18-04-2019, 11:26 AM
So Night Follows Day Pt. 19
By T. MaskedWriter with special guest author Susan Bailey
*****
"We're buying CDs and we're buying lingerie.
We'll put it on a charge account we're never gonna pay.
Department store, camera store, tobacco store, appliance store.
You buy everything you want, and then you want more."
-Warren Zevon, "Down in the Mall"
Hi, Susan here. Mander drove Julie and I to the SeaTac Mall, where we switched cars with one of the Ultimados. Then, he drove us to the airport parking garage, where we switched cars with another before going downtown to meet Helen.
"We got home like this last night." I looked over at the other rear passenger seat and said to Julie. "We changed cabs twice on the way back from the consulate, too."
Rain splattered the windshield as Mander made his way up I-5 for what had to be the fourth time for him in the past two days (If you include the drive up from Portland.).
I looked down at my outfit again and over to Julie. We were both dressed in long coats, with kerchiefs wrapped around our heads to conceal our hair. Dark sunglasses completed the look.
"Is there a special reason," I asked her. "Why Helen wants us to dress like 1970s housewives sneaking off to meet The Other Man at a seedy motel?"
"I'm guessing so that if any paparazzi get our pictures, we'll be unrecognizable."
"I don't know about that." Mander said from the driver's seat. "Two beautiful ladies with 'Er Countessness. So, three beautiful ladies? Someone's gonna wanna know who those 'mysterious beauties' with 'er are."
"Thanks. And that's why she wanted us to wear striking shoes." Julie said, before turning to me from Mander. "Any cameras we come across will all be pointed at Helena. But one of them, like Mander says, might think to care who these 'mystery women' are, so someone MAY snap a picture of us. And the shoes are a detail that'll stand out. Neither of us have ankle tattoos, so if anyone remembers us, it'll be for our feet and the shoes. If we have to risk camera exposure, those'll be the detail that draws the eye. Worst case, you have to live with the knowledge that somewhere in the South, a Baptist minister or politician is whacking off to a picture of your feet." She lowered her sunglasses and looked me in the eye. "You get used to it."
It sounded logical.
There were more protesters outside the Seattle Hotel de Società Finzione than yesterday. Different groups now, dressed for the rain. Mostly protesting all the violence from yesterday. The cops in riot gear with assault rifles were now patrolling the streets, as well as gathered around the barricades. By an astounding coincidence, one of the Ultimados had just retrieved the LeBaron, and we found the same spot vacant as yesterday.
"Sue had this idea yesterday," I told Julie as we walked. "Of grabbing a megaphone and telling all the racist assholes to go home and read a science book or something."
Julie thought about that a moment.
"Troy would approve, then he'd rethink it and disapprove. Half the crowd have their phones out and are recording this. I know the whole 'million hits on YouTube overnight' thing's only in the movies, but half the videos that get to that point started out like George Carlin said. 'There's always some dick, some yo-yo, some putz; and he is going to film EVERYTHING!' Some guy's walking around with a camera, just in case he sees something like a beautiful woman taking a bullhorn and commanding a crowd of idiots to go home and realize that other people having the same rights as them isn't a bad thing; and them all doing it. What have you said was the main lesson you took from all those years of customer service?"
"EVERYONE has ALWAYS been 'waiting twenty minutes' for their food or on hold. Never more, never less. Twenty minutes every time."
"The other thing."
I sighed.
"'That Guy' is always out there. Dammit, Troilus, you're not even here and you're right."
We made our way through the crowd. I decided not to go topless this time. Thinking about it now, it's entirely likely that someone caught me on camera. However, I wasn't doing anything anyone else in the crowd wasn't doing, and Julie's earlier example was probably true there, too: If anyone got me on film, they're probably just jerking it to my tits somewhere right now. Suzy-Ho told me she could certainly live with the knowledge as we entered the lobby.
Helen was upstairs, surveying the damage up in the La Contessa suite. None of us were in the security system to use the express elevator, and the regular elevators weren't serving that floor currently, so I tried phoning Helen from the lobby. It went through on the third try, and she sent Velazquez, now in uniform, down to collect us. The hallway upstairs to enter the suite looked like... well, like a small war had been held in it yesterday. I looked at the bullet holes, broken decorations, and the hunk of twisted metal that was one of the fire exit doors the day before and remembered seeing those explosions on the monitors. It'd been such a nice place the last time I walked through it.
By T. MaskedWriter with special guest author Susan Bailey
*****
"We're buying CDs and we're buying lingerie.
We'll put it on a charge account we're never gonna pay.
Department store, camera store, tobacco store, appliance store.
You buy everything you want, and then you want more."
-Warren Zevon, "Down in the Mall"
Hi, Susan here. Mander drove Julie and I to the SeaTac Mall, where we switched cars with one of the Ultimados. Then, he drove us to the airport parking garage, where we switched cars with another before going downtown to meet Helen.
"We got home like this last night." I looked over at the other rear passenger seat and said to Julie. "We changed cabs twice on the way back from the consulate, too."
Rain splattered the windshield as Mander made his way up I-5 for what had to be the fourth time for him in the past two days (If you include the drive up from Portland.).
I looked down at my outfit again and over to Julie. We were both dressed in long coats, with kerchiefs wrapped around our heads to conceal our hair. Dark sunglasses completed the look.
"Is there a special reason," I asked her. "Why Helen wants us to dress like 1970s housewives sneaking off to meet The Other Man at a seedy motel?"
"I'm guessing so that if any paparazzi get our pictures, we'll be unrecognizable."
"I don't know about that." Mander said from the driver's seat. "Two beautiful ladies with 'Er Countessness. So, three beautiful ladies? Someone's gonna wanna know who those 'mysterious beauties' with 'er are."
"Thanks. And that's why she wanted us to wear striking shoes." Julie said, before turning to me from Mander. "Any cameras we come across will all be pointed at Helena. But one of them, like Mander says, might think to care who these 'mystery women' are, so someone MAY snap a picture of us. And the shoes are a detail that'll stand out. Neither of us have ankle tattoos, so if anyone remembers us, it'll be for our feet and the shoes. If we have to risk camera exposure, those'll be the detail that draws the eye. Worst case, you have to live with the knowledge that somewhere in the South, a Baptist minister or politician is whacking off to a picture of your feet." She lowered her sunglasses and looked me in the eye. "You get used to it."
It sounded logical.
There were more protesters outside the Seattle Hotel de Società Finzione than yesterday. Different groups now, dressed for the rain. Mostly protesting all the violence from yesterday. The cops in riot gear with assault rifles were now patrolling the streets, as well as gathered around the barricades. By an astounding coincidence, one of the Ultimados had just retrieved the LeBaron, and we found the same spot vacant as yesterday.
"Sue had this idea yesterday," I told Julie as we walked. "Of grabbing a megaphone and telling all the racist assholes to go home and read a science book or something."
Julie thought about that a moment.
"Troy would approve, then he'd rethink it and disapprove. Half the crowd have their phones out and are recording this. I know the whole 'million hits on YouTube overnight' thing's only in the movies, but half the videos that get to that point started out like George Carlin said. 'There's always some dick, some yo-yo, some putz; and he is going to film EVERYTHING!' Some guy's walking around with a camera, just in case he sees something like a beautiful woman taking a bullhorn and commanding a crowd of idiots to go home and realize that other people having the same rights as them isn't a bad thing; and them all doing it. What have you said was the main lesson you took from all those years of customer service?"
"EVERYONE has ALWAYS been 'waiting twenty minutes' for their food or on hold. Never more, never less. Twenty minutes every time."
"The other thing."
I sighed.
"'That Guy' is always out there. Dammit, Troilus, you're not even here and you're right."
We made our way through the crowd. I decided not to go topless this time. Thinking about it now, it's entirely likely that someone caught me on camera. However, I wasn't doing anything anyone else in the crowd wasn't doing, and Julie's earlier example was probably true there, too: If anyone got me on film, they're probably just jerking it to my tits somewhere right now. Suzy-Ho told me she could certainly live with the knowledge as we entered the lobby.
Helen was upstairs, surveying the damage up in the La Contessa suite. None of us were in the security system to use the express elevator, and the regular elevators weren't serving that floor currently, so I tried phoning Helen from the lobby. It went through on the third try, and she sent Velazquez, now in uniform, down to collect us. The hallway upstairs to enter the suite looked like... well, like a small war had been held in it yesterday. I looked at the bullet holes, broken decorations, and the hunk of twisted metal that was one of the fire exit doors the day before and remembered seeing those explosions on the monitors. It'd been such a nice place the last time I walked through it.
Like, Comment and Give Rating.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)