Strangetown: Chapter Twenty-Six - part one
Warnings: language, sexual situations, an extreme close-up of someone vomiting
Chapter Twenty-Six
Part One
He knew what he was doing.
He could stop at any time.
Vidcund was in complete control of the situation.
Circe wasn't really seducing him, at least not in every sense of the word. Vidcund knew a lot about words and their meanings, and this wasn't strictly a seduction.
She was persuading him to sexually intimate with her, sure, but it didn't go beyond that. He wasn't getting drawn back into anything intimate in the other sense. He'd been down that road before, and he wasn't eager to let Circe crush his heart again. He had enough embarrassing teenage memories to last a lifetime as it was. Loki had insured that he'd never really live that whole thing down, by literally beating the piss out of him in front of the entire student body.
It wasn't hard to keep his head in the books after that incident. Not that he'd ever had any trouble doing that.
Now, here he was again, with Circe. Loki's cruelties were a distant memory, and he was practically dancing on his grave. There was a cruel side to Vidcund that hoped that whatever form Loki's consciousness had taken on after death, he was able to see him there, with his wife. That would really stew Loki's tomatoes, and that asshole really deserved it.
He wasn't getting too close to Circe. He was just filling a normal, physical need. Just a matter of basic biology, really. He wasn't going to fall in love with her again. He was just having a completely adult affair. No strings attached. Vidcund wasn't so sentimental that he couldn't do that, surely.
Yes, Vidcund could take it or leave it.
After this particular morning rendezvous, he quickly got to his feet and got dressed. He was on a deadline. Vidcund was scheduled to be a guest lecturer at La Fiesta Tech that morning, to present his research on African violets to the Biology program.
He had bought himself a new suit, already patched at the elbows in a scholarly fashion, to give him an air of importance.
"You look sharp, Vidcund," Circe said, as she reappeared from the wardrobe, fully dressed. "The blue sweater vest was a good choice."
"You were right."
"Are you surprised?" She stepped out into the hallway and picked up her son, who had been playing with some blocks by hurling them down the stairs one by one.
Vidcund didn't respond. He wasn't surprised, but he wasn't going to say so. He'd let Circe think he had something of a backbone.
"So when do you talk about your flowers?" Circe always had an air of belittlement in her voice when she talked about Vidcund's research, since it was no secret that she thought it was all rather trivial.
"They're not just flowers," Vidcund said.
"You know what I mean, Vidcund." She spoke curtly. She wasn't interested in hearing his defense. "Don't be so sensitive."
"Saintpaulia is a very complex plant, and the variety that grows in the mountains east of here is very rare and has some very interesting properties."
Circe sighed. It was best not to completely insult him, but she had no time for pretending that she was interested in the qualities of some stupid plant when there were more pressing subjects for research. Considering that Loki had been on his way to solving the riddles of death, among other things, the research of the Curious brothers seemed rather moot.
She would love to see Vidcund focus his obvious talent and intelligence on something a little more useful. All the talk of plants made her greatly question his sanity. Why would a grown man care about something so insignificant?
"Well, good luck with your presentation, Vidcund."
"Thank you."
"I hope you won't stutter as much as you used to when you were faced with a crowd like that."
Vidcund was hoping the same thing, but he'd practiced enough that it shouldn't be a problem. He knew that Circe was right in suggesting that, but he hated being boxed into his behaviour from the past. "Oh, please... I'm not some quivering teen anymore, Circe. And I've come a long way since my own college years. I'm slightly older, in case you haven't noticed."
"Yes, we're all getting older, Vidcund. Didn't your sister just reach her elder transition?" She kept her voice even, to steer him away from letting his temper get the better of him. She could always tell when he was getting irate, and his crankiness was another thing that she had no time for dealing with right now. It seemed to work.
"That's right. I can hardly believe that Jenny's actually an elder now." The mention of his sister's name brought a smile to his face, and he wistfully reflected on his family for a moment. "Well, none of us are immune to the passing of time."
Circe let out a puff of air through her nose, that might have been derisive laughter, but he couldn't be sure. "Yes, life can be worthy foe, Vidcund."
He glanced over at her to find Vali staring back at him intently. He was extremely intense for a toddler, and his resemblance to Loki was just unnerving.
"I should get moving," Vidcund said, "I wouldn't want to be late. That would hardly be professional."
"I'll see you later, Vidcund." It wasn't a question.
Vidcund stepped outside. It had turned into another beautiful, hot day. The usual.
He waited for his cab. It would have been nice to arrive in his own vehicle, but he'd left the car with Pascal. He'd been taking a lot of cabs lately, considering that his affair with Circe was not something he hoped his brother would find out about. Well, what difference did it make? It's not like he had an impressive car. The Curious brothers were not the type to win attention through physical, material things. He'd impress them with his intellect, as usual.
Vidcund brushed his shoulder, picking off a piece of lint that he found there.
Sometimes he felt like his whole life was just a battle against lint, but he wasn't about to let his guard down enough for the lint to win. He spend a couple of minutes going over the surface of his entire outfit, just to be sure.
Then the cab arrived, and he headed off to La Fiesta Tech.
Shortly afterwards, Circe stepped outside to greet a visitor at the gate.
"Good morning, Dr. Lothario."
"Good morning, Dr. Beaker. You're looking gorgeous, as usual."
Circe didn't respond to the compliment, but smiled with obvious satisfaction. "You've brought me a package. Is that correct?"
"Yes. Just like you ordered."
A grin spread wide across his face, as tried to avoid saying that he'd brought her more than one type of package, if she was interested, but he knew that Circe wouldn't appreciate such a blatant suggestion. He was pretty sure he could lay her, if he played his cards right, but he'd have to be careful.
Circe Beaker was not an easy target.
Circe didn't waste any time. "Well, it's just scorching out here, so let's go inside and get right down to business. Please... follow me."
"Just lead the way." He had no issues with walking behind Circe. That's where the best view was. After the long drive through the desert, it was like finding an oasis.
They went inside.
Class was already in session for the LFT art program.
It was one of Buck's earlier classes, but he liked the early rise. Some old habits never died, and he was sure that he'd always have the General's military schedule etched into his bones. He had no time for wasting.
It was a critique day, which always made him a little nervous. That was one of the things that he'd never gotten used to, even though he'd been no stranger to that in the Grunt household either.
One by one, each student presented their work. Buck was not eager to volunteer, though he knew his turn would come before too long. It had his stomach in knots.
"Now, remember... It is the tendecy of the beginner to make the skull too small. You have to remember that the sim does have a brain in there. And watch your proportions. Those hands are starting to look like baseball gloves."
Professor Barrett turned to the student next to her. "Other than that, this was lovely, Asia. Good use of bold colour. Now... who wants to go next?"
Lucy Burb's arm shot up. "I'll go next."
"Okay, Lucy. You're on."
She placed her painting on the easel. "It's a portrait of my best friend."
"This is a nice composition." The prof remarked. "You've worked very well with your medium, using charcoal to create a tonal study. Does anyone else have anything to add?"
"Umm..." Buck's soft voice cut in. "I like the expression that's she's captured. He seems... determined?" He felt himself blushing. "That's just what I get from it."
"No, that's a very insightful comment, Buck. He does have a certain look of confidence and purpose."
"I really wanted to show that." Lucy smiled, quite pleased with herself. "That's really what he's like. He has, you know... a vision." She caught Buck's eye and smiled at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.
A couple of students snickered, and Buck wished he had enough nerve to turn around and glare at them. At times like that, he really wished he was more like Ripp. His brother would have just told those assholes where to go and how to get there.
"Well, it comes through beautifully." The professor said. Lucy moved back to the stand next to the rest of the group.
"Now, who hasn't stepped up here yet?" She wondered. "Buck, we haven't heard from you yet, have we?"
"Umm, no..."
"Would you like to go next?"
"Okay." He picked up his painting and set it down on the easel.
Buck tried not to look as nervous as he was.
"You have a very distinct style, Buck."
"Thank you." Buck felt himself growing faint, but he tried to keep it together.
"Does anyone have anything else to add?" It was possible to hear a pin drop, and the prof made a mental note to structure her critiques differently in the future. For the majority of the class, this was like pulling teeth.
"Well, I think this is just lovely." Lucy Burb cut in.
"I love the graphic quality of the ink line drawing, with the soft watercolours. It's a nice contrast."
"That's a nice observation." The prof looked around, as if to point out to the rest of the class that they should take a cue from Lucy. "Let's all try to think of something concrete like that to say about it, okay?" An audible sigh or two revealed that the message had been picked up.
"Ummm, the colours are decent," Someone offered, "Like, they aren't bad colours."
"I appreciate that," another added, "because every time I mix green in watercolour paint, it looks like poo."
"Yes, Buck has a great eye for colour." The prof said.
Buck beamed. Later, he would worry that the other students were thinking that he was a teacher's pet, but in the moment, he was very pleased to have the attention. "Well, I have a bit of experience with green," he said, "I come from a military family, and, well, there's just a lot of green in my life." He wasn't about to start rambling on about aliens. It was bad enough to have admitted that he was a military brat.
"Yeah..." Lucy jumped in again. "There's a nice softness to the whole thing. This girl has green hair, but she doesn't look confrontational at all. She looks really soft and pretty. And that smile makes it seem like she has a secret to me. I really like the expression."
"Thank you, Lucy." The prof looked around. "Anyone else?"
After nobody volunteered, she thanked Buck, and he returned to his where he had been standing.
It hadn't been so bad.
After the critique, Lucy approached Buck while he was cleaning up some brushes.
"Wow. You're really talented, aren't you?"
"Umm, I don't know about that..."
"Oh, you're so modest! If I were you, I'd be rubbing it in everyone's face all day long." Buck blushed. "You're obviously one of the best students in our class. You have to realize that, right?"
"I really liked your drawing," Buck said, to change the subject. "You do realism very well."
"Yeah, well it seems like some people around here think I take myself too seriously."
"That's..." He paused. "There's nothing wrong with taking your work seriously."
"No. You're right. If anything, I should take myself MORE seriously, and then they can all suck it when I'm a famous artist and they're just cleaning my brushes for me." Buck smiled. Lucy smiled back at him. "You should come and have lunch with me, Buck."
"I'm supposed to meet Jill." Lucy waited for more information. "The girl from the painting."
"Oh, okay. Is that your roommate?"
"Yeah. She's my girlfriend." He decided not to add a qualifier, since he didn't really know Lucy all that well.
"Well, why don't we meet up after lunch to look at some art books out in the art library... now that we've outed ourselves as the serious art nerds in the class." She made a gesture as if she was pressing glasses up the bridge of her nose and snorted a couple of times. "Then we could go goof around at the student centre. Play some arcade games or something. Have some fun."
"Oh. No... I can't do that." Buck shifted back and forth on his feet. "It sound's like fun, but I have to spend some time with my brothers this afternoon. It's kind of important."
"Oh, you're a busy guy." Buck just shrugged, but silently agreed. He did have some work ahead of him where the other two were concerned. As usual, he had to step in and act as a referee. It was the story of his life.
"Well, another time then?" Lucy had a way of putting people at ease, and Buck could see that she'd make a good friend for someone like him.
"Alright."
"I'm going to hold you to that, okay?"
"Okay."
Pascal was starting to feel run down, so he took some time to visit Lola.
"It's about time you descended from the hilltop, Paz. You've been very scarce this last little while."
"I'm sorry, Lola. I've been busy."
"Well, I worry about you. You haven't been the same after Nervous..." She trailed off, since it was hard to know what to end the sentence with. To say that he died seemed so blunt, but she didn't want to trivialize it or sensationalize it either.
"I'm fine, Lola."
Lola examined his face, and he wondered if she was picking up on any subtle clues about what he was really up to. He wouldn't been entirely surprised if she could read it all on his face.
Kristen walked into the room and picked up a newspaper. Pascal had noticed a lot of change in her lately.
"Hi, Pascal."
"Hi, Kristen. How are you?"
"Oh, very well. I've started working again."
"That's great. Good for you."
"Now you just need to get out more and find yourself a man." Chloe's poked her head out from the kitchen.
"Chloe, that's not very nice," Lola said.
Chloe stepped into the room. "I'm not trying to be a bitch, Lola. I'm just being direct. At least someone in this family doesn't dance around the facts." She flicked flour out of her hair, since she was busy baking. "Am I being mean, Kristen?"
"No, it's fine, Chloe."
"See? She's not a child or a retard."
"Don't say retard." Pascal said.
"Okay, sorry... delayed, slow, exceptional... whatever. I never know what's PC these days. People are so sensitive."
"It's just nice to be considerate," Lola said.
"Hey, Kristen. How do you feel about going downtown with me on my next day off? We can go shopping and get you a new haircut or something. You need to do something to reinvent yourself. It'd be good for you."
"Okay, Chloe. Maybe."
"Good. It's a date." Chloe shot her siblings a smug look, and went back to the kitchen.
"So, let's talk about Lazlo, shall we?"
"Yes, let's."
"Have you spoken to him lately?"
"He called me just yesterday."
"He's pretty upset, isn't he?"
"Yeah. It's a tough situation to be in. What can he really do?"
"She's not going to change her mind?"
Pacsal tried not to scoff. "Crystal doesn't seem like the sort of woman that changes her mind easily."
"No, you're right. I don't know her all that well, but she seems that way."
"Lazo is devastated, as you can imagine."
"Of course he is. It can't be good to feel like you have no control over the situation."
Crystal Vu had become pregnant, despite the many layers of birth control that she employed to prevent such an occurance.
She didn't mention it to Lazlo, but to herself, she blamed the natural fertility of the Curious family, who seemed to multiply like rabbits. It bothered her to have such a mishap, since she was used to being in full control of her life.
Lazlo, of course, wanted to keep the baby. She had expected that. She had expected his reaction to what she had said to that too, but she stood her ground. It was her choice, and she wasn't going to have a baby. Not now, maybe not ever.
Lazlo had been startled by this fact, and she realized that this was something that they should have talked about sooner. Well, she hadn't planned to get pregnant, had she? She thought Lazlo would have realized that she was focused on her career and had no time for children.
Babies were something that other women did, but not her.
She wasn't going to feel like some monster because she wanted something else for herself. Nobody would say that about a man if he made the same choice. Men like her weren't called bitches, they were called successful.
Lazlo had been devastated.
Like the rest of his family, Lazlo thought that having a baby would be a cause for celebration. He loved his nieces and nephews, and had hoped to have children of his own. It had never come up in conversation with Crystal, but he thought she would have known that. He thought that it was pretty obvious.
Pascal had told Lazlo that he should make up his own mind about the situation, but he had also made no hesitation to tell him that he didn't think the relationship would work, given these differences. This was a major issue between two people. It was a matter of basic approaches to life.
Pascal was also not content to see Crystal have her way on this one, with no concessions made for what Lazlo wanted. Surely they could reach a compromise.
He had to help his little brother. It was his responsibility to get him out of these messes. It always had been like that. Lazlo was the one who found himself in these situations, more often than not. Vidcund was more careful, more responsible. Vidcund would have gotten it all in writing.
"Don't worry, Pascal," Lola said, "This will work itself out."
"Well, I hope so."
Frances stepped outside of Edie's apartment to pick up the morning paper.
He casually strolled back inside and took a seat on the couch. Edie was putting away some of the books that had been lying around.
"So, what's the bad news, Frances?"
"Edie, from now on, I'm going to be 100% positive at all times." Frances flashed an overly zealous grin, but Edie didn't even turn around to see it. She went along with what she thought was an obvious joke.
"Oh, okay. That sounds good. Should I get out a stopwatch and time you?"
"I'm serious."
"Yeah, I know. Very serious."
Frances glared at her, but then shrugged it off. "Well, anyway... I have a new outlook on life now, whether you want to mock it or not."
"Kissing straight boys will do that, I hear."
"Listen. One of them was definitely NOT straight."
"Well, he's mostly straight. Same difference."
"Oh, please. There's a HUGE difference. And he knew what he was doing. It couldn't have been the first time he's had his hand down a guy's pants."
"Frances... the language." Edie gasped and clucked her tongue like an offended mother. "You know, he does have one of his own. He's almost certainly had his hand down his own pants. Had that occured to you?"
"Look, I know, okay. It wasn't his first time."
"Still... it's in that bicurious/experimental/who-the-hell-knows spectrum, and that's not something you need to get into right now. You and your insistence on chasing after unattainable guys, Frances. I'll never understand you."
"I like MEN, Edie. I want a guy that's manly, okay?"
Since she had a rapt audience, she continued her lecture. "Well, I just hope you've finally been able to get it out of your system for a while, and will consider trying someone who's actually just good old fashioned gay next time. It's not all prissy little queens out there like you seem to think, Frances. Not that it would hurt you to look beyond your type. You need to broaden your horizons. Maybe look beyond the surface?"
"Yeah, maybe."
"Say, 'Yes, Edie. I promise.'"
"Okay, sure."
Edie opened the fridge and grabbed a couple of snacks to keep her going through her recording session. She started beatboxing a little tune to herself, and then added a nursery rhyme over the beat as lyrics.
"Francey Prancey, Puddin' and Pie, Kissed the boys and made them cry, When the girls came out to play, Francey Prancey ran away."
"Yes, that's very amusing," Frances said.
"Ooh, you're good. Still positive. Well, I hope that works out for you. A girl could get used to this." She grabbed her keys from the rack. "So, I booked the hair appointment for you. Bruce Firewind... he's the best in the city. All the girls in the band get their hair done there."
"Well, he sounds like he's probably gay enough to give me a good cut and colour."
"Oh, are you getting a colour?"
"No."
"Anyway, he's not gay, he's a faery."
"Well, tomato, to-MAH-to, Edie. Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?"
"No, I mean he's a faery, as in the fair folk. You know, with the pointy ears and all that. He's from Veronaville." Frances sighed. Did Edie know anyone that wasn't from Veronaville? He loved her, but the whole Veronaphile thing started to wear on his nerves after a while.
"Oh, I see. Are they supposed to be good hairdessers too?"
"They're simply magical, Frances."
"Indeed."
"Well, the appointment is at 2:00, so don't be late."
"Maybe I will be late... I'm all about going with the flow now."
"You'll be early, I bet."
"Most likely, yes."
"Well, I'm off. Stay out of trouble, okay?"
"I'll try my best."
Edie tried not to laugh out loud. The thought of Frances getting himself into any sort of real trouble was nothing but a joke.
Ripp was heading to Buck's apartment.
He was thinking back on the day after his last epic tear with Jaxy, as he had been all week, and was again filled with a sense of bewilderment.
He had been doing the using routine. Throwing up a little, drinking some juice, throwing up some more, wondering what the hell he did last night, and then wondering...
Had he kissed Frances Worthington last night?
No, of course not. He hadn't just kissed him, he had made out with him. There's a big difference. What the hell was all that about? He wasn't gay, but then he just decides to make out with gay guys sometimes? Fuck. What a hot mess.
That wasn't even factoring in the fact that Tank had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. His strategy so far had been avoidance, but he really needed to talk to Buck. If anyone could help him sort through that mess, it was Buck. That's why they had plans to meet that afternoon.
And that was only the tip of the iceberg. What a difference a day could make.
Yes, he'd thrown up like a trooper that day. Even more than the night before.
After he'd gotten it out of his system, and plowed his way through the worst of the hangover-inducted urge to end himself, all three of them had settled down to a nice big late-afternoon brunch of awkwardness and confusion.
To say that it was weird was a huge understatement, but things had gradually improved after that.
They had spent most of that day sitting around the apartment, talking about it all. Just talking. More talking than he had ever done about that sort of thing.
He would like to be able to say that they figured it all out, but they were nowhere near that point yet.
All things considered, they hadn't done too badly.
They had no idea what they were doing, but they knew that they didn't want to turn against each other and self destruct.
It was that certainty that guided them. They didn't know much about what they really wanted, but they knew that they wanted to stay together, as a single unit. That was how it had always been, and none of them wanted that to change.
It was what they all wanted. Ripp was relieved about that. The thought of losing Johnny, even if he was the one who had Ophelia, was not something he could even bear to think of.
So they were still together, but it couldn't ever be the same as it was, not really. What had been done could not be taken back, and Johnny hadn't demanded that they try to. That surprised Ripp, but he was glad for it. Not even Johnny could manage to whitewash over that sort of mess. Now they really were what they always had been, beneath the surface, unbeknownst to even themselves.
They were Ophelia's two boys, who both loved her, and she loved them back.
Where would they go from there?
The only way they could possibly move was forward, so that's what they would do, but they had no idea what that future would look like. They were feeling around in the dark.
Buck was waiting for him when he arrived.
After the usual brotherly greeting, Buck ushered Ripp inside.
Once he stepped through the door, he realized that Buck had deceived him.
Ripp was not the only brother who had been invited over that afternoon.
He let out an audible yelp when he saw Tank.
"Buck..." Tank looked like he was ready to throw up, but spoke very calmly. "What are you doing?"
"We're not going anywhere until we talk this through." Buck's tone was firm and determined.
"Fuck... ME..." Ripp let out an endless sigh, as he resigned to his fate.
Buck wasn't about to back down. "So, who wants to go first?" he asked, looking at Tank.
Tank shifted around uncomfortably in his chair. "Umm, so how long have you... been a homo?"
"I'm NOT gay, Tank! Oh my fucking LORD!"
Things had gotten out of control more quickly than Buck had anticipated. "Okay, let's back off a little here..."
"No, let's just talk it out, Buck!" Ripp said, with mock enthusiasm. "Tank here needs to get a fucking clue!"
"What did I say wrong? I'm not blind, Ripp! I saw it with my own two eyes!"
"Yeah, so I did it - big fucking deal! I was drunk out of my skull."
"How convenient! God, I hope I'm never that drunk."
Ripp let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Look, I'm not gay, Tank. Do you have any idea how many women I've fucked? One guy doesn't make me gay."
"That is true, Tank." Buck cut in. Tank just continued to scowl. Buck considered how much else he might say on the matter, but then Ripp burst back in.
"And I didn't even do anything with him, really! Not much. Not really. We were just fucking around."
"Okay, well, then fine! I don't know what you want to call it, but it's still really fucking weird, okay?"
"Well, I won't argue with you there. I didn't exactly wander into your house to fucking jump your roommate."
"I told you to call first, anyway."
"Okay, sorry! The next time I'm piss loaded drunk, I'll try to remember my fucking manners!"
"You little piece of shit -"
In a flash, Tank was on his feet and filling with bloodlust.
"Okay, okay! Guys, that's enough." Buck tried to settle them back down. "This is good... we're talking it through. This is healthy."
Ripp let out a sarcastic snarl. "Oh yeah... soooo fucking healthy. That's us. Just another picture-perfect family."
"Ripp, I'm just concerned about you. Can't you see that?" Tank was suddenly very intense. Ripp just stared at him, in stunned disbelief. "You're just out of control, and I don't think you have a clue what you're doing with your life."
"You're right." He shrugged, with his eyes wide and wild. "I don't."
Buck felt the tense static quality in the air, and wondered if this had actually been a good idea. "Look, we're all a little lost, Tank." Even you, he thought, but didn't say.
"Yeah, maybe, Buck... but Ripp here really needs to get his act together."
"Sure thing, BUZZ."
"That's NOT FUNNY!" Tank roared.
While Buck was attempting to block Tank, and calm him down, Ripp disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door.
Tank noticed what he had done. "Oh, for fuck's sake!"
"Ripp, come out of there." Buck said.
"No."
"Do you have to be a fucking child about it, Ripp?!"
"Just leave him alone, Tank." Buck said. "Sit down, and relax." He directed his attention back to the door. "Ripp, come on... are you going to come out?"
"Yeah, in a minute." The urge to burst into tears had passed, at least. Ripp looked in the mirror, and saw what Tank must see when he looked at him. A ratty little loser, who didn't even had enough direction in life to get a shave in the morning. He could do something about that, at least. That might make Tank feel like some progress had been made. And why not? He was ready for a change. He was already changing. It might not be such a bad thing.
"Buck, would you do something for me?"
"Yeah, sure, Ripp. What is it?"
Ripp opened the door and sheepishly stepped out. "I think I need a haircut."
Frances stepped inside the salon and was instantly greeted by a man who couldn't be anyone other than Bruce Firewind.
"And you must be Frances! Right on time. Here, have a seat..."
Bruce made a sweeping gesture to the salon chair. He had a melodic, relaxing quality to his voice. He smelled sort of leafy, like lawn clippings.
Bruce saw that Frances was twitching his nose. "You've notice my cologne, I see."
"Yeah, what is that?"
"It's called Grass. Very trendy. It's a line of fragrances that replicate real things instead of just florals. You can get Asphalt too. And Sand. There's one for every terrain type."
"What exactly does sand smell like?" Frances raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing, really. I wouldn't waste my money on that one, if I were you." Frances had no intention of wasting his money on any of them, and Frances could afford to replace his toilet tissue with simolean bills if he wanted to.
"You seem familiar to me," Frances said.
"Yeah, I get that a LOT. You have no idea." Bruce smiled, and made a face. "Arrrrrrr! Does that help you figure it out?"
"Ummm... no..."
"You haven't seen the movie? I've been told I resemble the lead actor."
"Which movie?"
"Are you kidding?! Oh, I don't know... maybe the big blockbuster pirate movie that everyone's talking about? That movie? He's a new actor... Tim Something-or-other. You know - it had Jan Tellerman and Ben Long in it too."
"Oh... right." Frances had no idea. He hated pirates, and he had to keep this fact a secret, for obvious reasons. It would be like admitting that you hated vampires. Or ninjas. Truth be told, he hated all three.
"Now, about your hair..." Bruce directed the conversation back to more pressing matters. "I think you'll do well with my newest look. It's VERY cutting edge."
"I don't know..." Frances was uncomfortable with the idea that he'd stand out that much.
"No, trust me. It's going to work perfectly with the shape of your face."
"Well..."
"Trust me, Frances."
Frances wanted to trust him, but as Bruce leaned in with his scissors at the ready, and a beatific smile on his face, he felt like jumping up from the chair, and bolting down the street. In his mind, he was already running.
"Well, let's do this, Frances. A new you - here we come!"
Frances just closed his eyes.
He could do this. He was a new man now. A risk taker. Someone who was open to new experiences.
It was all over before he knew it.
"Taadaa!" Bruce said, with a flourish. "Oh, it's just wonderful! You're going to love it."
Frances sneezed a couple of times, since some hair had gone up his nose. Bruce was efficient, but hardly immaculate.
"See? What did I tell you?"
"Oh, wow."
"See? See? I was right, wasn't I?"
"Well, I was wrong to doubt you. This is lovely."
"This hairstyle will bring you good luck. You're going to find everything you've been looking for, and sooner than you expect, I think."
Frances wasn't really one to believe in such things as luck, but he felt like that really might be true. Maybe the positivity thing was really starting to stick, but he did feel slightly renewed. If he actually believed in magic, he would have suspected that Bruce had sprinkled some faery dust on him while cutting his hair.
"You know," he said, "maybe you're right..."
"Oh, trust me. You're going to have a good day. You have that New Haircut Energy."
Frances hoped so.
Some notes:
The artist behind Buck Grunt is none other than squirrel_tamer, who has been so kind to agree to contribute her talents to the story. I love her drawings, and it's so nice of her to make artwork based on my story, so I thought it would be fun to have her play a more direct role in it all. I just love collaborating.
As a number of you had already guessed, Bruce Firewind is Tim Broke from simgaroop's The Broke Legacy (it's not like I should really have to tell you who creates it, but just in case you've been living under a rock somewhere for the last year... you should read it). The movie I mentioned is from the awesome teaser image for The Broke Legacy: Gen. 5.1. I had made some notes about the hairdresser I was going to create for that scene, and saw that I had scribbled down some hot elf guy. Why waste an opportunity for a cameo, right? I've actually had him downloaded for quite some time in anticipation of this scene.
I know what you're thinking... Guest artists? Cameos? Makeovers? What's all this about? Are my ratings going down? *snicker* Yes, It's a blatant grab for ratings. You've figured me out. (Did it work?) I even threw in Don Lothario for good measure.
I don't expect to post the next part for about a week, with the way things look right now. It's coming along though, so the delay shouldn't be any longer than that.
Also, I've decided to enable anonymous posting in my comments, starting now. As much as I love trying to draw people into the world of livejournal, there are probably some readers who would prefer not to sign up for an account (turn back now - you'll get sucked in *snicker*). I'll give it a try, anyway. They will be screened, for your pleasure.