The Pink Spinda

The Pink Spinda
Chapter Six

Steven was a pampered individual. He always had been, and what was probably expected of the only child to a billionaire. He’d lived in a lush mansion, enjoyed the best education and received only the finest care. Even now, in his late twenties, he ate only the finest cuisine and drank only the most expensive wine while reading the highest-of-brow newspaper.

In fact, Steven enjoyed a lot of things Wallace couldn’t quite get his head around. He sat at the other side of their breakfast table in their pristine kitchen, watching the man. Steven had had all the things growing up that Wallace had observed only from afar. With a small sigh he looked down at his plate again.

Some foreign food he was unfamiliar with. He’d been in the service of the Stone family for longer than he could remember - his whole family had been - being fed on the cheapest of foods. Only when had he started his relationship with the younger Stone had he been subjected to this… unique cuisine. He prodded it with his fork watching it wobble; he’d been happier with his bread and butter, quite frankly, but didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He ate everything Steven cooked up.

His usual routine of worrying about what he would be served for breakfast had been interrupted with worries about secret phone calls in the middle of the night. He wasn’t stupid. That had clearly been the mafia at his lover’s door. And it clearly involved himself and Erika. Steven had no other reason to involve himself with such dangerous people - he’d been backed into a corner and this was the only way out. His father must have been putting on the pressure for Steven to resort to something so drastic so quickly. Cynthia was a dangerous woman!

“Are you alright, Wallace?”

His head snapped up at his name. Steven’s eyes glanced at his hand then back to his face again and he realised his frustration must have been showing. Uncurling his sudden grip from his fork he smiled back at the grey haired man.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want,” Steven indicated the neglected plate. “I read it was good for a tired body. Maybe I didn’t cook it right?”

“Oh no, it’s very nice!” Wallace declared and took a big bite to prove his point. It really wasn’t nice.

Steven smiled with a tilt of the head. “I’m glad. Seems you’re getting your energy back.”

“I am.”

The room lapsed into silence again, the only noise that of the birds singing outside and that of Wallace’s fork hitting the plate. Wallace was unsure of what to say next. It was a comfortable silence so he decided to watch his lover.

The man looked tired. It had been little less than a week and Steven already seemed ready to drop. Despite his trim suit and confident posture his eyes looked tired. Maybe it wasn’t anything a normal person would notice but it was certainly something Wallace would notice. His eyes were still bright and still intelligent, but the cheerful glances he would throw about to work colleagues, to staff… to his lover; they had all seemed so dull lately.

He was under a lot of pressure and Wallace wanted to get back to work as soon as possible to help alleviate some of that stress. Even though he wasn’t looking forward to returning to the Pink Spinda he felt he belonged there. Only Karen and Lance were currently active and they were hardly the types to take on his clients - the club had to be loosing a lot of money. If he could return it would restore some of that lost normality. He knew Steven didn’t like him taking on clients, but that had been something they had both accepted when they had begun seeing each other.

So he decided.

“I’ll start working tomorrow.”

Steven looked over his newspaper at the blunt statement. “It’s only been three days! You can’t be feeling well enough to return yet! Give it at least a couple more days.” He looked worried.

A large smile broke out across Wallace’s face as he rose slowly from his chair. He stood to his full height with hands clasped against his chest. “I feel fine! I think a good nights sleep and a nice bath did the trick!”

“But…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer and I need your permission to return so you better agree with me,” Wallace drawled as he bent over his lover, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips softly against the older man’s. Doctors orders be damned.

Steven made an unintelligible noise in reply as Wallace left the room, thoughts of helping his colleagues and Erika whirling around his turquoise head.

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

Will was secretly enjoying the suffering his two friends were experiencing. He wasn’t a sadist but they were both just so entertaining. He himself had never been able to hold his alcohol and thinking about both Lance and Karen hung over back at the flat, he was glad he’d declined to drink last night. Honestly he couldn’t see the point in it. Why would people spend so much money on alcohol only to bring it back up again a few hours later? … Lance would not be happy about the state of his flat.

As he made his way to the nearest pharmacy Slateport was still bustling with life. The holidaymakers still had a couple months of the summer rush the city had to offer. After that it would start getting cold. As he timidly aimed for the pharmacy he had to battle against the crowd but being out in the beaming sun, feeling the heat beat down on him, he was happy.

Once again, as he stood across the street from the shop, the pharmacy was devoid of all life. He couldn’t understand it. People passed the entrance but not one entered. Surely they’d need sun block or plasters or something? How did the place stay in business? Both Lance and Karen told him it was because of the clerk, but the blonde man behind the counter there had always been nothing but courteous to him.

He shook his head. He had to get something to help his friends with their hang over. Apparently neither of them had had the foresight to buy any prior to their night out.

The doors parted as he approached and the blast of cool air washed over him. It made him shiver.

“Good morning,” the clerk greeted him.

Will simply smiled in reply. In a well practiced routine he headed for the same isle he did after every time his two friends burnt their selves out. He selected the very same brand as every other previous time (and some mouth wash) and approached the counter. The blonde man stood with a lazy expression behind the till. The man looked over the items.

“Will, are you alright?” he asked. Will could almost detect a hint of worry in the question, but it was lost behind the accent.

“It‘s for Karen and Lance. You know them,” he laughed lightly. “I’m sure you’re sick of hearing about them from me.”

“Mmmm. You seem like good friends,” Morty commented as he tapped the price up on the till. “Friends are precious things. Do not lose them.”

Will looked confused for a second, “uhm, no, of course not.” The blonde suddenly locked eyes with him.

“How have you been lately?”

This was probably one of those moments that the others had told him about. One of those moments the clerk freaked them out. Will didn’t see it. All he saw was a good acquaintance asking of his wellbeing.

“I’ve been good.” The lie was out of his mouth before he even had time to think about it. The blonde man just scrutinised him further -- his blue eyes probing. Will smiled back. It wasn’t entirely a lie; he was happy for the moment.

“How is work?” Morty asked.

All the colour drained for Will’s face. The clerk hadn’t placed his items in a bag yet. “I… don’t work.” He hoped it hadn’t sounded as fake out loud as it had in his head.

“Why not?”

Will clasped his hands. “Can’t find a job,” he stated sternly, surprised at his own tone. “I’m not skilled in any particular area-”

“Nothing to do with health problems then?” Morty asked over his answers as he placed the items in a bag. “that’ll be twenty-five pokecredits exactly,” he looked at Will.

Will furrowed his brow. Deciding to ignore the question he riffled through his wallet and handed over the money. He took the offered plastic bag and nodded in acknowledgement but declined to smile - a rude gesture by his standards - and quickly left the store. He disappeared into the crowded streets hurriedly

Alright, so maybe Morty wasn‘t creepy but he was certainly intrusive! How could he have the nerve to ask such a personal question?! Will stormed down the street and in the general direction of the flat. Certainly he did have some problem - he’d been tired a lot recently; not had any energy - but it certainly wasn’t anything he’d discuss with a shopkeeper he hardly knew! If the man was that rude to everyone he could understand the place always being deserted!

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

The room was dank and cramped. It was unpleasant but not entirely unliveable. It had a single bed and sink and toilet. There was no window however. The walls were cold and dingy and the only gap in the metal walls a barred air vent. Warm air was blowing from it. By all intents it was a cell. She was being kept in a cell.

And she had agreed to do so.

Erika pulled her legs up to rest her chin on her knees. She sat on the bed in the corner of the room. She wanted to sit beside the vent but the bed was bolted to the floor and the floor was cold and uninviting, slightly damp to the touch. If there had been a window it would have been foggy with condensation. The whole room was humid.

For just under a week now she’d been kept in this cell. A man or woman would come three times a day to pass her meals through a slated window in the door, but other than them she had had no company or human contact. For that she didn’t know whether to be grateful or not.

Tightly gripping her legs she pressed her forehead to her knees. How long had it been? With no access to the outside world she had lost all presence of time; only the regulatory meals passed to her gave her any indication of what time it may have been.

“Mother…”

Her voice sounded weak to her own ears. Feeble and weak. She had refused herself to cry yet her eyes burned and her shoulders shook in light mock convulsions. So many things were whirling round her head -- she had nothing more to do than think in a cell containing little more than herself. So many thoughts plagued her; why was this happening to her?

She had a fairly good idea who was doing this to her…

“A Pomeg berry is a small red berry with a yellow stigma.”

“Huuh,” Wallace cupped his chin. He took a quick glance around the vast field of berries before turning to his companion. “Which bush does it grow on? These are all starting to look similar to me.”

Erika chuckled. “It’s a only a small little thing,” she bent slightly to hover a hand over the height she estimated it at, “yellow and red. It’s quite an easy bush to spot but the berries are small and blend in well with the leafs.”

With a nod Wallace brushed his hand together, “right!”

Erika giggled again at her friend’s determination as he wandered away from her and stooped occasionally to inspect a particular bush. She knew botany was hardy his area of expertise and though his eyes looked tired they had a glimmer that told her this was important to him. Why, she had no idea. Thinking carefully on it she could only guess it was because Will had been one of very few people to continue treating him politely since his relationship with Steven had begun.

And Wallace held his friends very highly.

A small persistent tugging of her thigh-length jumper pulled her from her thoughts as she peered down over her laced basket at her most trusted companion. Gloom stood at her feet still tugging her jumper and holding up a berry for her. She smiled at the Pokemon and slowly knelt by its side.

“What have you got there?” she asked it with a gentle and caring tone. The Grass Pokemon waved the berry at her proudly.

“Gloom, gloooom!”

Erika inclined her head and took the berry from it’s hands. “Sorry Gloom, this is a Leppa berry, see?” she giggled lightly as the Pokemon’s face dropped instantly. “But it’s red and yellow! You’re getting good at identifying berries now, just a little more practice, yes. See if you can find a Pomeg berry, okay?”

The Pokemon nodded sharply, its quest reinstated after failure, before it waddled off as awkwardly as Gloom did.

Rising again Erika took a deep breath of the clean countryside air. It was nice to leave the busy city life every now and then. The farmland and orchards outside Slateport were surprising in their proximity to a city of such a size - the pollution seemed to wane out as the suburbs dispersed enabling a sprawling orchard of berry trees and bushes of various types. Most of her free time was spent in the fields around her hometown, a mere half hour train journey away.

The fields were vast and yielded such a variety her Gloom was being trained exceedingly fast in identifying different berries and remembering the trees and bushes they grew from. Her Pokemon was her greatest and most precious thing. Without Gloom’ help she’d never had been able to mix the various potions she served her mother and Will. And yet Pomeg berries were becoming quiet rare. Hopefully Gloom would find one quickly.

Thinking of her Pokemon she hadn’t even begun searching herself yet, Erika suddenly realised. She turned and took a step before Wallace appeared back in her line of sight with Gloom desperately tugging on his trouser leg, trying to hold him back as he walked towards her, his long strides making it difficult for the stumpy Pokemon to keep up.

He held his hands out enthusiastically to her. “This one?”

“Gloooooom!” the Pokemon snarled at him looking not far from a tantrum. Wallace had a large smile on his face.

Erika felt bad she had to dash his hopes so quickly. She shook her head slightly, “sorry, that’s a Tamato berry.” She had to stifle a giggle with a hand as Gloom then began tugging on the man’s trousers with a triumphant mocking grin.

“Okay, okay. I don’t win… yet,” Wallace leered down at the weed Pokemon playfully. It held a dopey grin as it looked back up at him before waddling off again as fast as it could.

“I think this could come in handy though,” Erika continued her line of speech as she took the red berry from the man’s hands. “It’s a nice ingredient to spice up broth with and it’ll be good in the winter months. Of course that won’t be for a while yet.”

Wallace made a slight face at her comment. “I’m sure Will would appreciate that. I hear Lance is practically feeding him on bran flakes and little else, he’d enjoy a little flavour on a diet such at that, I’m sure.”

Erika bobbed her head despite detecting the disdain behind the comment. She felt she had to add her own thoughts, “bland foods are probably the best thing Will could eat right now. We don’t know what it is that sets him off but my first piece of advice would be for him to avoid all stimulants such as caffeine and sugar.” Wallace looked mildly ruffled but reluctantly agreed. “Still doesn’t mean he can’t have a treat now and then though?” she smiled slyly.

The tall man laughed lightly into the back of his hand before wandering off again in search of the elusive Pomeg berry. Without wasting time on idle thoughts Erika also started scouring the field. The grass and bushes were crisp and dry under the hard afternoon sun and despite being there to search for medicinal ingredients she was going to enjoy the day before the Pink Spinda called in the evening.

She needed the money. Hospital fees were so expensive. Her clients at the ‘Spinda were rough and demanding and yet she knew she was safe within the corporation. She had security, bodyguards and limited though it may be, she had a degree of medical safety due to Jasmine’s private practice. But since she’d been taking on people outside of the club she’d felt less safe. Her friend’s words earlier were right; she could get seriously hurt. And not just physically. If Steven were to find out she was working during her free time and at half the usual price she would have to be immediately let go and she couldn‘t afford that! It was dangerous ground she was walking on -- any of her freelance clients could let out the word that one of the Four was working on the cheap.

As she carefully waded amongst the bushes her eyes snagged on a small red berry poking out from behind a large green mass. She dashed over to the green bush and drew it apart to reveal the brightly coloured one hidden behind. Snagging a small red berry she placed it in her basket being careful not to bruise it. She continued harvesting the Pomeg berries.

With the reputation and popularity herself and her three colleagues had made for themselves within the Pink Spinda the results of her being caught would be devastating. She had no doubt Silph would pounce.

She felt so… selfish.

“Mpff!” She tensed as someone grabbed her suddenly from behind, placing a large hand over her mouth. Her basket fell to the floor as she struggled and kicked out at her aggressor.

The man holding her was large and strong -- she stood little chance as she flailed in his grip wildly trying to escape, her muffled cries lost to anyone but herself and the man. The man didn’t speak as he shifted her weight to wrap and arm around her neck and waist to stop her kicking.

“Ahhh! Help! Let me go! Help, help!” her mouth free for a second she managed to scream loudly but the man switched his grip on her face with an annoyed grunt to hold her head back and silence her.

With tears pooling in her eyes she honestly felt the man would break her neck. Her arms locked under his left only her hands free to grip and claw at his suited, muscled arms. His grip was so tight on her face she couldn’t even open her mouth in attempt to bite his hand. It was a bruising strength. She felt him tense under her futile struggles and her eyes widened as a second man approached from her side.

“Hey, Slate! Dun let her scream like tha’! Whattaya? An idiot?” The gruff man holding her only grunted in return. The second man leered at her abashedly. “Yer a pretty un, wha’s a lovely lil’ lady like you doin’ out all alone, ehh?” He chuckled to himself, obviously amused.

Erika watched him as her struggles died at the sight of a nasty-looking Mightyena. The grey Pokemon prowled up to the man’s side and sat with a placid look that she knew was a ploy. Mightyena were very sly Pokemon. She whimpered and immediately began to regret screaming for help.

The reason for her regret came dashing from behind a wooded area. Wallace skidded to a stop upon spotting the two men. Had he thought the screams more than a Pokemon attack he would have been more careful about approaching the situation, but it was too late. He had blundered in and the men had seen him.

Erika’s Gloom had no such thoughts as it ran directly for the person holding its Master, puffing out a vile-smelling toxin from its bulb. It took little more than a simple tackle from the Mightyena to floor the weed Pokemon. Erika wailed but it was muffled still.

The second man approached Wallace with elegant strides. “Hello, nice affernoon,” he said in an overly conversational tone.

Eyes narrowed Wallace observed the situation. Despite being a tall man himself both the black-suited men were probably twice his height and the one holding Erika probably thrice his girth. Should they try it they could easily wipe him out with a single fist. Gloom laid in the tall grass shivering with the effort to get to its feet while the Mightyena prowled to and fro around the man speaking to him. Clearly he was its master. Eyeing the other man briefly he wondered if he had a Pokemon too and berated himself for never catching anything better than a Feebas.

“What’s going on?” he asked sharply.

The furthermost man took his fedora hat off and made an elegant leg that Wallace found extremely out of context. The man replaced his hat as he spoke, “’tis none of yer concern, sir. I suggest you be on yer way.”

Wallace could feel his eye twitch, suddenly full of an anger he’d never experienced before. However, before he could react to anything the man stood before him moved over behind him with surprising speed. He could do little more than turn his head in shock before he found himself in a secure arm lock and a white cloth pressed over his lower face.

Erika renewed her struggles, wrestling and tussling against the huge man. Wallace could hear her muffled screams as he held his breath for as long as possible before the man holding him jabbed his elbows under his ribs forcing the air out of his lungs. Naturally he took a deep gasping breath and immediately regretted it.

Whatever the concoction on the cloth was it burnt his throat as he breathed it in. An immediate fog settled over him dampening his senses so much so he lost all balance when the man released him. He dropped to his knees with his arms hanging limply by his sides and his head lolling forward.

Vaguely he could see the men retreating with Erika but he couldn’t force any action into his limbs. He knelt dumbly as his friend was taken away.

Erika sniffled as the tears threatened to spill. She’d smelt the strong aroma of the herbal mix used on her friend. It was a careful mix of Cheri and Persim berries. Wallace hadn’t stood a chance, and whoever had made a mixture of it so strong she could identify it from a fair distance away was certainly a professional far above her own mediocre skills.

Clang

The small hatch at the bottom of the door slid open and a tray was passed through. It looked to be dinner; a pathetically scrawny chicken breast with a smattering of soggy vegetables. They were feeding her better than she would have expected, but she didn’t make a move to take the tray. Instead she wrapped her arms around her legs tighter and cuddled up to her own jumper. It felt secure.

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

“Ugghhh…”

Will sighed. Honestly, it was like trying to feed a pair of reluctant babies. Lance wouldn’t eat anything that wasn’t coated in at least two different types of sugar and Karen wouldn‘t even open her mouth, always turning her head away with a childish whine.

“Look, I’ll even try some.” Will put the spoon to his mouth and pretended to drink the pink liquid. If they were going to act like babies then he’d treat them like it.

“Tha’snot gonna work ‘n us…” Karen moaned as she held her forehead.

Lance didn’t lift his face from the counter, “ughh, my head…”

The spoon clanged against the kitchen counter, pre-empted by a sigh of irritation. Karen and Lance moaned at the noise. Will glared at them both. “You knew this would happen!”

“Exactly,” Lance agreed quietly.

“That’s why we did it,” Karen said.

Will shook his head. “But why?” his tone incredulous. “I don’t comprehend why.”

“It’s fun.”

“This is fun?”

“Stop talking so loud,” one of them moaned. Will wouldn’t dare saying it aloud but Karen had an oddly deep groggy voice when hung-over. He could barely tell which of them was speaking without seeing their faces.

Natu flitted over to them. Will watched his Pokemon with amusement as it observed the pink liquid he had poured again. It poked its blunt beak into the medicine experimentally only to instantly fall back with a shrill squeak. He laughed as the small bird performed a panicked little dance whilst it tried to rid itself of the taste.

“Godamnit!” Lance slammed his fist down on the countertop almost hitting the small Pokemon. Everything on the worktop jumped under the force. “Just be fucking quiet, people!”

And everyone was quiet. Natu flicked her large eyes between each person sat around the counter of the dismal studio flat kitchen. She looked scared. From a combination of a sudden loud noise and almost being pummelled, Karen could hardly blame the thing. She also seemed to have sobered up somewhat herself. She coughed awkwardly.

“Um, so… I think I’ll be going home now,” she said quietly. “Thanks for the medicine, Will,” she added as quickly as she dared.

Will knew she hadn’t taken any but nodded mutely in return. The blonde left the flat swiftly, not even pausing at the door to put her heels on. Will stood silently and still from the opposite side of the counter to Lance. Slowly he scooped up his Pokemon and shuffled across to the mantelpiece. The little Psychic type was frozen with fright as he tried to balance her on her favourite spot.

“I-I’ll go and feed Dragonair,” Will commented as loud as he dared. Lance seemed to be ignoring him as he crossed the flat to also exit. When he closed the door quietly behind him he breathed out loudly. As he made his way down to the community swimming pool Lance kept his Pokemon in Will thought, ‘it’s going to be a tense couple of days.’

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

Volkner stood back to admire his fine work. ‘Who said men couldn’t make a bed’, he thought to himself probably too proudly as he walked around the other side of the double bed to take his accessories off.

It had been another unproductive day and an entertaining evening spent at the Pink Spinda. His band had performed exceptionally well and Steven had even given them an extra night to work the next week -- apparently they had been his first choice after another act had dropped out unexpectedly.

He liked Steven. He was a strong man and he himself wished he had the man’s strength and optimism. Though his very own best friend probably had more optimism than all the people he knew combined, and that was on a bad day. Just as he was placing his second clip-back earring carefully in its box his friend came rushing into the bedroom.

Flint wasted no time as he literally threw himself on the bed and wriggled under the covers with a loud delighted sigh.

“Hey! I just made that!” Volkner barked at him immediately.

The man grinned back up at him, “and I thank you for it.”

Growling irritably under his breath Volkner carefully got into the bed alongside his friend, smoothing the ruffled sheets out over himself. Flint excitedly kicked his feet into the mattress for reasons Volkner couldn’t explain beyond his eternal exuberance.

“Stop it!” he shouted sharply and watched as Flint immediately did as told. “You’re too lively at night,” he muttered.

The redhead laughed to himself as he pulled the quilt up to his chin. “We had a great day today, yeah! Sidney got into another fight with that blonde lady.”

“Karen,” Volkner informed him.

“Yeah, her! Heheh, they’re so funny. You know what I think?” he asked as he leaned over to his friend, “I think they like each other.”

“Whaat?” Volkner snorted disbelievingly. “They can’t spend a minute together without an argument breaking out.”

“But why does Karen keep coming over to him?”

“I dunno,” Volkner sighed. He wanted to sleep. “I think she just likes to get on peoples’ nerves. Her and Lance are like that. It’s entertainment to them.”

Flint’s face scrunched up as he lapsed into silence. Volkner took the opportunity to turn on his side facing away from the man, puff up his pillow and turn off the bedside lamp. The silence was nice until it started to drag out for too long. It started to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Don’t try to think about it,” he told the redhead.

When Flint was silent he was thinking, and when Flint was thinking bad things happened.

“Hmm,” the man mumbled, a deep rich sound. It was one of the few sounds he made that Volkner liked. “Wait! My hair!” he suddenly jumped from the bed. Volkner hissed as the quilt was thrown back and the cold air of the room washed over his pajama clad back.

Flint dashed to their en-suite bathroom, the light clicking on and annoying Volkner further. With a slight growl he pulled the quilt over his head to block out the intrusive light from a cheap yellow bulb. A contented sigh then escaped him as he curled his legs up despite the heat of a high-summer night ready for a good nights sleep, finally.

Half an hour later Flint returned to their room with numerous curlers in his afro and slipped under the covers quietly this time. Turning his head he saw the bump under the covers and the messy blonde spikes poking out over the pillow. Looking as the clock told him it was an unreasonable time at night as he lay facing his friend.

“You look ridiculous,” the blonde murmured groggily but in good jest. Flint smiled to himself and put a secure arm around Volkner’s shoulders.

The next morning Volkner wasn’t in such a good mood with his bandmate. He stood in their living room with a look of barely-restrained rage on his face. Normally he wouldn’t walk around his house with his dirty work overalls on but the place was already a complete mess it hardly mattered that morning.

He walked around his sofa scowling down at the greasy drink and food stains as Flint stumbled down the stairs in a half-awake stupor. The redhead stopped as a sudden blast of doom washed over him. He stood on the second stair, smiled and waved weakly. “Hey, listen man, I can ex-”

“WHAT is this MESS?!”

Flint winced. He took a step back up the stairs. “I was gonna clean it up!” he pleaded desperately.

Biting laughter met his proclamation. “Look at this! This is never gonna come out! What is this? I-is this cheese?” Volkner looked incredulous as he examined each different coloured and sticky stain on the cushions and the surrounding floor. “Crisps, beer, toffee sweets -- are those HOOF PRINTS!?”

Flint hung his head in embarrassment at the dirty prints his Pokemon had paddled around the house.

“Rapidash stays outside,” Volkner continued his charade. “I don’t give Luxio special treatment; he’s not allowed in the house either! What were you even doing last night?”

Wringing his hands nervously and not making eye contact with his livid best friend, Flint timidly replied, “Sidney came ‘round and we stayed in and played games and… and stuff. Had a beer, yanno? Hahehehh…” He could see Volkner’s hands clenched into fists.

“It’s not going to work,” the blonde muttered.

“What?” Flint suddenly looked like he’d been shot in the heart. He pattered down the last few remaining stairs and up behind the back of the sofa. His fingers gripped onto the material desperately.

“This arrangement. I’m sorry, but it’s just not going to work.”

“B-but, Volk…”

“No!” the blonde pointed a finger in his face that cause him to turn cross-eyed looking at it. “You’re going to have to get a job!”

“Ohhhh,” that was a relief. “No wait! A job? Whhhhy?”

As he picked up all the cushions and began to remove their covers Volkner shoved them at Flint. “Stop whining. You do nothing but sit in here eating and watching TV, and making a mess. You don’t even clean up after yourself! I let you live in my house and you treat it worse than Rapidash’s stable! I’m not having it anymore. You’re getting a job!”

“W-where do I get a job?”

“Not at the cinema with Sidney and not at the garage with me. Just go somewhere that pays you to stay out of my house during that day. I don’t care where!”

Flint stood stupidly holding the cushion cases as Volkner collected an arm full of food wrappers from around the table and sofa. There were even can rings on his wooden table.

“It’s not easy paying for a horse either, you know,” he added for good measure whilst dumping the rubbish. “Now I’m off to work, I’m late already. You! Clean this room and look for a job. No, in fact don’t even clean the room, just get a job.” Walking into the kitchen he grabbed his bag, “if you’re not out of the house in an hour then Luxio will make sure you’re out.”

The Electric Pokemon sat faithfully at the backdoor bared his teeth in a wicked grin. Flint smiled nervously back at it as Volkner left him alone with it. He looked around; Rapidash was shut in her stable all the way across the garden. He gulped as the feline Pokemon eyed him.

“Oh…”

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

The club was in full swing.

It had been open for little more than two hours and Wallace had already seen Karen and Lance take on their customers. Now he was waiting for his own.

It was the first time the three had met in person after roughly a week. They were sympathetic to a point but clearly hadn’t much interest in his affairs. For that he was thankful. Even Lance had been polite to him, although he suspected Karen was pulling the strings taunt on the redhead. It had been pleasant enough though. As pleasant as he could’ve expected with the two.

But now, as he stood awaiting his customer, he could feel his hands shaking. It was ridiculous. He’d only been out of the game for a week and he was trembling like a young virgin. Even as he clenched his hands into fists they continued shaking causing his whole torso to shiver uncontrollably. He steeled his face and tried pacing but his legs also felt weak.

Truly pathetic the way he was overreacting, he scolded himself. Truly he’d never liked the job as he suspected no one in the business would enjoy their job, but he’d always had the determination and courage to finish his jobs. Before he’d began his relationship with Steven he’d hardly ever thought about what he was doing; he’d been raised in the Stone’s care and this job was all he’d known. He didn’t want to blame his romantic relationship but it was the only thing he could think of causing him such trouble on the job lately.

But he had to get over himself. Not just for his own benefit but for Steven’s again. He was good at his job and knew it. Devon knew it and the patrons knew it. He was possibly the one that made them the most money. They needed him - Steven needed him - to be at his peak.

But his blasted hands wouldn’t stop trembling!

The room around him was surgical white. He stood behind a wall he could see through but the patron on the other side couldn’t see back through. He often used it to get a good gauge on the men or women who had bought him. The man who had just entered the booth looked relatively amenable; a business man. He wore a smart-ish suite, highly shined shoes with a confident posture.

Shaking his head he left the room and approached the booth door. Pressing his forehead against it he lightly tapped and waited for permission to enter. The man asked him in causing his stomach to flip. Standing on the other side with his head down he waited in silence as the man looked at him.

His customer didn’t say anything, just looked a him, his eye roving over every sharp curve of his body. He struck quite a comical figure as he approached. Very few men were taller than Wallace himself and this man was no exception. The man grasped his chin and lifted his face to see his eyes, but he’d only had to do so because Wallace’s eyes had been transfixed on the floor.

“Very pretty…”

He had to swallow the bile rising in his throat as the patron took a firm grasp of his wrist and seated him at the very edge of the cold bed, kneeling before him. Wallace looked on with a confused expression as the man slid his shoes off.

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

His office wasn’t soundproof. Glacia stood at the far side of the room busying herself with his filing cabinet. It was probably the closest thing to soundproof in the club but the beating bassline thudded lightly in the background. Yet even that was drown out by the sound of Steven chewing on his nails.

Glacia watched him as she worked with his unnecessarily complicated filing system. He was a wreak. He sat hunched over his desk alternating hands and fingers to chew on nervously. She watched him closer; he wasn’t even nibbling then, he was literally biting. She’d never seen that habit in him before. Usually he would constantly clear his throat when nervous, maybe even run a hand through his hair more often than normal, but never had she seen him so highly strung he would bite his nails.

She wasn’t even sure he was aware he was doing it as his eyes probed the form before him, eyes scanning the page but not reading anything. It was a comforting feeling that he would show such vulnerability around her, knowingly or otherwise. She felt proud to be so close to the man. But it was eating her up inside that she couldn’t do anything to help. Any words she could speak would be empty - they both knew what Wallace’s job for the evening entailed.

They had both been hoping the first job upon his return would be something small, although nothing like that existed in their line of business. She sighed.

Steven looked up at the sound. “What time is it?” he asked despite having a clock on his desk. Glacia glanced at her watch.

“Almost one-thirty am,” she said with what she hoped was a soothing tone.

The young man’s head dropped again. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea. I should have done more to stop him.”

Putting the files down Glacia knew she would have had to reassure her boss at some point that night, but she was honestly surprised it had happened so soon. “He’s strong, Steven,” she said simply.

The man watched her from the corner of his eye as she approached him. “But that’s why I’m worried. If he breaks I don’t think I…”

“He wanted to come back,” Glacia said. She knew she was only repeating information Steven already knew, but maybe that was what he wanted to hear.

“He had to come back,” Steven almost choked. “But even if it were after an extra day of rest it-”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference.”

Steven looked up from under his fringe at his secretary. She was leant over the side of his desk, almost towering over him, a hand firmly planted on the form he had been looking at. She repeated her previous comment again.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference, Steven,” she was one of few people given permission to call him by name. “He had to come back to work eventually. You can’t hide him from your father for long, he’s too important to Devon for people to simply let him disappear. You know this. You’ve been taking the brunt of this whole mess, I think you’re tired.” She paused before continuing. “I hate to say it: but this is what Wallace knows. He knows what he’s doing, and what he’s doing he’s doing for you.”

She calmly walked back to the cabinet and resumed sorting through the various folders. “Do him a favour and get some rest.”

Steven watched her with what almost amounted to wonderment across his features. Taking the form in his hands he finally read it and registered what was written. Glacia had to hold back a triumphant smile.

It was later that night, or more correctly that morning, with Glacia retired to her own office that a light knock at his door woke him. Steven lifted his head from his desk in shock. Had he really fallen asleep? Pulling off the sheet of paper stuck to his cheek he tried to smooth his suit out and look presentable. He had a business to run and he had to look sharp!

But who could be knocking at such a time? A quick glance at the clock told him it was barely two-fifteen. He’d fallen asleep so fast! No wonder Glacia had left. Clearing his throat he approached the door and opened it regally, expecting one of the waitresses or a bouncer with a problem, or even Lance or Karen with another misdemeanour.

He certainly hadn’t been expecting to see his lover so soon, and not with a happy but slightly confused look on his face either. Steven’s mind immediately thought of the worst. The situation was remarkably (and terrifyingly) similar to what had started this whole mess.

But Wallace didn’t stumble gracelessly into the room nor did he slur when he spoke. “I think that went rather well.”

“What, Wallace? What?” Steven performed a double take as the man slid past him.

“You look tired, Steven. You were asleep weren’t you?”

“W-what.”

The tall man laughed. An honest happy laugh. A beautiful sound to Steven’s ears. Their height difference, the single thing that Steven found annoying in his lover, mattered little as the man bent ever-so-slightly to kiss him softly. He was still too shocked and confused to do anything, so he just stood.

Wallace released him then walked around the room a bit. He looked at Steven’s constantly blinking face and smiled. “The guy wanted to well, I don’t know how to put it.”

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” Steven’s voice suddenly had an edge. His lover laughed again. It softened him; he’d never get tired of hearing it. Then it was his turn to be ungraceful as he shuffled forward.

“He uh, he only wanted to… lick my feet,” Wallace said with a suddenly quiet voice, obviously embarrassed.

“Pfft, what?” Steven couldn’t help himself as he laughed outright at the comment. Wallace smiled back at him. “I’m sorry but he paid for-” he couldn’t finish.

“I don’t think he wanted to admit to anyone his fetish,” he finished his lover’s line of thought as the man laughed harder.

Steven steadied himself on his desk. The man had paid for a full session with Wallace but had only wanted to amuse himself with his feet? He laughed more as his lover joined in. It wasn’t even that funny but they had both needed a reason to laugh. Even Glacia should have been able to hear them through the walls.

He was laughing through his worry as he hobbled over to Wallace. He pushed the man down in his chair and stood over him hugging him tight. Wallace placed his hands with a reassuring pressure on Steven’s sides as the mans shoulders silently continued to shake.

But Wallace couldn’t tell if he were laughing or crying.

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

It was dark when he arrived home, tired and dirty. He stood under the porch taking his oily overalls off and noticed Luxio sleeping soundly on his mat. He looked too peaceful; like he’d had a good day. And Volkner knew a good day for Luxio meant he’d been attacking Flint. With a sigh he guessed that meant Flint hadn’t found a job after all.

He felt slightly guilty. A single afternoon was hardly long enough to find a job. Not a job that was safe and clean at any rate. A sudden thought struck him; maybe he could get Flint a job at the Pink Spinda! But what could Flint do? He was quite strong and well-built so could probably pass as a bouncer.

He shook his head at the thought as he folded his overalls. Flint couldn’t work there as a bouncer and as their band’s drummer at the same time. Besides, it… wasn’t safe, being a bouncer in a strip club. Steven ran a secure enough business on the surface but he couldn’t control every patron entering the place, and despite Flint’s good physique he was quite soft mentally.

Opening the door and dropping his overalls into the always ready wash basket he had the presence of mind to apologise to Flint. But something was different with the house. If Flint were home the whole place would be lit up unnecessarily bright and the television would be ridiculously loud as the man played his various war games with online friends. Everything was in darkness as he ran the water a second before filling a glass.

A sudden twinge of regret grabbed at him; he hoped the man hadn’t left.

He went to inspect the state of his living room. That room was also in darkness but he could see it had been cleaned. He shuffled around the sofa and table in the darkness, his eyes not adjusted yet before turning to the door again and flipping the light switch.

But as soon as the lights came on they went off again instantly. With an annoyed grunt he turned to the switch again. “Wah!”

Flint took his hand from the wall switch. “It works better in the dark,” he commented.

“W-what?” Volkner was at a loss for words. Flint had somehow silently crept up behind him. How he had done that with a bright yellow shirt he wasn’t sure.

The redhead was still holding his wrist as he walked them both over to the sofa. Volkner was pushed down onto his usual seat while Flint plopped down next to him. Even in the darkness Volkner could see the wide grin directed at him. He narrowed his eyes - Flint looked entirely too proud of himself.

“All right, what have you done?”

“Nothing, and I’m hurt you would think such a thing,” the man quipped good-naturedly. He reached around the sofa’s arm and switched on the TV.

The light from the muted TV highlighted everything in their immediate position. Everything was spotless; the sofa cushions had been cleaned, the carpet scrubbed and vacuumed, the table though beyond saving, now had a swanky glass pane atop it and on top of that were coasters. If Volkner were an emotional man he would have cried.

Flint dropped the remote and a game controller in his lap. Volkner looked around at all the unhealthy snacks and drinks his friend had set up, all within easy reach from his seat. “And if it’s not within reach I’m here to serve!”

“Haha, Flint,” Volkner didn’t know what to say.

“Plus! Dundundun-naaahh! I got a job! You are now looking at a proud employee of Tarous‘ Burgers and Fries! Hahah!”

The blonde snorted as his friend’s enthusiasm. “You must have greatly disappointed Luxio,” was all he could think to say in the situation.

“You have no idea,” Flint grinned back at him. “So what’re we gonna play first?” Volkner selected a game and the redhead quite literally stuffed the disk into the machine and jumped back into his spot.

He had to smile.