Aggrivation..
#4 of Lunar
© All characters and storylines surrounding these characters belong to me, Eben Black..
Kane was late. Eleven fifteen flashed across my mobile as I checked for messages or missed phone calls. Nothing. He knew I had been excited about this show for months now, and had been even more eager when Danielle told me we'd be covering the fashion shoot. I huddled, snow thick underfoot, the boots thick enough to keep the cold out, that striped scarf bundled up around my neck and half my face buried. Mmmm. The sweet smell of coconut. I inhaled deep and closed my eyes. I wondered what he was doing. He'd messaged me earlier, a simple text message that had made me smile broad and childlike. 'I'll make you some cookies. What flavour? x'. I'd asked for vanilla as he had yet to make those. He loved cooking and I tended to broaden my taste palette so he could experiment and develop new things. So far not one thing he'd made had turned out bad. I buried the phone back inside the huge pocket of the leather jacket and then smoothed a hand along the motorbike that I was perched upon. It was still warm. The Harley Davidson had been a wonderful idea, London's rush hour tended to end a lot quicker since now it was a matter of navigating between cars instead of joining a queue of disgruntled and annoyed drivers and passengers alike.
I gazed down at the motorbike's smooth bright red paint job. The name "Roseanne" scrawled in professional metallic scripture along the hub. The motorbike had belonged to Snow's father who, like mine, had passed on. He had had a friend who worked as a mechanic fix up the bike and then handed me the keys two Christmas' ago. I'd been an avid motorbike lover for years now, and had always wanted a Davidson, but had never taken time to purchase a proper, old-fashioned, authentic one like this one. The fact it had been Snow's Father's old bike meant alot to me too. Snow must have really trusted me to bestow a present like this on me.
"Oi! Eben!" a cheerful voice beckoned. I looked up and down the street. Kane walked at a hurried pace, waving a hand and looking apologetic. Kane was a leopard, standing at around five-foot-ten, he was built a little too muscular for his height, but he'd assured me the ladies loved that about him. I'd feigned ignorance to the comment. He had a unique colour scheme going on where his fur was concerned. He'd taken to fur-tanning, an interesting idea that Salons were using at the moment. It was basically hair dye for fur. It seemed Kane wanted to stand out and now had dark blue fur, black spots and from what I remembered the last time we'd been swimming together he had white stomach and chest fur too. Right now he was huddled in a black trench coat, black slacks and boots similar to mine. Great minds and all that. He had a golden loop through one ear and grinned bright whiter than white teeth at me. His wide, green eyes screamed their apologies as he joined me at the Davidson's side. "I cannot apologise enough," he assured me.
"You could make an attempt?" I suggested.
He frowned at me and then said, "All parked up? Lets head inside. I hope they have some form of heating." I checked the chain that bound the Davidson to the lamppost I'd decided to park under and followed. Kane lead us down a side street and soon we were standing outside an enormous warehouse. It was an old storage warehouse with one of those enormous doors that opened upwards and rattled. Artificial walls had been raised all over the floor of the warehouse, dividing the three cat-walks up and some booths where make-up artists and fashionistas were showing off their latest techniques and ideas. There was a consession stand and a few food stalls here and there too. The whole warehouse was warm too considering the door had been raised enough for people to step inside. Kane unbuttoned the trench he'd worn and I saw a glimpse of a black no-nonsense dress shirt under. His shirt was unbuttoned to his stomach so the blended white and blue fur stood out more. No wonder he'd worn black. He was out to impress someone I suppose. Then again Kane was all about impressing people in general.
I grinned at the thought and loosened the scarf around my neck before unzipping the jacket and gazing around in awe at the various people. There were some regular folk here and there, but there were celebrities dotted round and recognisable models that I'd even had the priviledge to meet once or twice. The fashion world is a shallow one, a world of vain impressions made by vain people. I wasn't here for the people though. I was here for the fashion. I loved the new modern fashion that had been adopted by Europe and Britain in the last few years.
"You wanna grab a drink first before we get to work?" Kane asked.
I nodded and followed him again, slipping out of the jacket but keeping the scarf draped around me.
In moments we were standing against a bar at the far end of the warehouse, a barman placed our drinks for us and Kane paid him. He had his regular Jack Daniels, while I stayed with orange juice. I was driving.
"So how are things going with you and that guy you moved in with?" Kane asked suddenly.
"You mean Snow?" I replied with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah him."
"Why do you wanna know?"
"What? I can't ask my best friend how things are going at home now?" Kane asked looking startled.
"Don't get me wrong, Kane, I'm not offended, its just you have never really liked him."
"That's because the pussycat is too damn perfect!"
I laughed as he grinned at me. "Always expecting the worst, are you?" I asked.
He raised his glass and grinned wider. "Ever the optimist, I am."
"Your an idiot is what you should be."
"But seriously, its been months since you got together, and nothing has gone wrong? Nothing at all?"
I shook my head. "If it helps I cannot stand the fact he's always at home when I get home?"
Kane's ears piqued as he stammered, "R-Really?"
I grinned, "No! I love the fact he's there when I get home. Its like having a housewife. A real hunky, strong, muscular housewife."
Kane smirked and gave me a solid look with those green eyes, "He looks good in an apron then?"
"What would you care? Your a hetero remember?" I stammered, pushing down the blush that had blossomed.
"I can admire can I not?" he replied as he sipped his drink.
"As long as its just admiring. If your gonna cross into the dark side then find your own man," I grinned as I spoke.
"Ah well," Kane murmured, he drained his glass and shuddered from the after taste. JD does tend to have that sharp kick that can linger on the tongue. "Right then, where do you wanna begin?"
"The cat walks are seperated by three numbers. You take number one, I'll take number three, and we'll meet in the middle in an hour?" I suggested.
"Sounds like a plan, catwoman!" he grinned.
"Don't you mean Batman? Sounds like a plan Batman?"
"True, but I think you'd much prefer the catsuit considering the company you keep," he laughed as he grabbed his things and left. I frowned after him but couldn't help smile. Ever immature, was our Kane.
I drained my orange juice and headed for cat-walk number three. It was the second longest and had some of the new fashion ideas from a few well known fashion designers. I stepped around the designated wall and met more avid fashion fans, cameras flashed and sparked as the models walked and strutted one by one up and down, turning at the end and pausing for photographs before leaving without a word, just a cool, calm and level-headed stare. A smile here and there reminded you they were indeed human. Most of them were also feline I'd noticed. It must have been the feline liquid grace that allowed the women to sway in time with the heavy bassline of the music. In moments I had unhooked the satchel beside me and had pulled the small digital camera from inside. Danielle wanted pictures for a magazine deal she was organising, not a proper fashion shoot. This would do the job. I moved in and out of the crowd, taking snapshots, close-ups, even catching the eyes of some models as they paraded the wares they were donning for the event. The music changed and the tempo dropped, the clothing line shifted, now as the models walked, they walked draped in what I assumed was an autumn/winter collection. Thick furred scarves, high collars and heavy boots seemed to be the main focus. It didn't matter that one male cheetah strutted down in a big furred scarf, denim jeans and hiking boots. He stood at the end of the runway and his presence there was commanding, dominating almost. He playfully grinned for the cameras as they popped and flashed madly. He turned a second later and was walking back, still in command as he did so. His spotted fur seemed to shimmer in the spotlights.
As he neared the backstage area, his glance shifted and he gazed across the crowd. I took the picture I needed. I knew who he was. He was an up and coming model named Aleksander. He was wanted for most fashion shoots in London it seemed. And I could understand the reason behind that. The man oozed confidence and didn't look half bad either. He was sleak, slender, but muscular, muscular enough to let you know his sport was running and with a bit of weight lifting he'd bulked the arms a little. I gazed down at the picture on the digital display and had taken the shot so that he was staring right down the lens at me. Those confident golden eyes looked curious but calm.
Danielle would love that particular shot, and Kane would hate me for it too.
More models strutted out and back again. The music changed again and the line of clothing would change direction. Swimsuits, summer ranges, the radical new vogue line was also thrown in there. Soon the models slowed and I remembered that I was meeting with Kane at the other runway. The largest runway in the whole show. I'd also heard rumours that one of the most adored and renowned fashion designers would be modelling her own work. Once a model herself, she was one of the fashion scene's most loved idols. I was a major fan of her work too.
I soon found Kane, standing amongst the crowd. The previous clothing line was ending.
"Did you take any photographs of these?" I whisper-shouted over the loud bassline music that the models were walking to.
"Nah! I saved what little memory I have for the final act!"
"Point taken!"
The music changed again and the whole area darkened. Pale red spotlights danced across the high cat walk and then a piano echoed in the dark. The piano played for a solid minute solo and then the bass hit. I listened to the gentle music clash with the heavy bassline that was jumping alongside the key strokes and noticed that it strangely worked together. Then one by one the models walked out, sleak, slender female leopards, black in colour wearing varied styles of the same red dress. It looked more like a gown, one version clung to the body at the bust and hips and then spilled behind her like a trail of blood, while another was more of a summer dress, lifting all the model's cleavage and splitting upward along one side to reveal that black furred thigh of the woman. Each dress passed in different styles about twenty times, and then the men's formal options padded on. Tuxedoes, suits, a number of simple dress shirts and pressed trousers, all done in a similar dark red colour as the dress. Some men wore top hats and some had insane hair styles to match the insane designs they wore. The last model fizzled out as the cameras slowed their ravenous flashes for more. All went still as the music continued. Then to a round of applause she stepped out.
Vanessa Du Von. Slender, but curvacious around the hips and bust. The woman was rumoured to be hitting her forties, but looked mid-twenties. A small part of me knew that was down to plastic surgeries. Her sleak black fur, an almost ominous sight to behold. Her long leopard legs hidden beneath the fish-tail dress. It clung like a second skin in purest white around her bust and waist and upper legs, but the bottom flourished in a wave of black froth. The same froth was layered along the bustline and had even been used to bind her hair in that long no-nonsense ponytail of dark chocolate-brown that cascaded down behind her. Her slender hands fastened at her waist, while a confident smile curved those lips. She was beautiful there was no doubt, but something told me Kane was more interested than me. She stopped at the end of the cat walk and turned, jutting out one hip and bending at the waist to show her full cleavage. Cameras flashed and she relished at the ruckus she was causing.
"Loves herself, this one!" a stray photographer chuckled as he snapped away at the model before him.
"She has good reason to," I heard Kane murmur under his breath. He had his camera raised and was snapping away like the rest of us. I clicked until my digital display flashed NO MORE MEMORY. I lowered the camera and checked out the photographs. Beautiful. Beautiful is what Danielle would be describing these shots as when I showed her.
"I'm done," I whisper-shouted over Kane's shoulder.
"I still have some memory left. Do you wanna go and I'll finish up here?" he called back. I nodded and patted his shoulder. He continued his barrage of Vanessa Du Von as she danced back up the cat-walk.
I had slipped the camera back inside the satchel and had wrapped the scarf tighter around me as I approached the Davidson bound to the lamppost. I popped open the storage and took out the helmet from inside. It irritated both my ears when I wore the damn thing, but I was more paranoid about crashes than head-hair and ear-ache. I swung a leg over the bike and stradled it like I'd done a thousand times before. I unfastened the chain that bound the bike and then sat back, balling up the chain and slipping it inside my pocket. I pulled out my phone and punched in the number for home. I listened as the phone rang out. No response. Snow must have been taking a shower. I smiled at the thought of his experimental baking exploding and him being plastered in liquified cookies. I blushed at the thought of him showering too and touched the helmet to my forehead. Now was not the time. I needed to stop off at Danielle's and drop off the camera before I headed home. I slipped on the helmet without a word, revved the engine of the Davidson, slammed down the visor and then gripped the handles. I was off. Zipping down all the main roads and in between traffic, headed straight for Danielle's agency office.
Hudson and co. That was what Danielle had decided to call the agency. Not the most glamorous name in the photography business, but Danielle had assured me that pictures made money, not company names. I had bound up the Davidson to another lamppost outside and had hurried inside. Danielle was an old friend and had been for years, but all I wanted was to go home and try these vanilla cookies. I walked up the staircase, pressing the number for home on my phone again. Still no answer. What could he be doing? Had he popped out for something at the local supermarket perhaps? I shrugged and slipped the phone back inside the pocket as I knocked on Danielle's door. I listened and then heard an almost bored voice say, "Come on in, Eben."
I turned the handle and stepped inside. Danielle was sat at her desk, laptop closed beside her hands as she steepled the fingers and gazed at me with cool, almost seductive eyes. There was no lust there, just Danielle's eyes.
Danielle was a lioness. Her proud attitude towards life should have been a big enough clue. She was sleak, curved where it counted, and beautiful, but had never pursued a fashion career. When asked, she'd said she had no time for idle nonsense about lighting and how shadows fell during a photo shoot. Part of me wondered if she'd modelled and had simply not enjoyed it? Either way it was her past, not mine. I handed her the camera and waited whilst she glanced through the pictures. She eased back into the leather swivel chair, her blonde bob haircut swayed at the slightly lengthened tips while she gazed down with those big brown eyes at the images.
I gazed around her surroundings, her office, much like herself, was no-nonsense and everything you'd expect an office to be. All metal, wood and fake plants. Certificates suspended on the walls that depicted her child's record of attendance from Reception all the way to Secondary School. I'd met Alice, and she was a delight if not more mature than her age permitted. Like her mom, she was no-nonsense too. Crack a joke that wasn't amusing, she could tell you, no problem. I smiled at the memory of what happened when Kane met Alice. He'd made a joke about her mom, and Alice had merely explained that a man Kane's age should never make jokes about women. Kane hadn't been able to rid himself of his age complex since then. He'd been paranoid about his looks, and on the flip side had started dating older women too. Was it because if he was seen with an older woman he'd look younger in comparison? That was probably spot on actually.
"Is that Aleksander?"
I snapped back to attention and said, "Yeah. He was on cat-walk three, autumn/winter seasonal line I think."
"Nice work, Eben. How did Kane do?" she asked.
"He still had some more oppurtunities to take pictures, when I left Vanessa was still on stage, loving the limelight," I explained as I leaned against her desk and crossed my arms.
"That's Vanessa for you, give her a spotlight and she'll milk it for hours. Stunning woman though," Danielle admitted as she looked over the Vanessa images I'd taken.
"Is that everything then?" I asked.
"Yes. Oh, wait, no. A man dropped by earlier while you were out at the shoot. I forget his name, but I handed him your contact details. A possible client perhaps?" she shrugged as she spoke.
"Sounds about right. Thanks Danielle. I appreciate it," I replied with a broad smile. I stood up straight and headed for the door. I had the door half open when Danielle stopped me.
"Eben?"
"Danielle?"
"Your doing alright, right? At home, I mean?" she asked.
The question had caught me off guard, I grinned and replied, "Yeah, why do you ask?"
"No reason. You've just had your face on the floor whenever you go quiet. Like your thinking about something dreadful?"
"Nah, I'm fine. At least, I think I'm fine," I chuckled as I opened the door and stepped out. "Thanks for asking though, Danielle," I added before closing the door.
"Anytime!" I heard her call back.
I smiled and headed out. Home-time! I pulled my phone from inside my pocket and dialled the home number for the third time. It rang out and out and out. No answer. I took a deep breath. What was that man doing? Paranoia. That's all it was. Paranoia. He was fine, I was sure of it. I headed out and unfastened the Davidson. Part of me was thinking Snow was fine, but another part of me, a shadowed, hidden part of me was thinking all the worst scenarios it seemed. I stradled the bike and sat there, helmet in hand and took a second deep breath, I exhaled and slipped the helmet on. I revved the engine and turned, wheel screeching before I shot off home.
I made it home in record time. I think at one point I'd even forgotten there were laws in London against speeding. I even remember curbing it at one point. How had I not been arrested? I locked up the Davidson in the car park. I had a reserved room designed for the motorbike. It had a locked door and was rigged with an alarm that would seal the garage if anyone broke in. Kind of like how a bank will go into lockdown at the push of a button. Seemed too extreme, but I valued that bike more than anything else, not because it was a beautiful bike, but because it had come from a beautiful feline. I headed up via the elevator and found I was rushing out the double doors before it had even opened fully. I walked rapid down the corridor and soon broke into a jog. I found the front door and slid the key into the keyhole. Why had he not answered the phone? Paranoia, it was paranoia, nothing else. But why? My mind panicked, then reassured itself, then panicked again. I pushed open the door and called, "Snow!"
"Eben?"
I exhaled, a deep sound of relief as the man I loved padded from inside the bedroom. His hand touched the door frame as he smiled at me.
"Something wrong? You look flustered?" he asked.
"Phone. Why didn't you answer the home phone?" I damn-near demanded.
He looked startled and then smiled, "The volume is broken remember. It hardly even rings out anymore. Still works fine, you can have conversations, but you need to see that someone's calling now."
I stared at him, and realised I'd completely forgotten. I took a deep breath and reached for him. He met me in the middle as I slipped out of the jacket and dropped it on the laminant floor. His arms encircled as much of me as his strong frame could. He cuddled me close and kissed my forehead. "We need a new phone," I breathed as I kneaded his back with my fingers. He shuddered at the touch and nodded. I looked up at him, and touched my lips to his. "Did you make the cookies in the end?" I asked. He nodded and looked over at the kitchenette island countertop. A ceramic plate of vanilla-flavoured cookies resided there, still warm I guessed. "Any good?"
"It was a very good idea on your part," he replied as he kissed my forehead again and released me. He padded across to the island and picked one up, taking a bite and nodding at me, "Yum!"
I followed him and took one in hand, I smelled the sweet scent of vanilla and smiled. "They smell delicious."
"Oh, that reminds me. Someone knocked on for you earlier on?" he said suddenly.
"Someone knocked on?" I repeated, "Who was it?"
"Some man, said he was an old friend and was in town. Wanted to catch up and see how you were doing," Snow explained as he held his cookie between his teeth and opened the refridgerator. He pulled out a huge carton of milk and poured himself a glass before replacing the carton and shutting the door. He touched his rump to the edge of the countertops, swallowed his mouthful of cookie and sipped his milk while he grinned at me with those beautiful cerulean eyes.
"Did he give you a name or phone number?" I asked as I padded toward the bedroom. I needed a shower and my pyjama bottoms.
"Yeah. He said his name was Ethan and he'll be in touch."
I stopped dead. Ethan? "Ethan?" I repeated, looking across at the tiger, wide-eyed and suddenly feeling dazed and confused.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he said his name was Ethan. Someone you know?" Snow asked, he added, "Babe, you look pale, you alright?"
"No, no, no," I murmured, I started pacing, the cookie in my hand cracked and splintered as I tensed up, "What's he doing here? What in Gods name does he want!"
"Eben? Eben? Whoa, whoa, whoa," Snow padded across and rested his hands on my shoulders, "Who is Ethan?" he asked, looking calm and collected in amidst the madness I was now under.
"He's my...he was my older brother..." I stammered. Tears burned at the back of my eyes. Snow looked down at me confused a little, then his eyes widened and he slowly embraced me again. I had told Snow about Ethan once before we moved in together. I had told how Ethan blamed me for our parents' death. How he blamed me for our mother's murder. How he blamed me for our father's suicide. I sank, sobbing at the thought the one man I never wanted to see again was now back in my life. I bundled my hands in the material of Snow's shirt as we sank together onto the cool floorboards underneath. He cradled me against him and ran fingers through my hair.
"Eben? Eben, whatever he wants, babe, I won't let him harm you again like he did last time," he assured me.
I sat upright and could breath again as the sobs died a little around the edges. I touched a hand to his face and breathed, "Some attacks aren't always designed to hurt a person's body, Snow. How can you save my mind from him? He swore he'd hurt me if he ever saw me again, he swore I'd be with our parents if we ever so much as spotted one another in amongst a crowd. And now he's here? In London? What for? He knows where I work? He knows where I live? And he even has my num..." I went quiet as the mobile phone inside the leather jacket began ringing out. Snow squeezed me against him as we both glared across at the bundled jacket on the floor.
Ethan? Ethan, what could you possibly want with me now?