Joker || Fracture
Joker || Fracture
Readers Please Note: Joker || Fracture may contain spoilers for the film. Read at your own discretion.
|| FOUR ||
Three months, two weeks and four days.
Arthur had been keeping a log of the passing time in the staff sign-in book where he was taught to autograph his name and the date for every morning as he clocked in and every evening before clocking out. The theatre director, the enigmatic and somewhat eccentric Lauretta Styl proved to be a regimented woman who ran her staff both cast and crew strictly, but fairly. With the exception of the performance personnel, theatre crew were worked on a two week rotating roster over a nine hour day. Staff began at either 7AM, 9AM or 11AM and worked through to 4PM, 6PM or 8PM respectively. They were afforded an hour’s lunch break, unpaid and two coffee breaks spaced evenly throughout their shifts ensuring the floors were never kept unmanned and always evenly staffed.
Arthur’s first fortnight in the theatre saw him on the 9AM shift and he was mindful to take an early bus into town to avoid being late. The weekend leading up his first Monday on duty found him to be a veritable ball of kinetic excitement. He could hardly sit still his anticipation was so great. That evening after the interview, found him bolting home on jubilant footfalls. A new sense of purpose filled him. Opportunity did wonders for a man’s self-confidence. Divesting himself of keys and coat, he called for his mother who was reading in the warm lamplight of the living room. She fixed her son with a cursory glance and nodded approvingly. He furnished her with every detail he could recall, bustling into the kitchen, intent on cooking a celebratory dinner. He’d make pasta sauce from scratch tonight!
“This is why I named you, Happy.” Penny murmured fondly as she sat upon a stool at their kitchen counter drinking sweet, hot tea and watching her son chop onions and sing to himself contentedly.
“Are they going to pay your better at this new job?”
“I dunno, Ma. It’s not right to ask about money during the interview. I’m sure it’ll be okay. We’ve always gotten by before even when things were tight. You should see this place, Ma, really. They have these beautiful purple curtains and gold fittings on the ceilings. They’re so high! You’d strain your neck looking up. And the stage is beautiful. The lady who runs the place, Lauretta, she said one day I might be able to perform on it, with my comedy act.”
“You’ll have to write some better jokes then. Something funny.” Penny replied absently. A shockingly loud clatter jolted her abruptly upright. Her son dropped the cooking knife he was handling to the sink.
“Jesus, Happy, do you have to be so clumsy? And loud? And did you check the letter box on your way up? I’m waiting for a letter.”
“They are funny.” Arthur murmured indistinctly beneath his breath. His voice quiet and his gaze unfocused upon the middle-distance. His elation deflating as suddenly as it had swelled. Penny’s ears were sharp though.
“What?”
“I said no, Ma. There wasn’t any letters today. There never is.”
“Oh… Well, I’m going to watch some television for a while, leave you to cook in peace.”
He waited for a few moments. Listening to the shuffling slippered foot-falls of his mother as she groaned, rising from her seat and padding away.
Through the kitchen window and across the street, Arthur’s sight fell upon his neighbor’s drab, old brick building. His kitchen window regrettably afforded a view of the neighbor’s living room on occasion when the curtains weren’t drawn.
The tenants were never of any interest to him directly. There was something impolite about looking into their living room. For his sake as much as theirs he sought to avert his gaze or draw the kitchen curtains whilst he cooked.
What drew his attention on this night was their great ginger tom cat with white paws and striking yellow eyes. The animal wore a red collar with a tiny silver bell around its neck and perched regally atop the window sill, watching him. Seemingly never moving. He’d lept upon the peeling sill at some point during the conversation with his mother and proceeded to lick at his left paw watching Arthur with feline interest all the while. He wondered at the cat’s name.
Come Monday morning, Arthur made sure he was at the stage door early. Martha answered his knock and offered him a polite compliment over his neat attire for which he was grateful. He’d spent the night before agonizing over the state of his wardrobe, ensuring his shirt was ironed and his shoes were polished. He wished he had a better bag rather than his worn brown leather satchel. It would do however. He made certain he had copies of his resume and ID in his wallet. Money was tight this week, he’d have to eat when he got home. Just as well, he couldn’t stomach anything right now. He was far too nervous.
“Pleased to have you, dear. Follow me to the break room. There are lockers were you can put your belongings and the coffee and tea is complimentary. You can help yourself before your shift starts. We take turns bringing in fresh milk. I’ll mark your name on the roster pinned to the fridge door. Mind you don’t forget it when it’s your turn hmm?” Martha began briskly as she lead Arthur around the box office, up a stair well, into a corridor and out into a large and airy breakout room with unfurnished windows that looked down into the bustling city below. The stage manager checked her watch and continued.
“Now, be mindful of the time. Laura’s called a meeting downstairs in front of the stage at 9am sharp. Take care you’re not late. She’s very particular about punctuality and famous for keeping us honest about it. I expect she’ll be wanting to introduce you to your crew mates formally and assign you some duties, you follow?”
Arthur nodded his head yes. He’d been listening intently as he followed Martha and her rapid footsteps to a row of tidy grey and white lockers that were set against the wall on the opposite end of the room. To Arthur’s surprise, number 11 had been assigned to him, his name written neatly upon a white label in black marker pressed upon the locker door.
“This one’s for you, Arthur. You’ll need to bring your own padlock but I’ll loan you this one for today.” Said Martha producing a small mail lock and its key from her jacket pocket. Arthur took the lock in hand, nodding his thanks. Martha continued her preamble intently,
“Now, if you bring your lunch, make sure you label it clearly when you put it in the fridge, food will mysteriously disappear otherwise. And where possible, don’t keep clothes or shoes in your locker over the weekend. Take them home to be aired and laundered save you copping unwanted flack.”
“Sure. I mean, of course, Mrs?”
“Martha, is perfectly alright, dear. You’ll find most staff will tolerate a first name. But be mindful, some of the actors are sensitive whilst performing or rehearsing. It’s best to keep out of their way. And for heaven’s sake don’t let yourself be caught near the women’s dressing rooms unless you’re expressly asked or you’ll catch hell for it, clear?”
“Crystal clear, Martha. Thank you. For everything, really.” Replied Arthur quietly. His gratitude welling in his eyes. He offered a docile, slightly lop-sided smile.
“Well, see if you make it through the first fortnight before giving me any thanks. Stage front in fifteen dear, yes? Ciao for now.”
And just so, Martha bustled away on a brisk footfalls, adjusting a pen in her tightly rolled bun, leaving Arthur to his own devices in the empty break room. A number of round timber tables and chairs waited quietly giving the room the impression of an unoccupied café.
With little left to do, Arthur set about putting his satchel away in his new locker, helping himself to some instant coffee and lighting up another cigarette to pass the time. Once the clock above the door read five to nine, he was quick to leave the large breakroom behind, retracting his steps downstairs until he came to the open theatre doors where a congregation of some fifteen people were standing at the foot of the stage.
Martha was among them, speaking hurriedly with Lauretta who seemed to acknowledge what was being said and taking notes on a clip board.
Oh, she was splendid today. Dressed in fitted, black high-waisted slacks and a peach blouse. Her sleeves rolled back and her hair gathered in a French braid. Around her stood an array of staff dressed in various states of uniformed workwear. Arthur gathered his wits and strode in what he hoped was a confident fashion to Lauretta’s shoulder.
She turned fixing him with a dazzling smile.
“And here he is. Alright, everyone!” The theatre director clapped her hands sharply, the crowd quieted and listened.
“For months now you’ve told me this production has taken a toll on each of you. I thank you for patience. As it stands, I’d like to introduce you all to our latest crew member, progressive comedian and practiced harlequin, formally of Ha Ha’s Entertainment, Mr. Arthur Fleck.”
All at once a dozen smiling faces broke into hoots and hollers. A round of applause was had and Arthur offered a heartfelt smile. A little shy beneath the heat of so much fresh attention.
“Hey, welcome aboard buddy!” Called a particularly sharp dressed young man. African American, lanky of limb and distinctly possessing the style of a pop-star.
“You’re gonna love it here. Hey, you wanna see your future? Look at that guy over there. That’s Greg, he’s what we all gotta look forward to lookin’ like, even the ladies, yeaooow!”
This seemed to draw laughs from the gathering, even from the unfortunate Greg who was weighty, balding and sucking on a partially lit Cuban cigar. He waved off the sly remark with good humor.
“Enough from you Freddie, you’ll give Arthur the wrong impression.” Lauretta corrected playfully before continuing.
“Now, Arthur will join us as a stage hand over the next two weeks, shadowing Freddie and Fay respectively. I ask you all mind your manners and be patient whilst he learns the ropes. Stagecraft takes time to come into, but if we can work collaboratively we’ll find opening week to our musical runs a great deal smoother.”
The next twenty minutes were spent exchanging handshakes whilst Lauretta introduced Arthur to each of the theatre staff individually. Freddie was finally introduced as the theatre manager, holder of all the keys. Whilst Fay, a sharp eyed, pretty brunette advised she was the stage assistant and understudy to Martha.
“Together, we’re your ‘A’ team, my man. Get ready, because we’re gonna work you to the bone.” Freddie began, shaking Arthur’s hand with a dazzling smile. Arthur could not help but feel this young man reminded him strongly of the pop star, Prince. He moved with musical grace and had a habit of adding a “yeeoow” to the end of his sentences when making a humorous quip.
“Don’t let him scare you off, Arthur, can we call you Art, or Artie? And what size shirt do you wear? We’ll have to work out some uniform shirts for you now that you’re part of the crew.” Fay announced, gesturing for Freddie to give them some space. Arthur could not help but smile radiantly. His other employers and colleagues were never so welcoming.
“Artie is fine,” He replied finally, “and I wear a medium dress shirt, if that helps any.”
Fay made a note in her log book signaling a thumbs up as Lauretta once again clapped sharply and drew the attention of her team. For the next few minutes she took feedback about the state of the up-coming production, making notes and giving a great deal many directions. Arthur stood by, smiling and noting how pretty her small drop pearl earrings were and the way the rest of the team seemed content if not a little stressed. She addressed each problem and complaint individually and earnestly. The team seemed at their ease around her. In time the crew dispersed to their individual tasks in groups of twos and threes.
“Freddie, I’m going to borrow Arthur a minute. I’ll send him backstage with you shortly.”
“You got it boss lady!” Freddie exclaimed, turning smoothly and strutting away in time with a melody in his head.
The theatre crew finally out of ear-shot, Lauretta turned to Arthur with her characteristic warm smile.
“So, how are we holding up, so far? All good?”
“Oh, yeah! I haven’t done anything for you yet. I’ll work very hard though.” Arthur replied sincerely.
“It’s not about working hard so much as it is about working smart. Relying on your team mates to support you and more than anything, not taking anything personally. You’ll see staff lose their temper more than once and sometimes it may appear directed toward you. It shouldn’t be. But if it is, remember, you’re in your rights to just shake it off and move onto the next task. We’re something of a family here, Arthur. Working a forty hour week means you’ll spend more time with us than you will your own flesh and blood. It’s important that you’re at your ease, even when you’re not. No matter what state you’re in or how busy we all look, I am here to listen to you.”
This sentiment seemed to bring some profound change to Arthur’s features. His smile slipped and his eyes began to sting. He looked away a moment, fumbling for his cigarettes as he whispered,
“Thank you. Really.”
“Of course.” She replied, reaching out her hand to caress his arm gently. Arthur’s smile returned, he lit up, breathed in deeply and exhaled sharply.
“Now, Arthur, I hope you don’t think this too forward of me, but, about your condition. I was giving it some thought over the weekend and I wanted to get your impression. Would you prefer I have a quiet word with the staff just to alert them or would you rather speak to them of your own accord during the breaks and such? What would make you most comfortable?”
Arthur coughed sharply, his eyes widening in disbelief.
“Oh, please, I’m sorry, I hope you don’t think I’m being rude?” Lauretta continued, concerned she’d said something off-key.
“No, no, not at all. I just got on with my cards in the past. I prefer to not draw attention to it if that’s okay with you, ma’am?” Arthur responded quietly.
“Of course, by all means. I just thought, if everyone was on the same page from the get go, it would make it easier for you. If people know what to expect.” Arthur’s eyes seemed to harden as he nodded, taking another pull of his cigarette and blowing the smoke sharply out of the corner of his mouth. Lauretta couldn’t help but feel she’d somehow overstepped herself.
“We just want you to feel comfortable, that’s all. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to find me. I’m almost always upstairs in the office. Have a great day ahead Arthur, I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Thank you, Lauretta. I appreciate it.” Arthur returned.
“Laura’s fine.”
“Laura then.” Answered Arthur with a smile.
The remainder of the day seemed to fly. Arthur diligently shadowed Freddie with a myriad of tasks. He was given a new pen, note book and clip board where he scribbled a range of instructions as he was toured around the theatre. After morning coffee break, Fay rushed to find him before he left the break room with a new walkie-talkie and a microphone head set in hand.
“Here you go honey, you’re on channel eighteen with stage hands. Push this button to call all crew and flick this switch to mute your mic. Try keep radio noise to a minimum during rehearsals. Actors lose their shit when they’re in the zone.” She punctuated the last word by gesturing inverted commas into the air, earning a laugh from Arthur who stifled himself by coughing. He wasn’t about to risk an attack in front of everyone in on his first day. He’d control this. He had to. Instead he thanked her and clipped the walkie-talkie to his belt whilst Fay rushed off taking an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter on her way out.
The evening came too soon. Arthur’s head was swimming with instructions. He’d managed to make notes of his latest directions and did a great deal of shifting, pushing and carrying of stage equipment on Freddie’s direction. The two men seemed to get on well and Freddie showed a sincere interest in asking a great deal many questions about Arthur’s personal interests that he took great pleasure in answering. Arthur was relieved come the end of the day. He’d found a friend in Freddie and Fay and looked forward to telling his mother all about it.
Come six o’clock, Lauretta found her way to the break room where she shook hands with the staff preparing to leave for the day, wishing them all the best and thanking them for their hard work. The same courtesy was applied to Arthur whom she lingered near a moment, whilst he made to take his satchel from his locker.
“Thank you, Arthur, for all your hard work today. I know there’s an awful lot to take in so quickly but your crew mates have nothing but praise for you. I’m thankful to have you in our team.”
“I’m grateful to be given the chance, honestly. It’s been a pleasure today. Are my papers okay?” Arthur replied with a questioning smile.
“Yes, they’re well in order. You can expect to pick up your first pay-cheque from my office next week. Now, go home and get some rest. Let’s see you back on deck bright and early tomorrow. Fay will have arranged some new crew shirts for you by the time you arrive.”
This was his chance. Arthur stepped forward,
“Laura, before I go, could you hold this for me?” He produced from his pocket an oversized match box and handed it to the director. She took it slowly with some trepidation.
“Arthur, this is not one of those prank boxes where if I open it I’ll be hit in the face with something, will I?”
“Haha! No, nothing like that, open it, go on.” Arthur urged, his eyes shining intently.
“Uh, okay.” Deft slender fingers gently pushed the large matchbox open to reveal within its depths a tiny pink rose bud.
“Oh how pretty!” She exclaimed lifting the flower gently and holding it to the light. Arthur furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue in exaggerated annoyance.
“Tsk, that’s not right at all. These boxes can be so unpredictable. Are you sure there’s nothing else in there?”
Perplexed, Lauretta opened out the match box fully affirming to Arthur that it was indeed empty
“May I?” He asked gently, taking the little rose bud from the lady’s fingers and shutting it back into the confines of the match box.
“Now, maybe if you blow on it, like a birthday candle?” Enchanted, Lauretta played along taking the box back into her waiting hands and blowing against it gently.
“Now try.” Arthur prompted. Nodding, the theatre director slid the match box open for a second time gasping with childlike surprise when within, where the tiny rose bud once lay was her light blue handkerchief folded into a neat little square. With a gasp she lifted the cloth free of the matchbox looking up with stunned joy. The little rose bud was nowhere to be seen.
“Arthur! That’s remarkable! What a charming trick!” She gasped exuberantly.
“I’m glad you like it.” He breathed, deeply relieved and gently taking the box from her hand.
“Really Arthur, give yourself a little time to settle into your new role, then we’re going to have to talk about organizing some sort of show time on the side for you. How does that sound?”
“Oh! Wonderful, truly! Thank you!” Arthur exclaimed brightly.
He left work that day and took the bus home in high spirits. He may have had little to offer, but his determination to succeed was great. He was tired now. Tired from a day’s solid physical and mental labor. He hoped to shower and maybe eat something. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to sleep tonight. He began to plan his next visit to Pogo’s that weekend on the bus ride home. He still wasn’t able to get a seat. But it didn’t matter so much now. He’d have a lot to tell his mother when he got home.
He’d made Lauretta smile.
Fracture 1 | Fracture 2 | Fracture 3
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There's something pure, in their final moments. When you watch Death. The light leaves their eyes.... It's intimate, primal. It grounds you. Reminds you we are not permanent on this world. Just passing shadows, moving through time and space. I weigh their sins against my hands as their soul departs. I take them in against my blade, like a lover's confession. Cradle the body with infinite respect. I am Death. Their final destination. I pray for their safe passage to the Underworld. Eventually, one day, I will take my place beside them.
“This is, uhm… You’re gonna see Keanu really turn on this sort of reptilian John Wick. It’s just, you know, the audience has been chuckling and laughing and then… John stabs a guy in throat and everyone’s like, “What?! Wha… What?” There’s a little intimacy there. It’s just…the boogeyman’s out of the bag.“ —Chad Stahelski and David Leitch, taken from the John Wick director’s commentary.
Merry Christmas Everyone
To Everyone:
This has been a hard year for all of us. We have suffered, loved and lost. Some of us will not be together this year. Some of us, are so grateful that we are. No matter where in the world you are, what you’ve been through, what’s happened, or what you’ve done: We’re here. Together. We made it. I wish you and your families a very well deserved, safe and happy holiday season. May we prosper together. Now and always,
With Love,
Small Fortunes
JOHN WICK (2014) dir. Chad Stahelski
THE MAN. THE MYTH. THE LEGEND. JOHN WICK. YOU’RE NOT VERY GOOD AT RETIRING.
Dark Academia Ask Game: I was born in 1834 to a seamstress and barber in a back-alley dilapidated Victorian townhouse in Whitechapel, London. At 14, I committed my first murder, wherein I broke into my neighbor's yard and killed his prized Australian Lorikeets because the damned things sat outside my bedroom window early of a morning and chanted their irritating songs. it was not my first murder. I since regretted my poor fortune and have worked to make amends in a new secret society. Who am I?
finding eachother with bloody hands, whispering in dark alleys and running from people who aren’t really there. conversations increasing in volume and secrets stumbling out between meaningless words, considering if friendships are even worth the effort anymore. do i want to kill you or be you? should we run away or put in the work? societies either end in glory and redemption, or snapping eachothers throats to stop more birdsong from waking us up.
....Not Quite Right.
© Assorted Artists
John Wick: Blood & Gold || I am John Wick
I am John Wick.
Excommunicato survivor.
Assassin.
Son of the Ruska Roma. Orphan of the World.
Servant of The High Table.
~ I TRADE gold for blood. For refuge. For peace.
~ I BLEED wrath. My sanity leaves me. I have you in focus.
~ I BIND souls in markers. In wedding rings. In faithful dogs.
~ I SERVE my vows. Determined purpose in high fidelity.
~ I BATTLE my conscience, your courage, the house that holds me.
~ I SURVIVE my penance. One piece at a time. Live for me. So I may take you down.
I am John Wick. My history is written in Blood & Gold. I am the first to save you. I am the last to stand at your side.
I believe in Black Angels.
I believe in Judeth Clayton. "
|| Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat ||
John Wick. Excommunicado. In effect 6:00 p.m. Eastern Standard Time.
~I do hope that Mr. Wick finds his way to safety.
He knew the rules, he broke them.He killed a man on company grounds, Charon.
~Do you expect him to make it out?
14 million dollar bounty on his head and every interested party in the city wants a piece of it, I'd say the odds are about even.
Yes, I made her wait. I shut her out. Shut her down. And it killed me to do it. I shouldn't have marked her. I shouldn't have theatened her. But I was suffering, bleeding out. She didn't see it. The way she held me under. Drowning me.
Have mercy lover. I won't survive you like this. There's a piece of the painting that's been slashed away forever. Why did it have to be the wings?
Santino rose early the following morning. Before the alarm which was a struggle, for baby Cerberus woke at five and began pawing over his chest whining in his adorable little way.
"Che bambino? Sono sveglio, devi andare?" (What baby? I'm up, you need to go?)
The puppy responded by licking at his nose and cheeks, making him laugh as he captured the little dog and hugged him to his chest. Beside him, Lalienna rolled over muttering something indiscernible in Spanish in her sleep.
"Shh, quiet bambino, you'll wake Mami. She'll be cross at us, no?" Gently as he dared, he took the little pup in his arms, kissing his sweet floppy ears and made to slide out of the bed as quietly as he dared. Mindful to not make a sound as he opened and closed the bedroom door behind him and then padded on naked feet down the stairs. Cerberus thought this early morning adventure to be very entertaining indeed. It was usually the quiet lady and big brother Christov that helped him go outside of a morning. Going with daddy was new indeed and the pup thought it all very interesting. In his little head, Cerberus had already given each of the members of the household a definitive designation complete with rank and pack order. As far as he was concerned, Mami was the lady alpha followed by daddy whom the humans named 'Santino'. He liked this man, Mami liked him a great deal too, even though he wasn't pleased about being made to sleep at her back when he wanted to be at her chest. Regardless, daddy Santino spoke kindly to him and was always gentle. As it was now, Santino deposited the little pup with a compliment about his weight and let him out the patio door to run off and attend his business in the garden. The security lights flashed on when they sensed the pup's movement, preventing the little dog from having to go in the dark. The sound of morning birdsong could be heard in the air whilst the sky was still an inky shade of darkness.
Around him the household was just beginning to rise. Whilst Panchelli, Chef and the rest of the estate's domestic staff were permitted Sunday's off duty, this particular Sunday was a special occasion with the pending arrival of the Lady Gianna and Lord Lorenzo coming to visit for dinner early that evening. Santino had promised the staff the following Monday and Tuesday off duty for their troubles and afforded they all receive double pay if they agreed to once more take to their uniforms and attend the household as a complete compliment. Panchelli ran this request by each of the maids and Chef whom all agreed happily. Two days off duty during the week was a luxury that none of the other domestic servants received and few in Rome were permitted to live in a wing of their master's manner, let alone be afforded double pay for a day. They would each sacrifice meeting their friends and family at Rome's famous churches just this once and attend a make up mass on Monday evening instead. It was an agreeable condition.
As such, the maids in their pristine blue and white uniforms, complete with frilled caps and soft house slippers padded down the stairs in double-file on their way to the kitchens where Chef was already busy preparing the morning breakfast for the servants. They paused however to bow and greet their master, some averting their eyes and blushing furiously for Santino was naked from the waist up. His disheveled curls and tattooed back with the laurel that housed the Camorra crown was a sinful revelation that had many of the young maids lusting and giggling to each other.
Santino's warm smile and gentle greeting to the girls made many swoon and curtsey lower than perhaps was necessary in a bid to hide their naughty thoughts and flushed cheeks. They didn't expect the master to be present so early. He usually did not rise until after seven in the morning and began his day with coffee that they all noted had not been prepared. The senior house maid, Marie, was first to break formation from the line and ask her master if he wished to be attended and if the young lady Miss Lalienna had also risen and wished for assistance showering or dressing?
"No, grazie Marie, Lalienna sta ancora dormendo e potrei unirmi di nuovo a lei per un'ora prima di alzarmi." (No, thank you Marie, Lalienna is still sleeping and I might go join her again for an hour before I get up.)
Just as he completed this statement, Cerberus came bounding back up the garden with a tennis ball in his mouth that he'd been looking for all of yesterday and could not remember where he had left it. His clumsy little run, coupled with the flapping of his floppy ears at each step made the girls swoon entirely. Almost all of them with except for Marie who thought it best to remain dignified, came down on their knees and called to the puppy who ran up to each of the girls happily. In his little mind, this pack of females were of far lower station than him, but classified as a heard of happy sisters, for they each patted his little head and rubbed his belly when he flopped over onto his back and teased them into giving him a scratch. One of the girls tried to pry his ball from his mouth, he let her have it reluctantly, much to the girl's joy, but he quickly followed her hands and their quick movements, with an arf of delight. Would they throw it please? He liked playing fetch.
"Please, Signore Santino, can we play with the puppy at breakfast? We promise to look after him?" Begged little Lucile in her brown curls and cherub lips.
"Certo, if he'll go with you, he's yours for a few hours." Santino acquiesced. He earned the delighted squeals of the maids that warmed his heart. He pet the little pup's head once more and cautioned him to be good and not cause the ladies any trouble. Cerberus wagged his little tail in acknowledgement, but was too excited by the girl holding his tennis ball to really understand what daddy was talking about. He was always good. And never caused any trouble. Except that time when he was in the quiet lady's room and he jumped off the bed, his paws got tangled in her cables and he's accidently knocked her laptop down to the ground with a loud thud. He'd dropped very low then and rolled immediately over onto his belly, expecting to be scolded. The quiet lady huffed and stamped about the room in some frustration righting the expensive equipment and detangling his paws. He did not earn the reprimand he thought he'd get though. Instead she merely picked him up and scuffed his ears. He was very sorry. Those loud noises that human things made were scary!
All the same, the many ladies gathered him up in their arms and took him to the kitchens were all the delicious smells came from. He'd be fed something yummy if he waited patiently and was extremely cute.
Santino shut the patio door behind him and made his way back up the winding grand staircase yawning and meaning to return to Lalienna's side. On the second story he was waylaid by Hector who had just finished working out and was now headed downstairs to swim some laps of the pool.
"Buongiorno Signore!" (Good morning sir!) "You're up early. What happened? The bed on fire?"
That earned a laugh from Santino that dismounted the staircase to the landing and came forward to give his commander an embrace. The two men exchanged a kiss and tight hug before Santino came away and rejoined,
"I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose I could go try." A chuckle from each of them as they smiled at each other knowingly. Hector was assured that his little sister Lalienna was being well treated, but he was not about to let it go to chance considering her fragile condition. He was still haunted by the questions and implications of his employer with regards to miscarriage and child birthing that Santino had alluded to earlier in the week. He was not about to allow their tenuous relationship suffer for an oversight on his part. Therefore, he bounded ahead directly.
"Actually, Signore, there's something important I've been meaning to talk to you about, man to man. Would you mind coming to my room to chat for a bit? I can make you a coffee if you want?"
"Hector, it's not even six yet, can't this wait until a little later? I was hoping to lay down a few more hours before I have to greet today. Gianna is coming later." Santino complained.
"I know, Santino, honest. It won't take very long. I just need to run a few things past you, then I'll deliver you back into Lalienna's arms. Promise."
Santino scanned Hector's face and when he saw the sincarity across his features, he raked his hand though his head and gestured the commander lead the way. He followed along until both men found their way to Hector's private rooms on the second floor. Within, Hector's apartments were furnished in modern contempory classic style with pale grey toned walls and accented cornices. Much the ex military man, Hector kept his rooms respectable at all times. The large bed that dominated the room's centre was neatly made. The writing desk, though busy was tidy and the general air of the environment was one of well kept masculine elegance. Santino made his way around the coffee table to sit upon the plush upholstered pale fabric sofa and was joined shortly thereafter by Hector who paused at his sideboard to prepare a post workout drink. He offered the mixture to Santino who wrinkled his nose at the glass and waved it away.
"You're getting soft, amgio." Hector warned.
"Quasi." (Hardly.) Santino replied, with a crude gesture at his groin that made the commander laugh.
"So, what's on your mind that you won't let me go back to bed to my woman?" Santino inquired at last.
"Your woman." Hector replied, earning a characteristic brow raise from his employer that made him laugh.
"You can't have her. I saw her first." Santino returned matter-of-factly.
"Two things," Hector began sitting closer to his employer. He'd long since learned that the best way to disarm Santino if not by sheer force of will, was to use basic sensuality do the talking for him. As Santino seemed to reciprocate male attentions, he thought it might be a good card to play.
"The first is, I found a discreet clinic in town through the Soretti's. Their daughter works in the laser skin correction office and has agreed to remove Lalienna's... eh... scaring without asking any personal questions."
Santino considered this a moment. Noting Hector's proximity and bristling under the heat of the other man's eyes. He watched him take a drink of that vulgar post workout potion and nodded his ascent.
"So make the calls. Book her the first available appointment." Hector thanked his boss and promised he would.
"And the other thing?" Santino prompted.
"Well, Signore. The other thing, is intimate."
"I'm not selling, so don't ask." Santino replied, earning a flushing laugh from Hector that couldn't help feel slightly uncomfortable when his employer made vague references to propositioning. He was already aware that at least Christov viewed Santino with warmer eyes than most. He however could not play that card to direct completion. He drank down the remainder of his glass to regain his composure and went on all the same.
"No, Signore, really. It's more than that. Only... Ares."
"Fuckin' Ares."
"Yeah, Santino, it's a big house, but nothing keeps a secret for long. Look, obviously you and Lalienna are tight and that causes a bit of contention in terms of the family. Y'know?"
"I know, I know. I shouldn't be dating a woman hired as a guard. If it makes you feel better, we were sleeping together before she accepted the job."
"That's not what I heard."
"You're going to take my word for it anyway, and get to the point, Hector. Jesus."
"No boss, Hector will do. I'm not up to the walking on water bit yet." His attempt to diffuse the heat between them obviously worked. He earned his boss' laughter and that was a good start. With a deep breath, he carried on. For Lalienna's sake.
"Signore, look, I know, it's not my place to tell you how to run your love life, and that's definitely not what I'm trying to do here. But, what I mean to tell you is, Lali's young, man. Real young. And you know that not all girls fall well into the submissive role that takes the whip like some of us guys want them to." Santino tensed beside him at these words. His body language growing defensive. So Hector played the sensuality card a little harder. He rested his hand upon Santino's cotton covered thigh and gave the firm muscle a squeeze that made the younger man tense for another reason entirely. He became passive and listened for Hector did not give him the chance to interrupt.
"Look, we all know, that like some of us, you like to play rough and hard with the girls. You have in your past, you made mistakes and flowers bleed a little more than they should. There's lines, man. Just like us as family, there's lines on what a lover is willing to take before they consider it domestic abuse." He took his warm hand a little higher against Santino's thigh and lowered his voice drawing close so that his employer had to listen intently to what was being said next.
"We're worried for her. That's all I'm saying. She's not the kind of girl that will take a beating laying down, Signore. And you shouldn't make her do it just because it feels right to you. We know you love her. But we need to ask you to be mindful of her consent and not drag her into any of those deep BDSM scenes without her telling you she wants to explore them."
"Non ho bisogno di questa lezione." (I don't need this lecture.) Santino whispered back.
"It's not a lecture, Signore. It's just me asking you to be careful with her. Seriously. Stupid as it sounds, don't take her raw and finish inside her. It's too risky. A baby would only slow her down and pull you out of the game. Lorenzo won't like it, it's too early."
"Hector, please.."
"Shh, Santino, let me finish. Listen to me..." His caress of his employer's thigh relented, now Hector grabbed the other man's chin and held his eyes, drawing in close, millimeters from the other's lips so as Santino could almost taste his breath.
"If you want to keep her, and you want her keep coming back to your bed, abandon your whips and knives. Give her everything another man never has and never will. Give her your caresses, your massages, keep her fed, keep her happy. If you're going to love her, let it be on her terms. Women... women can become incredibly malleable to a man's desires if they're well treated. You know this. You saw her eat last night. She struggled with her plate but she did it for you. And when you praised her, she lit up like the sun. Just like the puppy. Please... Santino, please. I'm begging you. We like her. All of us. You found a diamond that day in London. We should polish and keep her. Imagine what she could do for the Camorra if she's kept satisfied? Imagine what she'd do for you if you only slow it down?"
Santino was only then aware that he had been holding his breath. He nodded, slowly. The heat of his commander's eyes. The proximity between them was becoming overwhelming. He pulled away at last, getting to his feet and wishing he had a cigarette.
"Yeah, yeah I hear you." He admitted at last. "It was a mistake, what I did to her in London. I know. And we're only now making amends for it. I wasn't expecting her to ever return to me willingly after how harshly I treated her, but she did. Of her own accord. And she was hurt last fortnight at the party, when I said no to her and pushed her away. She looked so sick."
"And scared, Santino. And pissed off because of the kiss with Christov. I know you guys were tight once too."
"Not at any more. It was just a phase."
"You should tell Christov that."
Santino stopped at the sideboard and poured himself a glass of water.
"He say something to you?" He inquired.
"Enough. Marcus has been looking after him last week. Those two have an understanding. And I already had a word to Tony and Curtis to keep it cool in public."
"Those idiots. I don't want any lapses in front of Gianna of our father. Lorenzo's leaving the palace to meet Lalienna especially. I want tonight to be perfect. No fuck ups. I want you in uniforms. All of you."
"Ares will want a tie." Hector hazarded.
"Ares wants a smack on the mouth if she's not in a uniform skirt like Lalienna. Red and black." Santino retorted. He wasn't adverse to Ares' boyish sense of uniform code but in front of his father he wanted the impression to be a great deal more formal.
"Red and black, Signore. We know the drill. Relax. Tonight's going to be fine. Panchelli and the girls have the house gleaming. We've checked over the stocks a hundred times or more. The rest of the gangs are keeping steady and Rome's working the way it should be. It's going to be just fine. You keep stressing like this you're going to start losing hair." Said Hector with a warm smile.
Reassured, Santino thanked Hector for the drink and excused himself back to his bedroom upstairs on the third floor. Hector had given him a lot to think about. No sooner did he hit the landing than Ceberus came running up the stairs with two gigging maids in toe. The ladies explained that he'd been a good boy and was enjoying the attention but was growing restless and wanted to be returned to his rightful owners.
Thanking them for their kindness, Santino lifted the pup in his arms and returned to his bedroom shutting the door quietly behind him and setting the pup down on the bed where the little dog immediately snuggled under his Mami's arms. Tired still, Tino sought to take residence beside the young woman quietly, mindful to not move the mattress. The moment he lay down her arms took his chest with a murmer of the word, "Papi."
He embraced his lover and closed his eyes but in truth he did not sleep another moment. The only thing he could consider was calling the chemist later that morning and making arrangements for his lover to be put on the pill.
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