Buffy finally reached Quinn. Well, reached might not be accurate. She listened to a voicemail message left the day following her hasty retreat from Concentrico. From the combination of Quinn’s stuffy-nosed mumbling and thick accent, it took several times of replaying the message before finally getting the gist. Much to Buffy’s relief, it was basically a “wicked bug” keeping Quinn bedbound and out of commission.
Well, in all honesty, her relief might’ve been a bit premature. She was still dealing with another, far more difficult dilemma.
She hadn’t returned to Concentrico in two days. She tried convincing herself the choice was due to not speaking to Quinn directly. Well, that was a bald-faced lie, one for which she could be teased with a playground taunt involving one’s pants bursting into flames.
The truth was extremely complicated, yet plainly simple…William.
It was strange; although their time together had been brief, he’d managed to burrow deep down inside her and made himself quite at home. So much so, it was almost pointless trying to force him out.
It might be pointless, but without a doubt, it was an absolute necessity.
Forcing him out was the exact reason Buffy was standing in the center of the living room, coupling steady measured breaths with flowing, graceful movements of memorized Tai Chi forms, all in an attempt to harness control over these William-centric thoughts.
Unaware of how much time had passed, it wasn’t until her cell phone’s third shrill ring that her concentration broke, and by the fourth, she answered with a breathy “Hello?”
“Hey, lady! Did ya get my earlier message?” Quinn’s chipper tone triggered Buffy’s smile. True, the voice message had relieved most of Buffy’s uneasiness, but talking to Quinn in person was a far better emotional balm.
“Quinn! Finally, I was about to send out the cavalry.” Buffy tried to keep her tone equally light, even though not twenty-four hours earlier she’d briefly considered contacting Agent Mulcahy regarding Quinn’s disappearance.
“I’m really touched you care. But no worries, you know how we women are—nothing keeps us down.” Even with her continued cheerfulness, Quinn’s underlying gratitude was indisputable.
“Well, I have to admit, you sound pretty good for someone who’s been down and bedbound for days.” Buffy moved to stand by the window. She watched a few brave souls bustling through the wintery streets, making their way to destinations unknown under the waning sun.
“Yeah, I’m much better now, thanks. But enough about me. I was at Concentrico last night, and you were a no show. What happened?”
Buffy heard a faint rustling over the line, sounding as if Quinn was shifting positions before the humming of background music got louder. Without any explanation, Buffy understood the intent of using the singer’s sultry crooning to drown out their conversation to anyone attempting to listen in.
Following her lead, Buffy headed to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, she turned on the tub’s tap; the sound of rushing water, striking porcelain added an additional safeguard.
“Well, about that. Before I went back, I really wanted to pick your brain about the clientele.” Namely William, Buffy silently added, as she sat down on the closed toilet lid. Inadvertently, the mere thought of him caused her mind to wander.
his deft tongue laving her nipple, teasing the sensitive flesh, until it was hard and demanding before he moved to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. Her arms straining in his tight hold—
“—Earth to Buffy, ya still with me?” Quinn’s nasally jibe was like someone snapping a wet towel to her backside, immediately jolting her from her sinful thoughts.
“Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m still with you. The phone cut out or something, what did you say again?”
“What I said was that I heard there is an exclusive gathering tonight. Invite only.” Quinn’s tone fluidly shifted into a seasoned detective’s candor.
“I’m assuming Sebastian made the list.” Buffy needed to know the players, regardless of him being Quinn’s Achilles’ heel and a definite sore spot between them.
“Yeah, he did. So that means I’m in. Now, all we have to do is get you an invite.” Quinn’s mirthless snicker briefly filled the line.
“So what’s the plan?”
“I’m heading in around nine-ish. Give me about an hour. By that time, I’m sure you’ll be good to go. Oh, just a little heads-up. I have no clue what happens during these little parties, so just be prepared for anything.”
Buffy knew exactly what anything meant. For the past two days with only her rampant thoughts to keep her company, this was one of the many issues she’d considered and dissected until every angle was exhausted. Only then, had she made a definite decision.
It was obvious, Concentrico catered to their clienteles’ sexual demands and desires. Inevitably, the only way she was getting any dirt was by hands-on digging. Be that as it may, she would be the one holding the shovel and deciding how deep down she went, what she exposed, and to whom.
“Not a problem, Quinn.”
“Good. This might be the break that’s been years in the making.”
Then with the lowering of the music, Quinn slipped back into her no-nonsense approach, returning to her earlier casualness. “So what are you planning on wearing?”
Taking Quinn’s lead, Buffy shut off the water while their conversation continued for another ten minutes or so, discussing shoes, outfits, and the like. When the call finally ended, Buffy felt confident that tonight the tide was turning, and things were going to start happening.
With a renewed conviction, Buffy undressed, restarted the water, and released the lever for the shower. With a hum of bliss, she stepped under the hot spray; any residual uncertainty sluiced off her skin and swirled down the drain.
A few hours later, dressed to impress and wearing a sanguine smile as a most coveted accessory, she slid into the back of a taxi heading to Concentrico.
~*~
Buffy felt an unsettling sense of familiarity when she entered and passed through the first room, heading toward the table her and Quinn had previously shared. Thankfully, Quinn was alone. Even so, it surprisingly took several moments for Quinn’s attention to shift from her martini and to acknowledge Buffy’s presence.
“Buffy, I’m glad you’re here.”
Quinn’s unusual flat tone made normally cheerful words sound forced and unnatural. In spite of this, Buffy never commented, chalking up the impassiveness to a typical post-illness mind-fogginess settling in after a long day.
“So I was thinking, tonight we can—” Buffy’s attempt to lay out her carefully thought-out plan was cut short by Quinn’s interrupting.
“After our drinks, we need to get ready.”
Almost as if on cue, a glass of burgundy was set down on the table in front of Buffy and, just as suddenly, the waitress was gone.
“Get ready?” Buffy’s gaze darted in confusion between the unordered drink and the increasingly puzzling Quinn.
“Yes, anonymity is paramount.”
Unable to hold back her growing frustration from the ongoing aloofness and cryptic words, Buffy’s patience snapped.
“Seriously? What the hell are you talking about, Quinn? Whose anonymity? All I see here that’s paramount is our learning who the other players are—” Buffy’s irritated, rushed whispering ended abruptly when she noticed out of the corner of her eye Sebastian approaching.
Without a word, he slipped in behind Quinn. Now towering above her, his hand eagerly skimmed over the flesh peeking above her plunging bodice before settling and cupping the side of her throat possessively.
As before, Quinn’s rapture and Buffy’s repugnance were instantaneous. While Quinn’s eyes fluttered and her crimson stained lips spread into a dreamy smile, Buffy forced her features to remain affable, not wanting to show her ever-growing disgust. Then adding insult to injury, Sebastian’s interest appeared solely fixed on Buffy, in spite of the woman in total rapture within his grasp.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, Buffy. Will you be joining us this evening?”
The seductive purr of his voice, clearly meant to tantalize and incite, only triggered waves of loathing and uneasiness. She was having a serious case of déjà vu, recalling their last interaction and how out of control she felt. Not this time. She was the one in control. All she had to do was what she did best and take the control back.
Everyone had weaknesses. Sebastian Gallo was no exception.
It was simple really: use her knowledge of him to her advantage. He was well-known as an insatiable collector of the finest things life had to offer: real estate, fast cars, and even faster women. Yet for him, it wasn’t the object itself that mattered; they were all interchangeable. Where his desire lay was by what means he attained said object.
For him it was the thrill of the chase, manipulating and controlling everything and everyone in his path until he possessed what he wanted. Afterward, he savored his spoils and then, like boys and their no-longer new toys, he moved on to the next conquest. There were many men who envied his conviction and power and just as many women who vied for his attention.
Buffy wasn’t like many women.
For her, these were weaknesses that were easily exploited. All she had to do now was bait the trap. Swallowing back the bile creeping up her throat, she plastered on a mega-watt smile and raised her glass in a toast.
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Cheers.”
Buffy sipped her wine, hoping the full-bodied flavor washed away the acidic burn left behind as she waited for confirmation he was biting.
She hadn’t waited long; his wolfish grin and lustful leer spoke volumes of him gobbling up the enticement of adding her to his collection. Thankfully, once Sebastian believed he’d secured another well-deserved prize, he released Quinn and with a promise of “Soon” directed entirely at Buffy, he slipped away like a shadow retreating from the sun.
It took over ten minutes of downing the rest of her wine and deep steady breaths to collect herself before she was ready to deal with Quinn. While Buffy eyed her dazed and confused counterpart, she had an asinine notion: if she believed in such absurd things as fairytales and fables, she could’ve sworn Quinn looked almost bewitched. However, just as quickly as this thought emerged, she dismissed it.
After a few more minutes of waiting and it still appeared that Quinn wasn’t snapping out of her thousand-mile-stare, Buffy decided she had no other choice but to invade her personal space and move the process along.
“Quinn! Focus!” Buffy grabbed her upper arms none too gently and gave her a firm shake. Quinn's head swayed on her slender neck, eyes remaining open but unseeing.
Buffy felt her irritation fading and being replaced with alarm. Something was truly wrong. Maybe Sebastian slipped some sort of drug in Quinn’s drink. If this was the case, based on the last time she witnessed them together, it wasn’t the first time.
Knowing she had to act quickly, Buffy wrapped her arm securely around Quinn’s waist. On contact, she felt the sweltering heat of Quinn’s skin radiating through the clinging, damp fabric of her dress. She was burning up.
“Okay, it’s time to go. Do you hear me, Quinn? I’m going to get you outta here.” Buffy tried remaining calm, despite the frenzy of butterflies taking flight in her gut.
Then the unexpected happened. On shaky arms, Quinn pushed herself upright and away from Buffy.
“It’s time.”
Quinn’s focus and voice were still eerily distant, and with remarkable strength she slipped from Buffy’s grasp. She resembled a puppet on a string, appearing to move with a will not of her own when she stood and rounded the table. Then with stiff, purposeful strides, she headed straight for the closest door and exited.
This all seemed so surreal, but Buffy knew this wasn’t the time to ponder, it was time for action. She snatched her clutch from the table and followed.
Making quick work of the short distance, she now stood before the seemingly ordinary black door. Instinctually, she threw up a sturdy mental dam to hold back the memories that were threatening to rush forward of her previous foray through a black-door. Finally, when all distractions were firmly secured and with a renewed determination, she yanked open the door and stepped through.