Thread: Perfect Stranger (SevenxBathos)

The palm trees in Echo Park swayed rhythmically to the beat of the summer breeze, but the night air was so hot that the wind provided no relief for anyone looking to find comfort out of the ridiculous tropical temperatures even at eight in the evening when the sun had long gone down, men and women alike moved through the streets in as few clothes as they could legally get away with wearing. But within the gilded walls of the Giza Ducasse restaurant, the temperatures were carefully controlled and monitored, and the clients inside - they weren't diners in the Ducasse, for the amount they paid, they were clients because they had to be a very particular sort to be able to afford the place - were dressed respectably, the sort of high society gathering that paid more for their suits and skirts than most people paid for their cars. As a rule, Nicholas Godwit usually kept out of these sorts of places it wasn't that he couldn't afford them - far from it, in fact, he was so well-off and personally successful that finances were never a question for him, even in the trying times of recession - but it was more that he had never quite felt right about it, had always felt out of place, a bit like he was sitting in someone else's skin when he set foot in fanciful, gourmet five-star restaurants. He adjusted the tastefully striped silk tie around his neck he looked the part, of course - at thirty-three, Godwit was tall with a healthy tapering build, a man with fine dark features and the broad, graceful hands of a pianist and he was currently dressed in a flawlessly tailored black Armani suit, surrounded by a table of ten, most of whom were friends and acquaintances of his - with the exception of those on either side of him. The rough, tall thing to his left was Michael, a man he had known for years and one of the few who would understand precisely how uncomfortable he was in a restaurant like the Giza, and to his right, in stark contrast was his fiancee of three months, Bianca. It was currently her twenty-fifth birthday and it had been her wish to dine there, and Nicholas - always eager to please, particularly when it came to the object of his affections, of which there had been an unfortunate many - had essentially bought the reservations just to ensure she would have what she wanted for her birthday. And despite the new string of sparkling diamonds that surrounded her toothpick-thin wrist, Bianca did not look like she was having a particularly happy birthday in fact, as Nicholas rose for a toast and lifted the over-priced champagne, she looked positively sour - she was a beautiful woman in the way that ice sculptures were beautiful, and she was about as cold too. Obsessed with her weight, at a height of 5'9, Bianca was lucky to weigh 115 pounds while soaking wet when Nicholas had first met her, she had been a brunette, but since then had bleached out her hair and eyebrows to a white-blonde, and with her blue eyes, colourless skin, and her current choice of a nearly sheer white dress, she appeared about as welcoming as a winter storm, an ice floe next to the tropical warmth her future husband's dark suit, honey-coloured eyes, and dazzling white smile. Well, Nicholas said, shuffling on the spot and clearing his throat nervously as the entire table turned their eyes to him he tugged at his collar reflexively, which earned a laugh around the table, which he responded to with a sheepish smile, To the lovely future Mrs. Godwit, happy birthday, my love - I hope to share many more of these days with you. Eyes flicked to Bianca, who pulled one of her thin little cigarettes from her clutch purse, and lit it efficiently she took a draw on it, and blew the smoke irritably upwards, her blue eyes narrowed at Nicholas. When she realized she was being watched by a suddenly awkward group of people, a smile appeared on her face, but it was a distinctly unpleasant expression because it drew up her face and never touched her eyes, and there wasn't even a hint of teeth in it. It was a smile that indicated the exact opposite of what it should have. She flicked her head back, knocking some of her hair away from her neck and shoulder before she put the cigarette down onto an ash tray, picked up her glass of red wine, and stood as well, I also propose a toast, Bianca said, and her throaty voice was lined with a distinct poison, and she directed her gaze to the rough-looking man to Nicholas' left, First, to Michael, whose constant, constant presence in our lives is just so, so appreciated. It's good to know that, should I ever need to consult someone about which trashy skin club would be the best to visit, I will merely have to browse around my fiancee's condominium on any particular day and find which room he's been occupying at the time. There was a general holding of breath at the table, and Nicholas' 100-watt smile had faltered and had changed to a gritting of teeth, like a man bracing himself for an oncoming wave, Now Bianca, Nicholas began, but Bianca raised a pale hand, sticking her index finger in the air in a visual 'shush' before she actually placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him back into his seat despite being much, much bigger than her, Nicholas was too stunned to disobey, and Bianca came up behind him, keeping one hand on his shoulder, And secondly, to Nicholas, my dear Nick, she said, We've been together going on a year now, most of which has consisted of you being away on business trips, and as good as you look, and as good as your wallet looks, I find that you are ultimately so utterly suburban that I can't even imagine spending one more birthday in your uncultured presence. I'm afraid I'm going to have to replace you with a newer model, but really, thank you for the diamonds. And then, with nothing left to say, she soundly dumped her glass of red wine onto the top of his head, picked up her cigarette, and walked away, leaving the table in silence - in fact, leaving the entire restaurant in silence, and Nicholas quietly absorbing wine into the collar of his white dress shirt. After a time, he shifted his jaw, carefully picked up a napkin and blotted some of the wine out of the corner of his eye, and said, So, I suppose no one is really in the mood for souffle at this point.