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Lily of the Valley (CA - Silas)

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I raised an eyebrow at Diane.

“You asked that in the same tone as your father, about her.”

Now I felt crawly inside, wondering what lens she and her father saw me through. I waved my fingers up off the table, without taking my hand off of it, and shook my head. More dismissive than I would have liked to be in that moment, I searched for an answer to please Diane. Opening my mouth, I felt the ugly head of a sarcastic remark rising up, and clamped my teeth down to keep it in. Blondes aren't my type. Back, down into the belly, you beast.

I tried not to discuss past lives with anyone. For one, none of it was interesting. But there was also the matter of business, and nobody needed a reason to doubt my loyalty. Somehow, a continent of distance felt too close in the grand scheme of things.

Gabe was more of the same. I didn’t like his ilk when I left home and I didn’t like it now. He was perfectly good at being a worthless, manipulative, entitled, slimy mafia brat. And I wanted to take him down-so what did that make me?

“I don’t know what to tell you, Diane. Maybe it is too personal.” I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest, “He reminds me of my brothers. Bottomless, hungry, nothing but insatiable greed. Never satisfied. Never. Turn out woman after woman like old cars with too many miles, keep people close to use them and toss them like trash. The world is their ashtray, their playground, yet it means nothing to them. They want it just so nobody else can have it.”

A sigh.

“Am I like him?” I met her eyes, desperate for her to tell me it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Are we all alike?”

That didn’t expand much on the question. My brow furrowed. For all of the things I could find the answer to if I applied myself, this was one I never let myself dwell on.

If we were all the same in this, if there wasn’t anything that differentiated us-the best of the worst from the worst of the worst-Gabe from Silas, what was the point? 

"Of course not, Silas." Diane answered, as if the answer were obvious, or she didn't believe what was asked. Either way, she turned her attention to the menu a moment later and pretended to peruse it. Then she put it down and looked at Silas rather seriously.

"How does one get up in the world as far as you have and still have no concise idea who they are?" She asked.  A moment later, she turned her chin down and flashed Silas a playful smile. "You must be joking."

I laughed mirthlessly and rubbed the back of my neck.

“Yeah. Joke kind of bombed, I’ll stick to crime..”

Batting a thousand, old pal. Inside thoughts.

I didn’t do well in these situations. Maybe I’d go underground, become the resident mad scientist. Interact with people solely by carrier pigeon and trained rats.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long week. Do you know what you’d like? Let me pay and get out of your hair.” I fished for the billfold from my coat pocket, my eyelids lowered.

Diane glanced him up and down. Clearly, he was not joking. She was not oblivious to his discomfort, either, but there was a point to inviting him out of his comfort zone.

"No," She said. "This little outing is my treat. You have to try at least the custard, first. Its rather good with a lemon, or caramel sauce..."

Diane opened the menu and paid it a little more mind this time to dismiss the demons.

I met her eyes once again before they fell behind the menu, and returned the billfold to my jacket pocket, deciding then to put the suit jacket on.

My mind wandered. This time, I tried people watching as we waited for the waitress to take our orders. She arrived after a couple short minutes, just as I was observing an older lady, dressed to the nines, crossing the street. I’d become terribly invested in who and what she was dressed up for this time of night. Long red dress, complete with a fur collar and gloves, her best pearl jewelry. Probably some elite old peoples club where they practiced screaming “the price of gas is too high!” “where are my reading glasses?” and the classic “your dog is crushing my petunias!”

I ordered the custard with caramel sauce. Waited for Diane to order. The older lady was gone now-she got around fast. Her perfume trailed behind her, the signature old lady scent, sickeningly floral, maybe a hint of citrus. She would be easier to tail than a rabbit in a shoebox.

My arms crossed over my chest again. I waited to see if Diane would break the silence first. Maybe we would finish and part ways without another word-that was alright with me. The loudmouthed umpire in my head was ready to call for a strikeout either way, so I settled for prolonging the inevitable.

I didn’t want to think that this would be my last… we’ll call it my “less than business” visit with Diane. On the other hand, I never wanted to be this uncomfortable again. I kept my composure on the outside, but I was already planning on how I’d engineer a pulley system to lift the rats up from my lair to the surface.

What was a prolonged silence to Silas was but a moment of consideration to Diane. Her eyes may have perused the menu once or twice more, but her attention fluctuated evenly between the present company and the number of individuals in the café behind her.

When the waitress came out, Diane put on a pretensive air, made some slight remark on the menu choices, and then dismissed the woman. The waitress went back in, somewhat stiffly, and Diane resumed her previous air.

"We're about to get some information." She said subtly, with a smile concealed under the lip of her cup.  She took another sip of tea and casually motioned a continuum.
"But do let's carry on with this thought," she said. "You know, I was rather disappointed when we first met. I had briefly hoped that you were not so high up in the world. But then I saw your sigil, and I knew you were far too important to my father."

Information. 

I knew my eyes lit up, if only for a second. I sipped my lemon water and they narrowed again, snuffing out the blue.

Wondering what news our waitress would bring. Wondering why Diane was disappointed with me on our first meeting. Wondering why water was wet.

What’s it to yous, doll?

A grumpy New Yorker commented slyly in my head.

I’m glad to have been to your disappointment, my lady.

No, still sarcastic.

“Ah.” A half smile and a glance. A glance back away, the smile gone.

Oh, eloquent. Riveting. Ah. 

Disappointed. Because I was more than she anticipated? Or because her perception of me was that I should have been a much lower rank? Squashable?

I turned my eyes back in the direction the waitress had gone.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, before Diane could continue. "I know I'm a delirious cynic. I know I have an unrelenting will to survive in spite of everything stacked against me. I know I'm not Gabe. Gabe can't see a good thing in front of him - I can, for what it's worth."

I inclined my head towards Diane, making it certain in no unclear terms what that good thing in front of me was.

"Why were you disappointed?"

I met her eyes, refocused, trying to find my footing in this delicate dance. I shoved the existential dread back down for the sake of finishing this conversation with maybe a shred dignity intact.

Diane would have had him elaborate on his, what she considered, disinterested grunt. But waiting him out did the trick for him to continue.

"Because," Daine said, folding her arms on the edge of the table and leaning forward just so. "I need people who are loyal to me, not simply my family."

"My father has any number of people who are loyal to him. They're really not a rarity. They will always place his interests first, and rightly so. But, as you know, I have my own interests. He knows I must be at liberty to explore them, and that includes choosing my own companions."

"Like father, like daughter. Our interests sometimes overlap. At which point, what are we to do when we take interest in the same people?" Diane peaked her brows and gave a half shrug of her shoulders. "I say, let the people decide."

"Tsk tsk tsk tsk." I shook my head and lowered my eyelids, "What a dilemma..." I held my hands out in front of me with my palms up, weighing the choices.

Then dropping my hands and offering Diane the same look she had given me earlier, I said, "You must be joking."

I rested my elbows on the table, "I'm sorry I ever gave you reason to doubt, truly." a more serious expression.

"Let me make this clear, Diane. I survived the better part of my life solely for the purpose of doing so out of spite. I didn't decide to live for the sake of life until I met you. Do with that what you will-however, know that, without a doubt, you will always come first."

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