Oriana squinted down at the bottle of wine. She’d always been the best. Well, almost always. She’d won most of the competitions and challenges that Fran- that the program had thrown at her. But she’d struggled in two areas: she lacked pure strength and she had a horrible tolerance for alcohol. 

And now, years later… she still had a horrible tolerance for alcohol. 

Things were okay. They were fine. Cat was good. Ori had even bought a business, even though she didn’t tell anyone about it yet. It’d been a drunk purchase, but it was still a good one. Who didn’t like weapons?

But now Cat was off with Orion. And everyone else was… out. Doing New York things. Oriana put the bottle of wine down with a thud against the cement edge of the building, then dropped down to the fire escape. 

Tara was probably bored. Or in trouble. Better check on her.

***

Oriana put her hand out to steady herself against the tree. The Mastrosimone residence was well guarded… but Oriana had been sneaking past security for over a decade. She climbed the tree and dropped down silently into the yard. She used the bushes to hide herself from the guards, and effortlessly scaled the wall. Oriana hung on the outside of the house, slipping out a knife and opening the window. She slunk inside like a cat- a drunken cat, but still graceful. Oriana picked the lock of Tara’s room and found… nothing. 

She was probably working. But a surprise would be better than just strolling in. Oriana walked into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then went to the closet, sat in the corner, and promptly fell asleep.

***

Tara threw open the door in annoyance and stormed into her room, barely caring that it was nearly 2:30am and the whole of the Mastrosimone house was sleeping.  Brigitte followed her into her room as did Rosalyn.

Tara tore off Oriana’s jacket and threw it onto the bed with a, “GAH!”

“Breathe.”  Brigitte said softly.  “It’s just ten million.”

“Just.”  Tara said flopping down onto the bed.  “Dad is gonna shit a brick.”

“Dad isn’t going to notice.”  Brigitte shrugged and pulled out a pack of cigarettes offering one to Rosalyn and then sitting down at Tara’s desk.  “Do you think he never had a bad night at dicing? Things happen Tara, you’re far too stressed out about all this shit.  If you’d just cal-”

“NO.”  Tara said.  “I won’t. We’re not doing this again.”

“Shh.”  Rosalyn cautioned pushing a long bit of auburn hair behind her right ear.  “You’re going to wake the rest of the house.”

“I’ll go down to the kitchen. Bring up a bottle of wine.  We’ll cap off the night and you’ll be sleeping like a baby in no time.  You’ll forget all about this and we’ll start again tomorrow.” Brigitte lit her cigarette and took a long drag, chuckling.  “And you don’t have to call anyone you don’t want to call.”

“I need something stronger than wine.  Ten million times stronger,” she said throwing her new leather boots that Brigitte had forced her into buying… though, maybe forced was a strong word?

Brigitte stood up.  “Grandpa Gavin’s whiskey then?”

“You trying to get mom to kill me too?  Cause, that’s a GREAT way to do it Brigitte.”

Brigitte rolled her eyes.  “The Lioness makes it out to be rarer than it is.  Dad found a cache of it in Philly. Jack Mezzo special. You know how much that shit is worth?  Come on, you’re already down ten, how much more can you lose in one night?”

Tara looked to Rosalyn, her top three buttons on her blouse undone, she had this strange necklace charm that kept pulling at Tara’s eyes.  Was it a rock? It surely wasn’t a jewel. Maybe just a bauble?

Brigitte stood up.  “Look, just… relax for a few.  I’ll have the whiskey. We’ll all drink, laugh about the topless whatever that was and I’ll try to think up a new plan.  This thing is happening Tara. I’m not letting you give up and go back to that university.”

“I’m not going anywhere,”  Tara said pouting. “Except the bottom of the harbor when dad finds out what we did.”

“It was a good plan,”  Rosalyn said in a musical voice.  “You were doing so well until that last hand and what were the odds?”

“You don’t want to know,”  Tara muttered. “So slim I bet everything I had on it.  Now we’re back to square zero and if someone buys that damn property I’m just going to … I don’t know.”  Tara fell back on her bed.

Brigitte slipped out of the room and Rosalyn came over to sit on the edge of Tara’s bed.  “It’s not all bad news. Look, you’re much better at poker than anyone would have guessed.  That couldn’t be your first time playing?”

Tara stared up at the ceiling and shook her head.  “My mother taught me when I was a girl but next to my Grandmother she’s legendarily the worst poker player in the whole damn family.  And then I guess I got a few good tips from Uncle Will, but honestly, I didn’t think they’d serve me as well as they did. He really…” She sighed.  “He…”

Rosalyn put a hand on Tara’s leg.  Tara looked at it and then looked up to the other woman and met her eyes.  

“I’m glad you and your sister asked for my help, but you know I could help you with a lot more than just this whole … project of yours?  I have other skills you could make use of.”

Tara froze, was she referring to…?

“I could help you staff the place.  I know lots of girls.”

Tara laughed nervously and sat up making a point to put her legs down on the other side of her bed on the floor.  “I can’t ask you to do that. Besides, it’s far too early to think about that sort of thing. I’m still in the raising the capital phase and at the moment, I’m not even sure we’ll get out the gate after this little poker table debacle.  I don’t want to take a loan from my father but after this… I don’t know how else it’s going to happen.”

Tara wandered over to her dresser and began looking through it for something comfortable to wear around the other woman that wasn’t too revealing.  Most of her sleepwear was a non-starter. Maybe sweats? She did have that big Vassar sweatshirt in the closet.

“You could try to earn the cash another way… maybe another poker tournament?  Tara you had those people dead to rights. It was one bad hand. One that separated you from the money you needed and going home broke.  You are on the right track. We just need to get you enough money to get into another game.”

Tara walked over to the closet.  “And how do you suppose I do that?  Get a job? Waitressing?” She shook her head obviously joking.  “Not happening.”

“There are other ways,”  Rosalyn said with a smirk that Tara didn’t have to see to hear in her voice.  This woman WAS teasing her, wasn’t she? Where did Brigitte dig her up? Did she really work for Dad?  Tara didn’t dare look back and instead opened the closet door to find inside not only her sweatshirt but … 

Tara shut the door gently and fast.

“I got the whiskey!”  Brigitte said brightly as she came bounding back into the room. 

“Shhh!”  Tara turned on her.  “You need to go. You both need to go.”  Tara went to Brigitte and snatched the whiskey from her.  She needed it now more than ever.

Brigitte blinked, “But we haven’t talked about how we’re going to-”

“Doesn’t matter.”  Tara said pushing her sister back towards the door, Rosalyn got off the bed and began walking towards the door and as Brigitte got to the door Tara quietly breathed, “Ori.”  And her eyes darted back towards her closet.

Brigitte’s eyes went wide and then she giggled.  “Oh… shit.”

“Get out.”  Tara insisted.

“We’ll talk again soon,”  Rosalyn said.  

“Later,”  Tara promised.

Brigitte took the other woman’s arm and began to lead her down the hallway. 

As softly as possible Tara pulled the bedroom door shut and sighed listening for the sound of Oriana’s distinct slow and shallow breath which she’d laid awake listening to a few times before.  Exhaling a ragged breath as quietly as possible she crept back towards her bed, staring at the closet. What the fuck was the other woman doing in there?!? Didn’t she know how the hell doors worked?  She thought about going over and opening the door and demanding to know why the hell she didn’t call or just, come by like normal people but then it occurred to her that prior to Italy, this was their normal.  Oriana just showing up. Being there. Waiting for her.  

Memories of Ori waiting on her bed at the door softened Tara’s sour mood and she poured a splash of the strong whiskey before setting it on the nightstand.  Going to the record player she put on some music softly and sat back down to sip the whiskey, staring at the closet, wondering if Ori had hoped to surprise her.  Why else hide in the closet rather than on the bed as she’d done before? Christ… a second time. The woman had gotten past their security twice now. Something had to be done about that.

Tara coughed slightly at the whiskey’s kick.  Brigitte had told her it was strong, Brigitte being the only one among them that had been brave enough to try it when she, Gavin, and Brigitte had found some in their youth.  Still, she hadn’t expected that. Tara dabbed her eyes. Well, she didn’t sound like she was sleeping so, Tara had to guess she wasn’t.  

Standing up Tara began to undo the large bow at her neckline, making a point to stand with her back to the closet, in case Ori should peak out.  Softly she hummed along with the song on the record player so her lover would know it was her who had come into the room and not Brigitte.  She couldn’t believe Oriana had slept through all the fuss she’d made earlier. But if she made it all the way through the record without coming out of that closet, well, Tara decided that she’d definitely go in… maybe.  Reaching a hand over to the record player, as she opened her top buttons she turned the volume up a little more, hoping to cover any sounds from the room with the music from the speaker.

From the closet, Oriana began to snore.

Tara sighed in frustration at the sound of snoring.  Well, at least she hadn’t seen the prostitute Brigitte dug up.  Tara shook her head. One crisis at a time. Dad tomorrow. Feisty auburn-haired women later.  Oriana… sleeping… now.

Down to her bra and panties, she walked over to her dresser, fishing out a very soft nightgown.  It wasn’t particularly sexy but it wasn’t as grandmotherly as most of her attire. It certainly wasn’t anything Bacchus would have kept around though.  Still, it would have to do. Stripping down she threw on the small nighty and quickly went back to her bed, turning out the light as she did so. The constant snore from the closet suggested Oriana had passed out after a significant amount of alcohol.  She didn’t snore often, generally speaking, it seemed she only snored when she’d fallen asleep after more than her share of drink. Well, there was only one thing for a situation like this.

Tara picked up her boot from beside the bed.  Once snuggled down between her sheets she hurled the damn thing as hard as she could at the closet door and laid down onto her pillow to make as if she’d been there comfortably for some time.

Oriana woke up with a start, reaching for her gun and her knife and successfully drawing neither of them, bumping her head against the wall. Where the fuck was she?

Tara lay still, listening to the music and the muffled cursing. Waiting to hear if Oriana fell back to sleep.  If she did, she had half a mind to leave her there so she’d wake with a terrible crick in her back and neck and then force her to join her parents for breakfast.  At least she’d get one morning with her here in New York before her father killed her… and at least the snoring had stopped.

Tara lay with her eyes closed, wondering if her hair looked good on the pillow.  Was she posed in such a way to maximize her appeal when Ori came out of the closet?  Surely she’d see her in the bed and not just climb back out the window, right? Damn.  Maybe she should have left the lamp on?

Tara was still surprised by the teeth lightly biting into her earlobe. Unconscious, Oriana had failed at stealthy, but even a drunk Oriana was still a master infiltrator. Tara hadn’t even heard the closet open. 

Tara made a soft approving noise.  “I like it better this way… I mean, you waiting in my bed is nice, but surprises are good too.”  Oriana HAD been drinking. If Tara had been sniffing for her breath, she was pretty sure that no amount of silent feet would have kept her from noticing the other woman.  Tara smiled and reached up to grab at Ori without opening her eyes.

“I’ve had the worst luck tonight, right up until this moment.”  She growled more than spoke attempting to pull Oriana into the bed with her.  “Come here.”

Previously, when Oriana was indulging in her desire, she’d handle Tara the way she’d use any of her other weapons- with grace and precision. Drunk, Oriana was less skillful- but also less restrained. She grabbed at Tara with abandon.

Tara whispered into her ear, “You’re drunk.”  She chuckled.  

“Maybe. I figured you missed me.”

“If I tell you I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left, would that make me seem hopelessly desperate and clingy in an unattractive sort of way?”  She kissed down Ori’s neck as her hands ran up and down the other woman’s body.

Oriana ripped open Tara’s nightgown. “What if I said yes to hopelessly desperate, kind of to the clingy, and no to unattractive?”

“I’d question if you were too drunk to consent to this.”  Tara, left hand came up along Ori’s chin and she opened her eyes to look at her lover.

“Shut up. If you’re not naked in two minutes I’m getting my knife.”

“Promises, promises.”  She tsked. “Besides don’t you want to hear about my hard day at the office?” She began trying to remove her panties under the blankets.

“After.”

“You’ll be asleep after… then I’ll be asleep and then I’ll wake up alone.”  Tara giggled. “I know you Oriana Montini. You’ll be gone before the sun and I’ll question if I didn’t dream you into existence.  I’ll question if you were ever here at all,” she babbled on.

Tara was talking too much, and Oriana was far too distracted to be listening. 

“Did you miss me?”  Tara took a chance to slide her hand between them.  She seldom tried to take the lead, but Ori was drunk so it seemed as good a time as any.  Clearly the woman had missed her, why else was she drinking and climbing into her bedroom window if she didn’t miss her too?  This, on some level, felt like a good sign.

“If I say yes, will you stop talking and-”

“Oh, so that’s the off button for your cynical mouth…”  She said rolling her finger over Oriana gently. “If only I had known sooner.  I wonder, if I play with it long enough, will you say pretty things to me and smile?”  Tara’s tone was 100% overly pleased with herself.

“I will… stab you if you stop.”

“Careful, talk like that could get you into a lot of trouble.”  Tara slowed her strokes with her words to place emphasis.  “I could make this last all night, not let you leave with the sun.  Exhaust you further. Bring you breakfast in bed… wake you with kisses in all… the … right… places.”  Again Tara punctuated her words with the ministrations of her hand, as Oriana had done to her several times now in Italy.  She wasn’t experienced, but again, she was a fast learner. It also helped that Oriana was so eager.

Tara kissed on Ori’s ear, “You’re holding your breath.”  The smile could be heard in her voice. “I must be doing this right.”

Oriana arched her back and reached behind Tara’s head to pull her in for a kiss.  Tara returned the kiss with equal passion, allowing her chatter to stop long enough to savor the taste of her lover and to listen to her breath and the sounds of her body moving beneath the sheets.  It was a nice sound and odd in this place. She wished she’d locked the door but the thought of being caught by anyone was also, strangely thrilling. Her mind wandered back to Italy and all the doors in the long hallway, never once straying to who might find them here, but just on the idea of being seen.  When the kiss ended, Tara coming up for air, she spoke again.

“I think I’m going to please you tonight.  If you want to hear me call out your name, you’ll have to come back to me when you’re sober… when I know you mean it.  Really, really, mean it. But I won’t leave you aching tonight. I’ll give you what you want, but I expect to see you again soon.  Am I clear?” she kissed Oriana again, a bit firmer this time. Her words hadn’t been spoken with too much aggression, but a hint of it.  A slight edge that suggested she would be very disappointed if Oriana didn’t come back to return the favor.

“Crystal,” breathed Oriana. Then she gave herself over to Tara.

***

Tara blinked when she woke up- the morning sun was just beginning to stream through the window. Remembering the previous night, Tara smiled- and her smile only increased when she felt Oriana’s weight on her. Glancing down, Tara saw a mess of brown hair resting on her hip, near the scar from her gunshot. Oriana had some of the sheet thrown over her, but one long, naked leg dangled out over the edge of the bed.

Tara stared for a long while at Oriana bathed in the morning light before deciding to put her fingers into the other woman’s hair.  They’d come a long way from the woods and having to tie her up to prevent a tragedy. And, perhaps in many ways, not so far at all. Tara smiled at that thought.  Waiting for Ori to stir she whispered, “It’s time I get my own place I think.”

Oriana blinked. Then winced. “Oh… shit,” she whispered. “I’m dying.”

Tara chuckled and looked up at her ceiling.  “You’re not dying. You’re just hungover and in love… and both are fucking terrible.”  She smiled ear to ear.

“I need water. And… no it’s too late for cheese. Breakfast.” She winced again and threw the blanket over her face. Then she pulled it back.

“Did I do anything bad last night? Say anything?”

Tara hugged the blanket burrito that was her lover.  “You were wonderful last night. Don’t worry about a thing.  I’ll get you some water and a few pancakes. Just… stay here unless you want to deal with the mob downstairs.  They wake up early around here. Mom and the girls, they are all training. Dad makes breakfast with Victoria… it’s way too perky down there at this hour.  Ungodly. Really. I’ll just steal some stuff and slip back up in the chaos.”

Oriana covered her eyes with the blanket again, groaning slightly.

***

Tara tiptoed down the stairs until the smell of pancakes made her realize there was no point.  Turning the corner into the kitchen she found Aurora already dressed and cooking. Her mother pointed a spatula at her and then at the stool across the bar from where she was working.

“Sit.”  It was not a request.

She knows.

Tara pulled herself onto the stool. “Mom, I can explain…”

“I hope so.  Cause according to the call from one of my pit bosses early this morning, it looks like you stole money from the Godfather of New York and then lost it all in a poker tournament.”  Aurora flipped the pancake. “Do you know how ill-advised any part of that sentence is even for someone who shares blood with said Godfather?”

“It wasn’t his money exactly.  Not all of it.”

“Oh?  So where did you get that kind of cash, Tara?”

Just in the other room, Brigitte could be seen sneaking Rosalyn to the front door, praying all the while her mother never noticed… which, of course, Aurora did.

“Investors.”

“Is your father an investor then?”  Aurora asked making sure to put a little more vanilla into the batter.

“Only if he knows how much Brigitte borrowed for her part in things, pretty sure most of the rest of it is free and clear the property of others...”

Aurora sighed.

“I suppose this means we need to tell Dad.”

“You think?”  Aurora said shaking her head.  “Ten Million - Tara!”

“In my defense … I was all-in on a straight flush.  What were the damn odds he’d get a royal flush?!?”

Aurora knew her daughter was right.  It was a one in a million hand, or something along those lines.  It was rare. Her own father would have gone all-in on a straight flush that late in the night with only one other player at the table, even if the other guy was one of the biggest card sharks in all New York City.  Tara had a gift or luck or both when it came to cards, but neither mattered at this moment.

“It’s beside the point.  You can’t just raise capital for a project by gambling.  That’s not a smart way to do business.”

“Dad does it.”

“That’s different.  He knows a great deal about the calculated risks, it’s math.”

“I know!  Math and a small bit of luck.  Mom, the luck just screwed me this time, it won’t happen like that every time.  I swear that I’ll make things right with Dad. I’ll get him every penny I owe, but please… can I just have a few pancakes and you looking the other way for just another twenty-four hours please?”

Aurora stared at Tara.

“Please, mom.”  Tara continued to beg, now with a smirk on her lips.  Seeing that twinkle of mischief in her eyes that reminded her of her own father she shook her head and threw five pancakes onto a plate.  

“Take up some milk with you, juice if you’d rather.  Your father will ring my neck if we let Oriana leave without a proper breakfast.”

Tara blushed and started to stammer.

“Oh don’t be like that… obviously she’s up there, why else would you want to take breakfast and run?  Just… don’t make this a habit.”

“I won’t.  I… I think it might be time to look for an apartment.”

Aurora chuckled, “Maybe it is.  And maybe Brigitte would like to actually use hers from time to time.  Lord knows we pay enough for it, though why if she’s always here I don’t even know.”

Tara took the plate and called over her shoulder, “Closet space.  And boys. Thanks mom.”

Aurora rolled her eyes and watched Tara heading back up the stairs wondering who the mystery woman was and what her daughters were mixed up in that they were willing to lose $30 million in a poker game for.  Twenty-four hours… and then she was going to Billy whether Tara liked it or not.

***

Tara carried the pancakes up the stairs and noticing Brigitte’s door wasn’t latched she nudged it with her foot to open it.  

“Mom knows about--”  Tara’s words stuck hard in her throat as she caught sight of her sister standing in front of her full-length mirror, naked, covered in bruises of a variety of shades and sizes.  

“GET OUT!”  Brigitte was roaring from the second the door came open, dashing across the room to slam it in Tara’s face.  From behind the now locked door Tara could hear, “Christ! Didn’t you learn how to knock!”

“I… I’m sorry,”  Tara said softly, backing away from the door.

“Morning Tara.”  Izzy chirped. Tara turned and looked just in time to see Izzy, Cerise and Azure down for breakfast.

Tara blinked and for the moment one shock replaced the other, “You’re up early, Izzy…”

“We’re training her.”  Azure threw out.

“She beat Indigo this morning, so she’s sitting with us,”  Cerise explained.

“Um… okay,”  Tara said not sure what the hell Izzy could possibly have beat Indigo at nor why seats seemed to make Izzy beam so brightly.  As the girls began down the stairs Tara gave one last look at Brigitte’s door before retreating back to her room.

***

“The whole world has gone fucking insane,”  Tara said as she entered the room speaking in a hushed tone.  “Izzy is training with mom and the girls and Brigitte… I don’t even know what the hell is happening there.  I need my own place.”

Oriana was gone again; the bed was empty. 

Tara was halfway to deciding whether she should curse or cry when she heard the shower running; she exhaled and put the pancakes down to wait. She waited for a long time before she eventually knocked on the door. Hearing nothing, she frowned.

After some time pondering what the hell she should do, Tara opened the bathroom door. There was a pile of clothes in the corner barely visible through the steam.

“Ori?” 

“Yup.”

“Are… you okay?”

“I’m dying.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re just hungover.”

There was silence from the shower.

“How much did you drink?” asked Tara.

“... couple days’ worth.”

Tara frowned. A night of fun was one thing, but drinking for two days was concerning. Still, now wasn’t the time. 

“Well, there’s food outside for you.”

“Okay. Thanks.” 

Tara left the room as she heard Ori seemingly pull herself up from the floor of the shower.

A few minutes later, Ori had emerged and thrown some clothes on. Although Oriana was taller and more muscular, she managed to find a few things of Tara’s that fit her; thankfully, Tara had been shopping since that first time a couple of months earlier when Oriana had raided her closet. Flipping through the hangars, Oriana held up a belt that had been tossed to the back of the wardrobe. It had a few deep imprints of tooth marks- someone had bit down on it hard.

“Was this… me?”

Tara smirked, “Had to keep you quiet somehow.”

Wearing a blouse slightly too tight and a skirt that fell to her mid-thigh, Oriana crossed her legs and accepted the plate of pancakes.

“Now tell me all those things that happened last night,” said Ori, beginning to devour her pancakes.

“Well if this storytime is like the last one, should I start with the part where you bit my earlobe in bed, or are you asking about my night prior to the ‘good parts’ as Bacchus would put it?”  She smiled at Oriana but already knew what the other woman meant and so shook her head.

“Not a lot to tell really.  Been working with Brigitte on my grand scheme.  My own little corner of heaven on earth. We found this bit of property that is perfect for the building, overlooks the Hudson River and the skyline of the city.  Lovely really… problem is it comes with a very large price tag. So, Brigitte insisted she had this great way for us to make the money. She and a few investors would front me the cash to enter a poker tournament.  The prize money would cover the property and groundbreaking. We’d get a good chunk of the work done and then take the plans to my father for the rest of the cash needed cause, well, with Brigitte in charge of helping me decorate this House of Pleasure, you know it’s going to be over budget before we even begin.”

Tara snagged a bite of pancake.  “Things were going well,” she said swallowing the pancake.  “Right up until the point where there was me and this one guy left.  He was absolutely carved of stone until he won. I couldn’t read him.  Not even a little, but I had a straight flush so… I went all-in. I mean, it doesn’t get much better than that, I should have been a shoo-in for the win.”

She sighed.  “So, the asshole had a royal flush.”  she looked down at the pancakes dejectedly.  “And to make matters worse, apparently someone at the casino called mom and told her how much money I lost last night and now she’s downstairs thinking we took the entry fee from Dad and not from Brigitte and her mysterious investor.  Now I need to find out more about that and get the money together still. I’m worse than at square one. I know I could ask Dad for the money, he probably would front it but I want to own this myself. I don’t want this to be another of my father’s many businesses.  I want this to be mine - I had hoped to impress him and do it all on my own, you know?”

“I wish I had some cash. I just bought a business of my own for a couple million, and I’m basically broke again after paying off some debts. I wish I’d held onto that blank check your mom had offered me.” She paused. “How much do you need?”

She leaned back in her seat. “Too much.  I mean, I’ll figure it out. I just… I guess I got excited last night when I was doing so damn well at the tables.  I mean, for a moment I thought it was all just going to fall in place nice and easy. No-fuss or muss. It would have been nice for it to have worked out that way.  Mom says I got twenty-four hours before she tells Dad about the whole tournament. Between now and then I’m going to ask Brigitte how much of her donation was from Dad’s coffers and I got to figure out how to get that much back at least.  I really don’t want to face him right now, but especially not if I owe him a shit ton of cash.”

She shook her head, “Of course, I have a whole line of questions for Brigitte right about now, not the least of which is about the money.  There’s all those damn bruises and Rosalyn. This has got to be the oddest week of my life and considering Italy that’s saying something.”

She glanced at the belt.  “So, I’m thinking also, maybe I need to put a bit of a priority on getting my own place.  Mom needs the bedrooms for the girls so Izzy isn’t sharing and I can’t keep shoving perfectly good belts into your mouth.”

“Bruises?” Oriana, obviously dealing with a headache, was a bit behind. “And I don’t mind you shoving things in my mouth.”

Tara hesitated, feeling like she might be betraying some trust but then nodded, “I walked into her room a minute ago, she was changing.  She was head to toe bruises. Some yellow and some fresh. She looked like she’d been hit by a damn car repeated. She chased me out and locked the door.  I had no idea she was hurt, or what the hell could have caused those… but I’m going to ask her.”

“Alright,” Oriana popped the last of her pancakes in her mouth. “Let’s go ask her.”

“Right now?”  Tara smiled. Oriana wasn’t going to sneak out the window and disappear!  “I mean, yeah!” She all but lept off her bed in a bit more excitement than she meant to show.

As Oriana got to the door and Tara opened it, Gavin appeared.  “Oh hey! Oriana. Good, someone with taste.”

Tara glared.

“This shirt?  Or this one?” Gavin held up one blue shirt followed by another in front of himself.  To Tara’s eyes they seemed pretty much the same color and cut. She couldn’t figure out why Gavin would even care about fashion in the first place.

“I think this one,” He said indicating one with pearl buttons, “Is too fancy maybe… but maybe I want her to think about me being the sort of fella who cleans up, ya know?”

“What are you doing this for?”  Tara asked.

Gavin blushed. “There’s this girl …”

“Oh lord.”  Tara sighed.  

“Hey, you’re not the only one with a life in this house you know.”  He looked back to Oriana. “Dressy. Or toned down. She works at a diner down by the docks.  Her family doesn’t have a whole lot. I don’t want to make her feel like I’m putting on airs but maybe she likes that I’m from a well-off family?  I can’t decide.”

“Why aren’t you asking Brigitte?”

“I tried.  She’s packing up her crap and won’t let me in to talk to her.  Apparently she’s in a mood and headed back to Manhattan. Mom’s gonna be happy, means fewer kids crammed in with Izzy.”

“Save the pearl buttons, for now, go with the simpler one. Does she know who you are?” asked Oriana. “If she does, it doesn’t matter. But if she does, I think it’d be better for you to look like you’re not wealthy. If she likes you, then you know she actually likes you and not just your money.”

“Smart and beautiful,”  Gavin said with a wink. Ori smirked, despite the headache.  “Don’t screw it up, Taa.” With that, he went back to his room.

Tara shook her head and proceeded to Brigitte’s door.  Tara pounded on the door a little harder than was necessary.  “I know you’re still here. Can we talk?”

“Let it go Tara,”  Brigitte called through the door.

Tara turned the knob and found it was locked as Gavin said.  Inside she could hear clothing being thrown around. “I could mention to Dad what I saw.”

“You won’t.”  Brigitte cautioned.

Tara glanced at Oriana.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

Brigitte stormed over to the door and pulled it open with a, “Cause if you do I’ll…”  she cut off at seeing Oriana. “Well if it isn’t Orin. Good morning.” She changed her tone instantly back to her usually friendly chipper self.

Tara softened her voice, “I won’t tell anyone else.  We just want to talk. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”  Brigitte insisted.  “I’m just getting my shit in a line so I can get back to my apartment.  We got a lot of work to do if we’re going to get you into that next tournament.”

Tara’s brow wrinkled, “What are you babbling about now?”

Brigitte went back into her room allowing the other women to follow.  “Riverboat tournament. Philly. Big prize money, enough to set things right from last night’s loss and get us the property.  We won’t be building shit yet, but at least you won’t have to worry about your dream spot going to someone else.”

“Where are the bruises from?” asked Oriana. “You’re your own person. Not prying. Okay fine- a little. But you went halfway around the world to help me- to help Tara. In my experience, when you’re part of a team you need to lean on other people. If you want to tell us to fuck off, that you’re just into kinky shit or whatever, that’s fine. But between the three of us, I think we can handle just about anything. So just tell us what’s up, we’ll fix it, and while you’re at it if you could maybe grab me a longer skirt that would be fantastic. I look like a hooker.”

Brigitte chuckled, “A hooker with a weird librarian thing going on maybe…”  She grabbed a skirt out of her bag and tossed it to Oriana. “That should be a bit better, though I can only do so much for Tara’s taste in patterns.  That top is… okay.”

“Thanks. Now spill.” Oriana disappeared into the bathroom but left the door open to listen.