading mixture he had made. This mixture consisted of flour, cornstarch, salt, Cajun seasoning, black pepper, paprika, cayenne pepper powder, onion powder, and garlic powder. He rested the chicken breasts on a wire rack and made the burger sauce. It had mayonnaise, hot sauce, Cajun seasoning, and garlic powder.
He also has onion rings in a mixture of buttermilk and hot sauce. He mixed a bowl of flour with seasoned salt, seafood seasoning, onion powder, garlic powder, smoked paprika, and ground cumin. He separated some of the flour mixture, opened a can of beer, and poured it into the other bowl of flour. He mixed it up. He dipped each ring into the dry flour mixture and then into the beer mixture before he deep-fried them.
He had a dipping sauce for the onion rings he made in the blender with mayonnaise, chili sauce, green onion, roasted red pepper, garlic, lemon juice, Cajun seasoning, and prepared horseradish.
He put the burger sauce on the chicken burgers, along with lots of pickles and beer-battered onion rings, and set the plate in front of Craig. Craig eyed the pickles and burger hungrily until they were snatched away.
Craig: “OI! What gives?!’
He huffed, looking around for the culprit. Celeste sat by him munching on his burger and onion rings. She wore an off-shoulder Slayer shirt, jean shirt, purple tights, and black buckle boots.
Craig: “OI! Get your own damn pickles!”
He pouted, grabbing more of them. She grabbed them from him and gulped them.
Fabien: “Hey, Celeste, what are you doing here? Did Deimos and Tristan kick you out?”
He asked playfully.
Celeste: “That’s not Deimos! That’s an imposter! This is Deimos!”
She pointed to the fat man with Tristan in the bar lounge. Fabien chuckled. Craig burst out laughing.
Craig: “Shit, Deimos let himself go!”
He slapped his knees.
Fabien: “Yeah, that fast one Tristan pulled on the other Maxx.”
He rolled his eyes.
Celeste: “Fabien, I am THIS close to getting you, Tristan, and Victor the ‘Celeste Treatment’ at the spa! Also, did you know someone pulled the fire drill after you and Craig fucked because of Craig’s foot stink? They thought some animal died.”
She drawled. Fabien recalled that but didn’t know if one of Jaxon’s friends did that or if there was a fire. Craig's jaw dropped.
Craig: “WHAT?! My feet don't fucking stink! No one pulled the fire alarm on me! It was probably that Maxx cunt or they pulled it on him?!”
He snapped.
Gus: “Nah, your feet stink like Hell after you fuck Fabien.”
He grinned. Fabien groaned and didn’t disagree. He dished up Craig more burgers and onion rings. Craig pouted.
The phone in the kitchen rang. He went to pick it up.
Fabien: “Hello?”
He paused.
Fabien: “Désolé! Comment vas-tu?”
His chipper expression darkened.
Fabien: “D’accord. Merci de me l’avoir dit. Adieu.”
He cradled the receiver and sighed. He went into the kitchen and sat with Craig.
Fabien: “My parents are coming over.”
He told Craig. Craig gaped at him.
Craig: “Your parents?”
He looked bewildered.
Craig: “I didn’t know you had those?”
He laughed. Fabien gaped at Craig as if he had three heads.
Fabien: “Do you think I came from a test tube?”
He asked sharply.
Craig: “No, you just never mentioned 'em much ‘n I never saw them before is all.”
He shrugged.
Fabien: “I mentioned my father to you. He put me in law school and always compared me to Tristan.”
He said in a low voice and hung his head.
Fabien: “We haven’t spoken since I got expelled from law school.”
He added.
Fabien: “I don’t know why he’s coming here. He’s not here to see me. Probably here to see Tristan.”
He folded his arms and looked away.
Craig: “Why would he want to see Tristan?! Wait… are you related?!”
He asked, shocked. Fabien vigorously shook his head.
Fabien: “Fuck no. Just that Father knows his grandmother, Honorine, well. He thought Tristan was soooo perfect.”
He said with bitterness. Craig scoffed.
Craig: “More like sooooo boring and lame. He ain’t perfect.”
He rolled his eyes.
Celeste: “I think you’re both sexy and smart! And you both have sexy, soft feet!”
She beamed. Craig scoffed.
Craig: “Nah, Fab is sexier ‘n smarter with softer feet!”
He said putting his arm around Fabien. Fabien giggled.
Celeste: “You got your own skills! Tristan is good at uncovering people but so is Fabien! They just do it differently is all. And Fabien is a better cook than Lazaros!”
She said genially. Fabien’s smile lit up the room for her to tell him he was better than a professional chef.
Craig: “Fuckin’ oath he’s better than that fatty-lover!”
He scoffed.
Fabien: “I better shave my face. I don’t want to give my father something else to bitch about.”
He said acidly and went into his and Craig’s bathroom.
Craig: “Fuck him, I’ll give him somethin’ to bitch about!”
He huffed.
Celeste: “I know. Unless he’s like Gus and loves foot stink.”
She looked at Gus inhaling Craig’s gym sneakers. Craig pouted and growled.
~
Tristan, Deimos, and Makayla were on Deimos’ backyard pool patio. Tristan wore a black waistcoat, black pants, a lilac pressed shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a dark purple tie, and black sheer socks on his feet. Deimos wore a Kreator tank top, bleached jeans with torn knees, and was barefoot. He and Tristan were on the plush patio swing with Deimos massaging Tristan’s feet. Makayla sat on the chair across from them and wore a denim jacket, a white tank top, and a denim skirt.
Deimos: “So I went into Dad’s study to look into his Greek-to-English dictionaries, and I think I settled on a cool name for our band.”
He cleared his throat.
Deimos: “Sparaktikós.”
He wrote it on a scrap of paper to show Tristan and Makayla.
Tristan: “What does that mean?”
Deimos: “Heartbreakers.”
Tristan quirked an eyebrow.
Tristan: “How does this apply to you or Makayla?”
He laughed awkwardly.
Deimos: “More Makayla than me. I’m in a loving relationship while Lazaros shat on her and she pines for Ashley.”
Makayla frowned.
Makayla: “That’s accurate, Deimos.”
She sighed, folding her arms across her chest. Deimos placed the paper on the table.
Deimos: “So it’s settled. Sparaktikós. Who should design our logo?”
Tristan: “Ivy?”
Deimos grimaced. Makayla gaped at him.
Makayla: “Ivy?!”
She frowned thinking of her modelling in that magazine with Ashley.
Deimos: “I think she hates me.”
Tristan smiled and shook his head.
Tristan: “She doesn’t hate you, Deimos. I thought you two parted amicably.”
Deimos: “Debatable.”
He grumbled. Tristan cleared his throat.
Tristan: “Regardless, she does excellent work and designed for Felipa’s bikini shop. Set your feelings aside and keep it professional.”
He said genially.
Monica came in and cleared her throat.
Monica: “Tristan, Fabien is here to see you, sir.”
Tristan gaped at her.
Tristan: “Why, did Jaxon die?”
He asked archly.
Fabien came in with Craig and Celeste followed.
Fabien: “Here to drop off your pet cat who steals Craig’s food.”
He huffed.
Celeste: “Oh no, Tristan is cheating on Deimos with a handsome Greek guy!”
She cupped her cheeks. Craig burst out laughing. Deimos pouted and folded his arms over his chest. Tristan rubbed his temples and sighed.
Tristan: “You know what? I think I regret what I did to expose Jaxon. She never stopped with that stupid joke.”
He said sharply.
Craig: “It ain’t a joke, its the truth!”
Fabien: “She can eat your food, Makayla. You could lose a ton or two.”
Makayla glared at him and went to speak when Celeste tickled Fabien’s tummy.
Celeste: “Bad!”
Fabien burst out laughing.
Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Makayla pouted and glared at Fabien.
Makayla: “Don’t reward him.”
Fabien gasped for air when she stopped.
Tristan: “Celeste could have come on her own. What do you want?”
Fabien cleared his throat.
Fabien: “My parents are coming to town. I think Father wants to see you.”
He said firmly and bitterly.
Tristan: “Why would Basile want to see me?”
He eyed him quizzically.
Fabien: “To see how great you are and how much I failed him!”
He fielded scathingly. Craig put his hand on his shoulder.
Craig: “He ain’t as great as you!”
He assured Fabien. Fabien smiled at Craig. Deimos glowered at the two.
Deimos: “Don’t talk to my man this way. It’s not his fault your father also favors other people.”
He hissed.
Deimos: “And Tristan is better besides!”
He added triumphantly. Craig scoffed.
Craig: “PFFT, fuck off, imposter Deimos, Fab is better!”
Deimos narrowed his eyes into dark slits at Craig.
Deimos: “Didn’t someone pull the fire alarm because your feet stank so bad?”
He challenged.
Craig: “NO, THEY DIDN’T!”
He snapped. Tristan was starting to get a headache. He put his hands up.
Tristan: “Guys, enough. This isn’t a competition.”
He said wearily.
Tristan turned to Fabien and blew air through his parted lips.
Tristan: “Fabien, I don’t believe your father is here to see me. It’s a hunch I have. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.”
He said firmly. Fabien clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.
Fabien: “You think he’s here to see me and make amends?”
He scoffed. Tristan shook his head.
Tristan: “No, I know what he’s like and I don’t believe that at all.”
He cupped his mouth.
Fabien noticed a piece of paper on the table and picked it up.
Fabien: “Sparaktikós?”
Deimos nodded. Craig scoffed.
Craig: “I think you spelled ‘sparkles’ wrong!”
He laughed at them. Makayla rolled her eyes at him.
Makayla: “It’s our band.”
Craig froze.
Deimos: “Yes, it’s Makayla’s and my band.”
He smiled. Makayla locked her spiteful glare on him and smirked as she watched the laughter die on Craig’s lips and his expression shrivel up and sour.
Fabien: “What does it mean?”
Deimos: “It’s Greek for ‘Heartbreakers’ ‘cause Lazaros shat on Makayla and it’s not working out for her and Ashley.”
He explained. Craig scoffed and pouted, folding his arms across his chest.
Fabien: “I don’t know, Makayla’s not nearly as fat as that thing and that’s a blob who changes his or her pronouns daily and probably amid a conversation.”
He laughed. Tristan rolled his eyes. Makayla glared at Fabien hatefully, shooting up from her seat.
Makayla: “Shut the fuck up, you bigot!”
Fabien: “Why would anyone want that? Even Celeste doesn’t want that. She wants Tristan, me, and his cry baby father.”
He scoffed. Makayla went to charge at him when Celeste tickled Fabien’s tummy. He laughed and wrenched away.
Fabien: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Makayla gaped at Celeste.
Makayla: “Stop rewarding his bad behavior!”
Celeste: “I’m not! I tickle his tummy when he’s bad!”
She gaped at her owlishly.
She threw her arms up in frustration.
Celeste: “Wait until he gets the Celeste Treatment at the spa!”
She smiled at him.
Celeste: “When they listen to me.”
She darkened. Makayla pouted and folded her arms across her chest.
Makayla: “You’re enabling him.”
Craig grabbed Fabien’s ankles, slipped off his flip-flops, and tickled his feet. Fabien howled with laughter and thrashed around when Craig tickled his feet.
Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!”
Craig: “No, he’s being a good boy and good boys deserve treats! Good Fab!”
He cooed at him like a beloved pet. Makayla glared at them both.
Lazaros entered and laughed. Craig stopped tickling Fabien and he gasped for air. Before he could reply, Fabien laughed at him wearing a sequin purple suit.
Fabien: “LOOK! The glitter cupcake arrived! He dresses like this to attract fatties! Too bad, the genderless blob loves him and not you, huh, Makayla?”
He pretended to feel sad. Craig burst out laughing. Makayla glared hatefully at them.
Lazaros: “That’s right, Ashley is crazy about me and my food.”
Makayla: “Only because you’re manipulating them.”
Craig: “NO! It’s ‘cause it thinks he’s a cupcake ‘n its only cos you have food!”
Lazaros: “Yes, and it’s good!”
He smiled tightly.
Craig: “Nah, Fab’s food is better than yours.”
Lazaros: “As if I would listen to a bogan who would eat dog food.”
He flicked his fingers.
Craig: “BOGAN?! DOG FOOD?! Fuck off! I don’t eat fuckin’ dog food, cunt!”
He rasped.
Deimos rolled his eyes.
Deimos: “What do you want, Lazaros?”
He huffed.
Lazaros: “Did you see Ashley in Felipa’s Bikini Shop catalog? Aren’t they a treat?”
Makayla looked away and pouted.
Makayla: “Cut it out, Lazaros. You’re full of shit. They’re a treat that you don’t deserve.”
Fabien: “Yes, she’s or he’s a high-calorie treat.”
He quipped. Craig cackled. Makayla glared at them.
Deimos: “The only one who knows and cares is Makayla. No one else does.”
Celeste: “I’d read if Tristan, Victor, and Fabien modeled.”
She smiled.
Craig: “Pfft, fuck the other two, just Fab!”
Tristan: “No, the sun and me don’t get along.”
He groaned, thinking of how easily he burns. Craig scoffed and laughed at him.
Deimos: “I wish the sun would melt Craig’s brain… Oh, he doesn’t have one, never mind.”
He growled. Tristan chuckled.
Lazaros: “Whatever, she has terrible taste, so I made dinner for you, Deimos.”
He smiled.
Celeste: “I already ate at Fabien’s.”
Lazaros: “Did you enjoy your trash?”
Celeste: “No, his food is damn good and better than yours! Fabien makes real food and not this hoity-toity stuff!”
Craig: “Fuckin’ oath! Ya better keep ya lil fatty away or it will bum around our kitchen instead!”
He said to Lazaros.
Lazaros nodded and started to cry.
Lazaros: “It’s amazing how much I do for you, Deimos, but your friends agree that little Danny Donger’s boy makes better food than I do.”
He choked. Deimos rolled his eyes.
Deimos: “So what, Lazaros? Ashley worships you. That should be enough. So what if Celeste loves Fabien’s food more? She crushes on him as well as Tristan and Victor. Of course, she will. It’s how Ashley views you.”
He flared hotly.
Craig: “How’s it like that? Does she view ‘em as cupcakes, too?!”
He laughed.
Celeste: “No, I view them as hot guys! Ashley makes yummy cupcakes, though!”
Craig: “Pfft, how’d you know if they’re yummy if that lil fatty eats ‘em all?”
Celeste looked away, trying not to laugh.
Fabien: “Ashley’s girth is equivalent to 100 people, so you essentially have 100 people worshipping you, Lazaros.”
He snorted. Craig threw his head back and burst out laughing.
Tristan: “Sometimes I admire you, Fabien. You have the patience of Job. How do you deal with the sheer stupidity of Craig and not want to pull your hair out?”
He challenged.
Craig: “Wh-Wha?! HEY! I’m not stupid!”
Tristan: “Because I couldn’t help noticing how Fabien went to Jaxon. Do you think I am unaware of how frustrated he is with you? And how will he support you during this time when your parents come back?”
He added. Craig shifted in his seat uncomfortably, shifting his eyes.
Craig: “You SHUT UP, Mr. Perfect Ice dick! His parents sound like dickheads if they’re here to see you instead of him!”
He fired back at him. Makayla shook her head at Craig.
Makayla: “You can dish it, but you can’t take it.”
Tristan: “They’re not here to see me. Nevertheless, can’t you see that Fabien needs your support? He’s going to need more than ‘fuckin’ oath! You’re the best, Fab!’ ”
He fired at Craig. Deimos raised his eyebrows. He knew Tristan was echoing Craig but it was rare for him to swear. Fabien looked away.
Tristan: “Fabien will grow tired of your utter stupidity and lack of motivation eventually, Craig. He went with Jaxon. If he was content with you, he wouldn’t have done that.”
He pinned him with a half-lidded state. Craig’s lip trembled and he rose from the couch, putting on his ray-ban sunglasses.
Craig: “Well, I’m gonna go hit the gym.”
He trembled. Fabien drew a long breath. Tristan smiled smugly at him. Craig glared at him.
Craig: “What are ya smilin’ about ice dick?!”
He huffed.
Tristan: “Nothing, Craig. You can’t handle the truth is all. That’s a you problem.”
He shrugged. Craig glared at Tristan and stormed out. Fabien hung his head and shook it.
Lazaros rose and smiled.
Lazaros: “You are something, Tristan.”
Tristan: “What, you want to have a go at me?”
He flared.
Lazaros: “No. I couldn’t care less. He insulted my kitten and you are right. Ashley and me? We have a good thing going.”
He smiled. Tristan gazed at him. If you don’t cross me, you’d be correct, he thought. Makayla glared at Lazaros.
Makayla: “Your kitten?! Oh, please.”
Lazaros: “Well, if Deimos doesn’t want my dinner, I know my smitten kitten will. Good night all. Good luck, Fabien.”
He bowed and left. Makayla twisted her mouth and poked her tongue out.
Fabien heaved a deep sigh.
Tristan: “I don’t think your parents are here to see me, Fabien.”
Fabien: “Craig needs to blow off steam. I know he’s ill-equipped to help me with this!”
He said as his voice cracked. Tristan gazed at him. Celeste put her hand on Fabien’s leg.
Tristan: “I think this is dire, though.”
Fabien drew another breath.
Fabien: “Why?”
Tristan: “Why would he come here? He would have called me if he specifically wanted to see me. Isn’t he retired from being a lawyer?”
Fabien pursed his lips and nodded.
Fabien: “Yeah.”
Tristan cupped his chin.
Tristan: “Makayla, is there anything going on around here that would attract a veteran attorney or any events? You’re up on parties and clubs. I never pinned Basile as someone who attends parties but you never know.”
Makayla: “Well, there’s the Torturgazm tour, maybe he’s Vivienne Vivacious’ lawyer or something?”
She shrugged.
Tristan: “I doubt it. Basile detests metal.”
Deimos: “What about wine tasting?”
Tristan quirked an eyebrow.
Tristan: “Why would he travel all the way here for that?”
Deimos: “We do have some nice wines from this city.”
Tristan: “I agree but Basile likes only French wine, so I doubt it. Basile is more narrow-minded than my grandmother.”
Fabien raised his eyebrows.
Fabien: “That’s an understatement.”
He muttered.
Celeste: “Guys, can we go to a movie or something?”
She asked. Tristan, Deimos, and Fabien gaped at her.
Tristan: “As long as it’s not horror.”
Fabien: “Second that. Hate horror.”
He shuddered.
Makayla: “How about a night on the town? There’s this new club opening tonight called ‘Foxy Robin’s’!”
She suggested.
Tristan: “Why on Reona do you want to go to a club?”
He laughed awkwardly.
Makayla: “To drink? Dance? Party? Have fun?”
She beamed. I need to blow off some steam, she thought to herself.
Fabien: “I’m down!”
He nodded. Makayla gaped at him.
Fabien: “I need a freaking drink.”
Makayla: “Me too.”
She twisted her mouth.
Tristan: “I had a hunch you would, Makayla.”
He eyed her empathetically.
Deimos: “We should get a cab. None of our cars will fit that many people and that big idiot is out having a cry.”
He huffed.
Tristan: “I concur.”
He nodded and rose.
Celeste: “Let’s paint the town red!”
She announced.
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