Secret Guild Nightclub, Lower East Side, Manhattan, Thursday Night Fandom Time (NFB)
Dr. Girlfriend
Sheila was still a New Yorker at heart. You could take the girl out of Brooklyn, but you couldn't take the Brooklyn out of the girl. Or out of her voice, either, but at least her accent didn't seem so out of place in Manhattan.
She wasn't in her favorite borough tonight, but Manhattan was a close second, and it had plenty going for it. Like, for example, the exclusive Guild-only nightclub in the sub-basement of a particular building in the Lower East Side. The best part about Guild clubs was that no one gawked over celebrities. Not that she had to worry about it, but it was hard for some of the more famous Guild members to go out in public without being bothered. Like, for example, the man she was meeting tonight.
She found her friend's booth easily enough, and was pleased to note the vodka tonic sitting next to his own club soda.
"David," she said, greeting him with a warm kiss on the cheek. "Thank you so much for the invitation. I've been needing a change in scenery."
David Motherfucking Bowie
"You're the one who had to hop a plane, love," replied David Bowie, Living Rock God. "The least I could do was buy the drinks. You look well."
David Motherfucking Bowie had given up drinking himself, a few years back, but he never minded buying drinks for old friends. And it would be a shame for Sheila to deprive herself of the excellent vodka he happened to know the club stocked.
Dr. Girlfriend
"I look jetlagged," Dr. Girlfriend countered, shaking her head. "My hair's a mess. And my love life is an even bigger disaster."
The vodka tonic was smooth going down. He must have paid for the expensive stuff. It wasn't as though he couldn't afford it.
"How's Iman?"
David Motherfucking Bowie
"She's well," David Fucking Bowie said, smiling at always at the mention of his wife. "In London on business for a few days, but she sends her regards."
He watched her face thoughtfully as he added, "I heard things with the butterfly went south."
Dr. Girlfriend
"I'm better off," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "We broke up before that whole mess with the disappearing cop. He broke out of jail a few months ago, but I was back with Phantom Limb. But he's just the same as ever."
A controlling egomaniac. In her defense, her most recent ex was also an excellent lay.
David Motherfucking Bowie
"You shouldn't trust him," David Effing Bowie said, frowning at the new topic. "I'm sure you realize how highly ranked he is, in the Guild, but there are murmurs that he's planning some kind of a coup."
More headaches. Heavy was the head that wore the crown. Politics as usual.
Dr. Girlfriend
Sheila stared for several seconds before she took another sip from her vodka tonic. She hated that she'd been sleeping with Phantom Limb for several months now, and had to hear about this from someone who lived three time zones away.
"You don't think he could be that stupid, do you?" she asked. "The Sovereign wouldn't stand for it."
David Motherfucking Bowie
"I'm sure the Sovereign is taking care of it," David Bowie, The Actual Sovereign Himself, said. He was, in fact, putting plans in motion to deal with the traitor. Good to know Sheila was still loyal, and even better to know that Phantom Limb hadn't disclosed his identity to her.
It wasn't easy running a Guild and being a rock legend, but then, whoever wanted life to be easy?
"That isn't why I asked you here," he continued smoothly. "There's an assignment that's come up, love, and I thought of you."
Dr. Girlfriend
"An assignment?" Dr. Girlfriend asked, sitting up straighter. She knew David was somewhere near the top of the power structure of the Guild, but she'd never asked where. The identity of most high-ranking Guild officials was a closely guarded secret. "I'm not arching anyone right now. What sort of assignment?"
David Motherfucking Bowie
Sovereign David Bowie produced a folder for Sheila to peruse, filled with the write-up of the dimensional nexus the Guild had recently discovered. One frightfully close to the United States capital, but there didn't seem to be any malicious activity stemming from it. At least, none they had been able to discover.
Arrangements had been made; the Guild had discreetly purchased a shop located on the island. A shop in such a place could be a very useful thing to have.
Dr. Girlfriend
Sheila had any number of questions, ones that he seemed perfectly willing to answer. Questions about the safety of the nexus itself, as well as more practical concerns like how much contraband would be passing through the shop's doors on a weekly basis.
Finally, she glanced up at him and flipped the folder shut. "Why me?"
David Motherfucking Bowie
"You're making a name for yourself among the Guild elite," he said, perfectly honestly. "We need someone we can trust for this. And you said yourself you could use a change in scenery."
He doubted she had meant a small town in Maryland, but she'd said it nonetheless.
"Do well at this, and it might mean a promotion in your future," he said. "A significant one. I'd even pop down to visit when I could. What do you say?"
Dr. Girlfriend
She doubted she was really on any kind of fast track to the Guild's inner circle, but maybe it was true. Or maybe he was just saying it to butter her up, since he was asking her to move to Maryland and work retail.
So be it. She wasn't immune to flattery, and it wasn't like she had anything better to do. If it was too dull, she could always resign and fly back to California. Or New York. Or anywhere, really.
Best of all, none of her ex-boyfriends would bother her there.
She drained the last of her vodka tonic and lifted the glass as if in a toast. "Buy me another one of these, and you've got yourself a deal."
(Part 2 of 2! And yes, in canon, David Bowie (yes, THAT David Bowie) is both an old friend of Dr. Girlfriend's and also, the Sovereign of the entire Guild. How could I resist? NFI, NFB, OOC is love.)