Leashed by Luxury

X. Acquisition Inquisition

The men talk amongst themselves a room away while Emmi pours me a Long Island iced tea to celebrate. Hair of the dog outside of Daddy's view. Something to still my excited, tired shakes. The backlit bar, with its modern swirls of neon green, reminds me of the time Daddy made Joles and me play laser tag as "a bonding exercise" back when she was new. But it just ended with us fighting over whether we should pool our meager arcade tickets into glow frogs or Silly String. (I sprayed my Silly String on her frogs after we stole some from a kid who dropped tix like Tic Tacs as he waddled up to the concession stand.)

Emmi is still tittering over my line during my bead-busting burlesque performance, "If you trip, I'm not liable...Daddy is." She finds it "cute" that I call my "boss such an endearing pet name."

I don't correct or elaborate on what Angel is to me: Daddy or dom(ineering drunk) or legal guardian or pimping pain in the ass. I just bop my head to the synthy EDM piped in at a polite volume overhead.

"Pearl is my birth stone," she chatters on, rubbing the condensation of her sunset spritz. "Some say pearls breaking like they did for you is a good sign, a positive omen, that the jewelry served its purpose and protected you from something drastic."

Swinging back the cocktail to bide time, mulling over the supposed "unseen powers that be," I come up with nothing more profound than, "I wonder what? Ra's wrath over a shitty performance doesn't seem like it'd be that drastic. But I hope that's the case. I could use some shielding here and there, better than Skyn." Though on further thought, "Ya know, the whole pearl-breaking thing didn't work out for Batman's mom, now did it?"

She smiles indulgently over her slushy ombré drink. "Maybe because it guarded the citizens of Gotham later instead."

"You don't look like a nerd," I tease. You look more like my "sister" if she drank her milk as a kid, filled out into an Icelandic princess instead of a French fae.

"I don't believe so, but so many girls here dress as Cat Woman for obvious reasons." We look down at her delicate bikini despite the A/C breeze. "I'd rather not sweat out any leathers. Or muss my hair with masks."

"Yeah, Ra wouldn't be able to slip you out of it so easy, then." I wink, wondering who, if anybody, gets the cat-tail whipping then. Her skin looks spotless, but I own a few blemish-masking "liquid nylon" sprays, too.

"Hmm," she laughs or at least acknowledges it. "Can't tell if you're perceptive or...presumptive. How do you know Raffaele is my...mentor? Angel tells him you've not been 'in the loop, as of late.'"

"Oh, I don't mean anything concrete. Just casting lines." I mimic the pull-back and swing of fishing, ignoring Angel's underplayed grouching. "I mean, what's Ra teach you?" I giggle. "Can't imagine he's demonstrating how to shake ass."

"Haha. Not personally... But there's an accounting or hospitality side he instructs me on. Back of house stuff, bartending. I want to know and be able to run everything in his absence." She whispers out of the side of her mouth in a boast, "I can make a better cocktail than this." Her index fingers make a heart on the frosted glass nonetheless. Then she clears her throat to carry on: "Booking, hosting, waiting on the dignitaries who come in."

"Dignitaries?" Ra may look like royalty, but isn't this still bumpkin country? I moved out for a reason.

"Yes. Not just in the entertainment ring. Raffaele has family and friends, you know."

"Like what, coal barons?" I look around like, What's in this li'l town besides mines and refineries, farmers' markets and this.

"Every city has government officials, relatives that come to visit," she says like I'm being deliberately obtuse. Like power works better in the shadows of oak foliage. Money changes hands best in the dark, the fringes for forest reprieves.

"Oh, I know, but they come often enough that you mention it to be on my toes day one? I know politicians are perverts, or they like an exclusive chill out spot. My man works for the state, too, but that's more evident or of note when you're coming from Philly. I guess all I'm saying is, I'm surprised this place has so much buzz. Has it even been open a year?"

There's a shift in her glass green eyes.

Maybe I shouldn't have said so much or been so blasé, but is she really a blackmail babe? Does she or her family have serious stakes in this "company"? It just seems a hip hang out for wannabes rather than reals.

"Your boyfriend doesn't mind you working in a place like this?"

I grin. "Of course not. That's how we met."

"I'm sorry to say, but that usually doesn't matter in the end." She fixes her consolation face, brightens like a flipped switch. "But congratulations. You seem happy enough."

I'm not sure if she means in general or my relationship, reminding me I gotta call Giovanni back once I'm outta here. "Guess I'm just lucky, like you said about the pearl thing..."

"And we're happy to have you on board! Il Vespro needs more experienced, thoughtful girls like you." She sounds like a brand ambassador, a glambassador in her high gloss and gold bangles. As invested as Ra and Angel.

Wonder if she's been here from the start, what Angel thinks...besides how banging her body is. Hips, lips, and t**s are all bigger but not luridly so, not cosmetically altered or on the fault line of fat that flubbers. I almost can't wait to tease him about this Sydney Sweetie after he got jealous of Giovanni on the phone. "What about you?" I test. "Is this how you started? Do you not get along with some girls or people here?"

"Oh, I was just invited by Raffaele to work after a brief visit to the roulette table downstairs. So sort of like you. But I've been attached to the hip to him since th--"

"So are you looking for other partners if Ra is...so partial to you?"

"Naria, are you coming on to me?" she titters, shaking her head. "No, not exactly. Only if he sanctions it."

I raise a brow. Maybe this girl's closer to my and Angel's deal than I supposed, someone to open up to...later. Doubt Angel meant making a confidante type friend. More like a sexy slumber party or shopping partner. Someone shallow, who makes us all look good to know. He once told me we're simply "in the business of looking good," one of my favorite euphemisms.

"I'm too preoccupied with everything here," she edits when I let the silence stretch. "I don't have time for a slew of partners, even if I wanted them." But then she undoes the softening with: "I only want what Raffaele wants."

No wonder Daddy wanted me to meet you guys, I think. He'd love for a pretty, powerful little puppet's polish to rub off on me. To be sandwiched between his and Ra's masculine influence, the refrain of, You should just...s. I sigh. Seem to do that a lot lately. And drink. But I'm not stopping now. Gotta finish this hard tea before he wants a taste, gets triggered. Or at least that's what's motivating me to slurp until the ice cubes stack floatless. "Whatever works for you, Emmi. You're an interesting girl." Not quite an inspiration--besides the body for my vision board. "I wish you well."

"You too." She stands to hug me. Then playfully tugs on my unbroken bracelet. "Stammi bene," she says. It's 'take care' in Italian. Maybe a relaid message from her beloved, actually Mediterranean and oh-so formal Raffaele.

"We'll see. XO."