Fantasy So Night Follows Day by TMaskedWriter

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Oh, who do you think you're fooling, Helen. We all know that Mr. Equals is going to make you take the 'don't put my half-million legitimate employees out of work' option. Shame I'll never catch one of your pictures." Whyte said, attempting to blow a smoke ring himself, but failing. Helen responded with a perfect ring, followed by a second, bigger one.

"I suppose you're right. But you should know better than anyone, Mr. Telephone Man, that communication, understanding each other, is the key to EVERYTHING! So, I'd like to thank you, Mr. Whyte." Helen said, putting her cigar in the ash tray for a moment and gesturing to go along with the rest of her statement. "For reminding me to brush up on my sign languages."

Whyte laughed out loud at that.

"Of course! Well, you ARE smart, Contessa. I should know, that's what I've been playing off from the beginning. And I can certainly tell what Mr. Equals and your late husband saw in you beyond your appearance."

"Why, thank you, Leonard." She replied with a sincere smile. "And may I say that if you'd been able to contain that Riddler-like need to outsmart your opponents before you take them down, we might've gotten another day or two out of this game. You gave Troy shit for his company's name; but checking in a month ago under the fucking name 'Leonardo Le Blanc?' You are no one to talk, Leonard. It's unhealthy, as I hope you now see. Now, I've got a question for you."

"Well, you ARE compelling me to stay seated in this chair, not make any attempt to escape or harm either of us, and to answer your questions honestly, so I guess I can't really stop you."

She looked him up and down as she took another drink. Her tongue slid between her lips before she reminded herself that she was drunk and here to end his skeevy fucking existence.

"No, you really can't. Crying fucking shame, Leonard. I don't think you get me like Mr. Zevon or Mander, but on some level, we coulda been something. So, my question, then: How the fuck can you know Troy & Julie Equals and NOT know Susan Bailey, the permanent third member of their poly-amorous marriage?"

Whyte seemed puzzled for a moment.

"Who?" Then he remembered. "Oh, right! I came across that name when my people paid off the Equals' garbagemen for their trash. Appears that Mr. Equals is pretty good about shredding anything of use to them, so based on what they put together, we concluded that it was the name that Mrs. Equals orders her sex toys and Star Trek memorabilia from the internet under. Sometimes, one and the same. I already had 'exposing the fact that you and they can control minds' to threaten you three with. I figured 'Gorgeous Artist is Closet Sex Freak and Trekkie' was, yes, a headline that people WOULD click first and the bigger story would lose focus."

Helen smiled as he spoke, which turned into a laugh at the end.

"No, Leonard, first off, there's NOTHING 'closeted' about Julie, and she calls them 'Troys.' Assigns them numbers instead of names. 'Troy 2, Troy 3," and so on. It's cute, but a little nauseating, like they've always been together. It actually goes back to when we were all toddlers and she couldn't say her Rs yet, so 'Troy,' would come out 'Toy.' Second, it's a new millennium, Mr. Whyte, Sir! GIRLS can go into the adult bookstore now. WITHOUT the accompaniment of a male relative of at least 12 years of age." She thought a moment. "That's actually worked out better for everyone; but no, they even let us BUY stuff, too! With OUR OWN MONEY, no less! Why next, us little cupcakes'll be wanting to VOTE!"