Sunday Mass and Brunch(private, Rachyl)(lock please)
Meegan had left her house early enough to drop the car off at the rental place and chose to walk the seven blocks down The Strip to Sts. Peter and Paul Holy Roman Catholic Church. The nine o'clock mass was always the fullest, and she began to wonder if she should maybe wait an hour and go at ten. She didn't exactly enjoy the stares her floor-length black rubber trimmed skirt, with a hidden zipper that allowed her to make it mid-thigh length, and black cami with little red buttons and a small bow between her breasts, was garnering. She sighed softly. 'One would think in a city like this where the largest Catholic Church is on The Strip, would be more tolerant of clothing choices, but nooo.'
She ascended the steps and took her place in the third pew on the left, that was the great thing about Catholic Churches, everyone sat in the same spot every single Sunday. She knew each time that her little space would be empty. If it wasn't, well she'd find another, but that had only happened twice since she'd been in Nachton.
She endured the fourty-five minutes, of standing, sitting, kneeling, singing and repeating the words she had said every Sunday since she was old enough to get them out of her face. When the last hymn had been sung, she filed out with the rest of the crowd, but unlike most of them she had a smile on her face, because she had a date.
"I'd never been close to anyone but my mom, and all of my cousins and aunts and uncles lived so far away, we were almost forcibly estranged, probably because my father left. So I can imagine how you feel."
When the plates arrived, she picked a cheesy puff, and listened as Meegan rattled off things to do.
"Yes."
"Well, in that case, there is an art musuem in town, I'd like to see if they have any new exibits."
She finished her bite and swallowed, before cutting off another and putting it in her mouth.
"I noticed you didn't say anything." Meegan's eyebrow raised, so she indicated, "About what I said about my father."
"I know about your father, but if you'd like to talk about it we can."
Meegan took a sip from her bloody mary. 'That was a mistake.'
So utterly shocked was she at that simple admission, that she didn't let go of the morsel between her fingers and bit down on thumb and forefinger. With a grumble of frustration, she dropped the bit of pastry in her mouth and chewed quietly.
When she was done, she licked her lips and looked at Meegan, a storm of emotions raging in her breast. Fear. Anger. Worry. And oddly, a tinge of relief. "I'll be honest, that scares me, on a few different levels. Did you Google him, or was it something that turned up during my hiring process, or was it something that you discovered back when you first researched me as a buyer of your designs?"
Rachyl shook her head, then raised a finger, silently indicating to Meegan she didn't want her to talk. "No, don't answer that. It's not really important. I'm... relieved that you know, as well as angry and worried, too, though I can't really say why."
She took a sip of her iced tea, and closed her eyes for a moment. Something told her Meegan kept wanting to say something, but she held the finger steady for a moment longer, then opened her eyes and dropped her hand to her lap.
"And, like you, I'd rather share it with someone, to get it off my chest, since I've only ever told two other people. So don't worry, I'm not very mad at you, just... perturbed maybe. Though, after this, I hope we can be honest with each other about what we know about the other, please?"
Rachyl knew she was channeling the tiniest bit of the anxiety she'd felt a scant three weeks ago when Meegan had grabbed her wrist at the table of the Indian restaurant (which Rachyl realized she could see, out the window, across the street, and a couple blocks down.) She wondered if Meegan sensed the pleading, the almost begging, quality of her tone, or saw it shining in her eyes.
"I don't know what is in the one and only police file on you Rachyl. I will never know, unless you choose to tell me. It was sealed and that is as far as I went. I thought about pulling some strings to find out what was in it." It was Meegan's turn to hold up a silencing finger. "But, because of the rest of your background, and everything else I had found out about you, I knew in the bottom of my heart that it was not youe crime that was listed there, but your victim's cruel moment in time. Written in terms of height, weight, bruise count and DNA. I wanted no part of that. "
She took another sip, her mind whirring with what she had learned in her investigator's reports. Nothing untoward, or she would never have let her come to work for Gothic-ah.
"I know where you went to school, where in your class you graduated, and what your grades were. I know what and who you sold to when working for your mom." Meegan looked deep into Rachyl's eyes. "I know you are a good person Rachyl, and I am truely sorry that I have betrayed your trust in this way.
The two men offering her drinks.
The dark hallway.
The sudden interest in Rachyl, and the overly familiar conversation.
A hand where it shouldn't have been, unwanted, unfriendly.
The rattling of personal information, as if read from a dossier.
The restraints around her wrists and ankles.
The flash of a knifeblade as it cut her clothes.
The warm trickle of blood... that wasn't her own.
Rachyl's heart was pounding her chest, the rush of her lifepulse in her ears blotting out everything except Meegan's words, flowing almost cruelly from those lips she so enjoyed... Then Rachyl focused on those crystal green eyes.
"Eyes are the window to the soul," someone once said, and through those windows, Rachyl saw the compassion, caring, worry, apology, fear, and something else, a hint something deeper...
And Rachyl's rising panic solidified into a little pill that she swallowed, and felt her heart slow, her breathing become more regular. She kept her hands flat in her lap as she tried to clear her throat, and sipped again from her tea.
The ice chilled tea almost burned as it trickled down her throat, cooling the emotion-seared passages, dissolving the remains of the pill.
Very, very quietly, she whispered, just so Meegan could hear, "You didn't betray it."
"Could you take these and put them in to-go containers, along with our fruit plates, and bring the check, please."
The woman smiled assuring them that it would be no problem. Meegan returned her attention to Rachyl.
Her heart ached for her friend, but it nearly broke for her lover. She had never in her life seen such pain in someone else's eyes before.
"Rachyl, that is a wonderful thing to say, but...are you sure?"
She drained her Grey Goose in one gulp, then followed it quickly with the remainder of her pastry - making sure to chew - and her tea.
By the time she'd cleaned her little plate, the waitress had come back with the annoying little black check folder and a bag full of food containers.
She wasn't sure if she could do it, but... She whipped her hand out as soon as the waitress turned, and grabbed for the folder.
"I'm going to go get a taxi for us, okay?"
When she flipped open the folder and looked at the bill's total - fifteen dollars - she realized that the amount seemed way off, then tallied it in her head. The girl hadn't charged them for the fruit, the quiche, or the drinks.
Something caught Rachyl's eye... another piece of paper behind the check. The girl's name and phone number? Surprised, Rachyl looked around, but couldn't see her. She picked up the square of paper, and placed the forty into the folder, and closed it. She felt eyes on her as she exited the restaurant, but decided not to turn to find their waitress.
Coming along side of Meegan as she waved for a cab, she snaked her arm around the taller woman's waist and whispered, "Shelly gave us her phone number."
"Vesper Gardens, please"
Meegan opened the bag and was surprised to find plates, forks, and a small bouquet of flowers. The soft petals made her smile again. 'This Shelly may very well be worth giving a call.' Holding out hope she delved into the bag looking for a blanket of some kind and found one of those Neat Sheets, folded under the food.
"It looks like Shelly wants us to have a picnic and even sent flowers. Don't loose her number." Meegans soft lilting chuckle filled the cab.
((Meegan and Rachyl out, lock please))