West Hollywood was home to plenty of fancy restaurants, so Andrew Adonis didn't bother trying to remember the name of this one. The joint was upscale and Californian to the core, and to say the booths were intimate would be an understatement. Their plush red velvet seats and low light provided by ornate chandeliers above every table evoked a romantic air; the place was strategically constructed to provide complete privacy to people in the booths, with thick curtains drawn over each opening and a light above the entryways to signify when a waiter or waitress was wanted. It was ostensibly a place for couples, but it had the added benefit of being an excellent place to discuss business.
David Dukakis, dancer and fashion designer extraordinaire, always chose this place. It didn't matter if it was a new model, a partner-in-business, or a partner-in-crime, there were two gauntlets one had to run before he brought you into his fold. It was incredible, Adonis mused, that such a public figure still managed to keep so much of his personal life and practices under wraps. He almost envied it. The designer always managed to cut a mysterious figure while still being completely recognizable, his dark skin contrasting with his lurid purple-and-orange makeup and violently violet snakeskin jacket. His hair today was two-toned purple as well, cascading down his smooth cheeks and framing his face in an elegant bob cut.
The two men stirred the cocktails they had both ordered, Adonis's pure vodka with an olive, Dave's an abomination of gaudy and corrosive liqueurs. The agent from Hollywood sipped his first, the fine alcohol causing him to repress a shudder as it smoothly glided down his throat, leaving fire in its wake. The fashion expert smiled, a drop of his own drink glistening on his dark purple lips and threatening to fall as it trembled. His mouth parted open as he inserted the stirring stick into his gaping hole and onto his tongue. He ran it across the muscle, a satisfied sigh escaping the back of his throat, and his slender hands picked his martini glass up and gripped it tightly. His painted nails glistened in the candlelight as he tipped the drink down into his stomach.
"So, if I am correct," Dave purred to Adonis, "you need a new pair of my finest mixed martial arts shorts."
Adonis chuckled, humorlessly. "Bud, the way you seem to guess what I need before I even tell you drives me crazy," he replied.
"One doesn't get to be a star without being a little daring," Dukakis replied. His tongue flicked out to taste his cocktail again. Adonis cocked an eyebrow. His sunglasses were in his breast pocket, and his gaze traveled across the other man's face. He laughed.
"Ain't that the truth," Adonis replied. "Lemme tell you, this Vis Imperium business..."
"Booming?"
"Astonishing."
Adonis sipped his cocktail again, and refused to shudder.
"So Banksy - that's Mr. Banks - Yeah, Banksy and I, we have a little rapport, you could say. A back-and-forth. A gentlemen's agreement."
"Ah, my favorite kind," Dave replied, smirking.
"Bingo," Adonis said. "I'm always in calls with the suits in those offices, but at least Banks was smart enough to listen and not give me the damn runaround. I ain't gonna bore you with all the details, because knowing you you've probably heard them already from the broad."
Dave plucked a cherry from his cocktail and smoothly bit it from the stem. "My dear Amber visits The Exclusive often, darling. And she always reports back to me."
"I figured. She's about as hard to get rid of as chlamydia."
"And thirteen times as dangerous."
The two men shared a laugh. Adonis pressed the Call button on his table as he continued.
"So anyway, these shorts, you know they gotta be extra durable. Banks has me in a fight."
"You?"
"Called me up himself," Adonis replied. "This ain't like the other times I volunteered, but I gotta say I'm over the moon about it."
"Is there anything I can get you gentlemen?" a female voice interrupted the conversation.
"More," Adonis replied, holding his glass out and not looking at the waitress. She took it, left, and the manager continued. "Yeah, anyway, a fight. I'm talkin' weapons and blood. So make 'em washable, too."
"How truly barbaric, and yet truly delectable," Dukakis replied, a passionate shudder causing his vividly-colored hair to swish around his sunken cheeks.
"They don't call it 'mayhem' for nothing, bud," the manager said. He folded his hands and looked into the designer's eyes. "So these shorts better be able to take a beating, because if you don't think I'm raring to beat the shit out of Tyrone Blades you're kidding yourself."
Dukakis's eyes widened at the sudden expletive from the man he knew as a businessman. Adonis grinned, every one of his beautiful white teeth visible.
"I'll be real with you, kid. I hate Tyrone Blades. You know that gorgeous suit you made me for my first night in the company?"
Dave sighed, ecstasy and pain rippling through his chest. "Gold. Satin. Custom-fit. Delicious."
"Destroyed," Adonis replied. He held out his hand and a drink from the returning waitress slid into it. He didn't bother to register the curtain closing behind her. "That two-bit thug attacked us right when we were going to walk out of the curtain, beaned my client, and slammed me against a wall. I've never forgiven him, and I never will."
"Oh, darling, there's that ruthless streak!" Dukakis exclaimed, beaming. He swallowed a mouthful of his cocktail and exhaled, his smile not traveling to his heavily-lidded eyes. "I knew you still had it in you, Andrew. You were always like wildfire in and out of the cage."
"I've been waitin' for this call for a long, long time, bud," Adonis replied, and he chuckled. "I'm gonna do more than just ground-and-pound him until I take his title. With the World's Greatest Mind in my corner, I'm pretty sure we can cook up better mayhem than some violent street rat, accolades or no. This ain't about a suit, this is about pride and this is about revenge that's been brewing from day one. If Banksy wants me to make an example out of this guy, you better believe me and Xander are gonna do just that."
Dave made an amused noise that emanated from deep in his throat. "Still gallivanting about with that delightful diplomat, I see."
"The kid's a cash cow!" he exclaimed. "He's powerful, he's smart as a goddamn whip, and hey, he's a friend. Only an idiot would sacrifice their political ties."
A small silence passed between the two men, filled in by the soft tinkling of the fountain in the lobby and the piano player tickling the ivories, both muffled by the curtains that kept them together.
"So, the broad, she tell you about Justin Cooper?"
"She did," Dave confirmed. He began to slowly slice the complementary loaf of bread on the table, not taking his eyes off of his guest.
Adonis snorted. "What a maroon!"
The artist failed to respond. The knife hit the wooden cutting board with a soft thump.
"Listen," Adonis continued, "I'm elbows-deep in this Vis Imperium business from the back-end. I look over all their contracts. I check on all their assets. They ain't my clients, but I still have plenty of strings to tug. So they come to me, right? And they all trust me."
Dave placed a buttered slice of bread between his teeth and cut it in half with his back molars and chewed slowly. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.
"Do you trust him?"
Adonis leaned forward. "I work with him," he clarified. "Do you really think I trust a guy who pinned my client right after Blades attacked us? Do you really think I trust some guy who thinks he's slick for pulling some half-assed ruse for a couple of months, who would willingly sacrifice a politician and former world champ for his own personal glory and gain? Buddy, there are only two people in that whole company who I can trust. It's been like that since day one, and it's still like that now."
Adonis took a slice of bread himself and stabbed the butter knife into it.
"I'll do what I can with that group, bud," he said through gritted teeth, "and the group's success is my success. But my client is Xander, and it's always been Xander. At least I could respect Constantine."
"John Constantine was a fine specimen." Dave sighed, airily. "Charismatic. Intelligent. A leader. I had hopes he would have come to be tailored by my brand."
"Right?" Adonis said with a mouthful of bread. "But I don't deal with that BS. I make merch. I write contracts and pressers for my guy. I'm just an agent, yeah? Who did I ever beat?"
"Tyrone Blades."
Adonis smirked and put his glasses back on. "Tyrone Blades."
The two powerful gentlemen rose as one, their outing obviously finished. They continued to maintain eye contact as they grasped hands. The deadened noise of the clientele, laughing and chattering, was their only soundtrack. Dave was the first to break the silence.
"Well, darling, I do have an appointment to get to," he said. He brushed a strand of hair away from his pointed noise. "We do have a new model to interview."
He looked into the distance and exhaled softly.
"Tiny young thing," he murmured. Slowly, his hand moved up the agent's clothed chest until it rested under his chin, the bedazzled nails tickling Adonis's ear. The agent refused to flinch. "It's almost going to be a shame..."
Andrew Adonis nodded his handsome head, his eyes hidden behind his gold aviators.
"It's a cutthroat business, Dave," Adonis replied. The smile on his face was that of a starving animal. "Sometimes you just have to make sure people want it. The real stars are willing to go all the way."
Dave nodded slowly, and closed his eyes. His hand tensed, just slightly, his index finger scraping the agent's smooth left cheek.
"You know that all too well, darling," he said.
A chuckle escaped from the manager's abdomen, his face flushed from the vodka. His lips parted. "You know I never held anything back."
The designer giggled, a cold and inhuman musical note that danced on the air and dropped like a stone. He leaned in and softly planted a kiss on Adonis's left cheek. "Murder him, Andrew. Make him pay."
The agent broke away from the artist, and he turned his head.
"You'll have my order by the end of the week, yeah?"
"Of course," Dukakis replied. "As I said, I do have appointments all week, and we really should be paying soon. Amber awaits."
"Hey, bud, I'm in the same boat," Adonis replied. "Xander and I have nothing but meetings until the day of the show. Life's tough when you're representing the only Vis Imperium member to advance in the Gold Rush."
"Well then, darling," Dave said, "I bid thee adieu."
As abruptly as the conversation had started, it was over. Adonis pressed the call button and opened the curtains. They paid, their checks separate, their tips nonexistent. Chaffeurs brought them to their separate offices, where they both worked late into the night.
Stars worried not about the lives of ants.
