“Aaaand that’s it.”

Frederic signed the last paper and placed the Parker on the table with a sigh, letting the secretary, a pretty blonde with short-cut hair, gather the papers and the pen and wiggle her ass away, out of the conference room. “Aww, I thought she’d let me keep the pen.” He turned towards Neon, who sat with an indecipherable expression at the head of the table. “But your secretary’s hot, I have to admit.” Frederic smiled with certain encouragement.

“She’s not a secretary,” Neon said emotionlessly, staring at the far-off wall where Immanuel Staccato looked proudly and sternly over the spacious conference room, with a window-wall staring out at the city. “Her name’s Rachel. She’s a paralegal working on the deal.”

“You don’t keep a paralegal…” Frederic said slowly.

“You don’t,” Neon corrected, standing up. “The label’s yours now. She’s from R&T, the agency downstairs. The law firm.” Slowly, the man walked up to the portrait and took it off the wall, for the first time in many years. A ring of dust rounded the now-empty rectangle on the wall.

Frederic felt sudden, inappropriate unease in the air. His friendship with Neon had been more than bright, always; he knew there was positively nothing that could break the cheerful Italian down… but this. This, was weird. “I’m not really into her,” he said, trying to lighten the mood somehow. “I’m more into cowgirl-types.” Neon just kept staring at the portrait. Jesus Christ, Neon, you’re scaring me. “Did you know that Octavia has a twin sister who lives in Texas? My God, she’s hotter than the gates of hell.”

Neon walked slowly towards the window. Desperately, Frederic carried on: “When we were still dating, Octavia and I, we came to visit her. It’s like Octavia, only with bigger boobs and a nice shirt and a Stetson. I so tried to coax her into a threesome, but…” The man laughed artificially. “You know, sisters. Kinda forgot that. I mean, who wouldn’t, what with-”

Neon opened the tall window, easily man-high; immediately, Frederic knew it was a deep architectural flaw. Something could… fall out. Neon extended his hand and dropped the picture, the frame bouncing off comically, flying down the skyscraper’s length. In Neon’s eyes, there was calm, tranquil estimation. “He took my sister away from me.” Frederic tensed up terribly. Something’s wrong. Something’s amiss. Then it dawned on him: finally, all that hurt and pain had got to his friend. Neon, right here, was breaking down, and this was his Rubicon.

Slowly, Neon turned towards Frederic, his back to the gaping abyss of the open window carelessly. “And my sister took away my mother from me.” Frederic gulped, trying to stand up unnoticed, to be able to grasp the Staccato heir before he did something stupid. “And now your ex has taken my sister again.” From the inner pocket of his jacket, Neon took out a gun.

“Holy shit!” Frederic wanted to recoil, but only managed to freeze in place, his mind stuck in time. Is that how it happens? Shit. I’ve so much left to do! I have a- Well, I don’t have a- But I! I never tried anal sex yet! I can’t die now!

From the other inner pocket, Neon took a silencer and attached it steadily. “You know what a silencer is good for, Freddie?” he wondered in an I’ve-just-gone-mad voice.

“Neon, you have to relax.” Frederic gulped, his hands trembling, his gut about to throw up. You’re batshit crazy, Neon. Jesus. You, of all people! “Let’s just… have a walk.” To a clinic where I pay them your whole fucking label so they can cure the crazy out of you.

Neon smiled, gazing at the gun. “It silences.”

That’s it. Frederic shut his eyes tight. Dying like a Chicago executive in the sixties. Irony sucks. Mentally, he sent a prayer. Dad, sorry for eating your fries back then. Minutes passed, but there was never a shot. Slowly, Frederic opened his eyes. Neon was standing far away, by the open window, looking outside. The gun was lying on the table. Frederic grabbed it immediately, shoving it away. I’m alive! I’m alive! Now, Frederic knew how truly happy he was; how much his life was worth to him. Solemnly, he made a promise to himself to learn how to dance and finally study his home language, just so he could read Quo Vadis? in the original Polish.

“It’s a quote from a book I’ve read recently,” Neon said vaguely, the tips of his shoes glancing outside into the roaring nothingness beneath. “I’ve always wondered what the last book I’d read would be. It’s a fucking scary thought,” he added.

“Neon, buddy,” Frederic urged, standing up very slowly, so as not to make any noise. “Let’s just go for a walk in the park, huh?” He inched towards his friend cautiously, estimating the distance to make the grab. “How’s that sound?” Finally, he was close enough. He leapt towards Neon.

Neon jumped.

“Didn’t really know Francisc had a son.”

Octavia shook her head, sipping on the late-night wine in the little garden at their villa. The cellist blinked at such a thought. It’s not really our villa… she thought sadly. But we should totally buy it. If only Francisc just would sell it to us… Or maybe just give it to us. As an anniversary present. For a week of non-stop sex. A sexiversary.

Antonio wrapped his slender fingers around the tall wine glass, taking a sip with a smile. “Don’t think he knows either.” The quiet night carried his pleasant baritone across the garden.

Vinyl frowned deeply, not liking the joke in the slightest. “How do you mean?”

Octavia silently propped her head on her elbows.

“He doesn’t know he has a son,” Antonio explained simply. “Well, technically, he does. If he remembers. His wife isn’t my mother. When he was younger - way younger, that is…” He took a sip of his wine. “He had a, let’s say… an affair, with a beautiful Serbian woman who so happened to become pregnant with me thereafter. Of course,” the man concluded, “Francisc got married soon - he was actually engaged when he had this affair with my mother - so he didn’t want to hear a thing about having a son and…” He finished off the wine. “Well, that’s pretty much it. He doesn’t know who I am, and, frankly, I think he chose to forget he had a son altogether.”

Vinyl gasped, looking at her lover sadly. Octavia did not even flinch. Thus, she decided to take the soothing words in her own hands. Erm. Lips. “I’m very sorry, Antonio. It’s… bad.” She glanced at Octavia, who was still silent, her eyes fixed very firmly on the man’s face, as if she were trying to read him.

“It is what it is,” the young man countered. “I don’t blame him. My mom and I are well and well-off too. And Francisc… Everyone has done something bad. There aren’t any good people left nowadays.”

Vinyl frowned, receiving no support of protest from her girlfriend. “I don’t think it’s true. I don’t mean to boast but-”

“You aren’t particularly sinless either,” Antonio countered dully. “From what I can understand. Neither am I. Neither is anyone.”

“What do you mean?” Vinyl felt a sting of hurt. This fine gentleman, who’d saved her from a dangerous bully, was now saying such cynical things… “I don’t get it.”

“I think I got it,” Octavia said finally, leaning in slightly, looking straight into the man’s blue eyes. “You don’t really like gays, do you?” She turned to Vinyl. “He knows.” But how?

Antonio winced - but nodded. “I wouldn’t say I’m a homophobe.” He sipped a little more wine, visibly trying to find the most non-offensive words. “What I mean is…”

“Say what you mean,” Vinyl quickly supplied, in a confused mood. “I mean, um, you totally saved me back there with that guy, so, uh, I won’t really get offended.” Blinking at the equally confused stares both from Octavia and Antonio, she blushed thickly and returned to her pomegranate juice. “Um. Sorry for interrupting.”

“I don’t mind gays existing and having sex and living together and what-not,” Antonio explained, with a soft, yet by no means apologetic tone, in a voice of a man with a moral code. Or, at least, a solid opinion. “I did vote against same-sex marriage at the referendum. And the rest of Croatia seems to have agreed with me. You see, I’m a conservative man. I’m religious. I like tradition. I don’t mind gays,” he repeated, “but I do not believe in gay pride or equality of your unions and traditional unions. God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve,” he finished with a tiny smile.

Octavia chuckled very mildly. It’s easier for her, Vinyl concluded, because she’s not really gay. Vinyl felt something like sadness creeping inside; she really was grateful to Antonio - and she really did hope they could become friends. But, with an attitude like his, he won’t want to become our friend…

Antonio sighed, stretching a little. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call. Legal help, anything. I’ll be there. Now…” He stood up. “I get it that, with my view on your orientation, you don’t really want to see me around here, all be it my father’s villa.” The man chuckled a little and buttoned his jacket, turning round rather fashionably.

Octavia’s eyes lingered on the lower side of the man’s body. My. God. Dat ass. I need a piece of that quasihomophobic ass in my life, pronto. “Don’t say that,” she reasoned weakly. “We don’t think bad of you because of your opinion.” Vinyl nodded. “We all have opinions.” For one, I think we should have a threesome right now. Devil Octavia nodded: That’s my opinion, and I respect it. “It’s all right to have opinions. So long as you don’t think all gays should die, I’m all right with you.” Also, your ass scores some good points. When you see us in action, you’ll reconsider- Angel Octavia shut her ears, singing Lord’s Prayer over the tune of Joy to the World.

“Heh, usually the liberal part of the world takes great offence at my opinion and thinks I should burn at a stake. God bless Croatia and orthodox people.” Antonio lingered, his eyes scrutinising the two women. “Usually, it’s the straight people who are the most hating on behalf of gays. But you don’t seem like the guys who’d lead a gay parade through the street.” Antonio smiled warmly. “I think, if we both can accept our opinions, we can manage just fine.”

Yess! Octavia scored a point for Team Threesome. “Vinyl would sooner faint than appear at a gay club, not to mention a parade.”

Vinyl opened her mouth to protest, but when she realised that there was nothing to protest against but the truth - and that she was having trouble putting thoughts to words, instead mumbling something very quietly - the spinner closed her mouth and nodded briefly. This Antonio doesn’t seem like a bad guy. Weird but neat. She cast a glance at her lover, who seemed to approve of something in Antonio that she herself could not yet quite grasp. Must be his honesty. Or boldness. Or- Oh. Oh Jesus.

“I’ll see you around then.” With that, the man prepared to take his leave.

“Antonio!” Octavia called out. The man turned round. “Why are you helping us?”

The tall, slender, handsome man sighed and smiled the kind of smile that made Octavia melt and wish Vinyl appreciated the beauty of the penis variety. ‘Cause I love her so much that it’d be impossible to have sex without her now… “Octavia. Whatever I may think of my father; whatever you may think of your father; our fathers are friends. Close friends are family. At least that’s what they taught me in Church. Family always helps family.”

Octavia nodded, slowly, respectfully. I could bet a tenner on his being a capo. He is definitely a capo. No doubt here. The man left, closing the fence behind him. Uuh… Such an ass… If only Vinyl were bisexual too! Oh, all the secret butt fun we’d have!

Vinyl sighed, finishing off her pomegranate juice. What a weird guy. Hope we can still be friends after all. “Tavi,” she said suddenly. “Do you think your dad loved you after all?” Damn, I shouldn’t have asked this- I’m just a- UH!

Octavia smiled very slightly, pouring herself a new glass of wine. “I think he still does. What kind of dad would he be if he didn’t?”

Vinyl did not reply to that. Instead, she asked, “Do you think what Antonio said- do you think he meant it, family and helping and all?”

Octavia nodded. “Oh yes. I’m sure of it.” Also, dat a-

“You were thinking of having sex with him, weren’t you?”

Octavia did a very beautiful, by-the-book spittake on her wine. For a while, she just coughed, receiving a few vigorous pats on the back from her lover. “No!” she managed finally, looking into Vinyl’s eyes. “Okay, technically, yes. But I thought about us having sex with him. A threesome!” the cellist exclaimed cheerfully. Vinyl took a cautious look at her shoulder. As expected, Angel Vinyl was faint, held steadily by Devil Vinyl. How did these two get along? “Also, I was just considering the possibility of touching his ass,” Octavia confessed.

Vinyl raised her brow. “Isn’t my ass good enough?” she asked demandingly.

Octavia’s eyes widened. “No! I mean yes! I mean, your ass is the best!” Heatedly, Octavia leant in for a kiss.

Vinyl met her lips - but withdrew a little too soon. “Touch my ass,” she demanded, her eyes heated up, her breath intoxicating, her arms magnetic. “Right now.”

Octavia opened her mouth and closed it immediately. Such boldness - this degree of boldness - this tone, this posture, this look - this was all something she had hoped for but never truly expected from her timid lover. Without reluctance, she placed her palm on Vinyl’s ass cheek, squeezing it. With a smile, Vinyl placed her hand on top of her girlfriend’s, guiding it to-

Octavia jerked up, wide-eyed. “You. Me. Bedroom. Now.”

The moon stared with its unblinking gaze at the two women running through the garden and rolled on towards the peak of the soft summer night.

Next Chapter: Part Four Marker Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 39 Minutes