Poker Night [closed]

The place was falling apart. The whole set of apartments looked like it might have crawled out of the wrong end of a horse and dragged itself through the forests of Vermont to plant roots on the far side of Pilot Ridge. And if the outside looked this bad, Leila couldn’t imagine how bad it would be inside. Knowing Cobalt, well…she shuddered, and the window panes rattled in a loose breeze.

Leila straightened her shoulders, grabbed the box of cleaning supplies, and marched up to the door. She set everything on the front step and started banging on the front door. “Blue!” she shouted. “Open up! I know you’re in there, you big baby. Let me in!”

Some people leaving the complex stared at her. She smiled politely at them. “Poor Daddy—he’s getting a bit strange in his old age, needs me to come by and help him out every once in a while.”

She turned back to the door and started pounding again. After a few minutes she pulled out her keys and looked through them to find the right one. She unlocked the door and deadbolt, then opened it as much as the chain would allow.

“Blue, open up, or I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll—“

The door clicked open. Leila hopped inside and spoke vaguely in the direction of the deepest shadow behind the door.

“I’ve had the key for a while, and I followed you home once. But really, it wouldn’t have been hard to find you. I just look for the most run-down place I can find. Though I gotta hand it to you, this place is a keeper.”

Even without shadow manipulation Leila wouldn’t have been able to find Cobalt in this gloom. She picked her way over to the main window and tore off the cardboard. “You should be grateful,” she said, opening up the rusty window. “I didn’t bring Athena, and I even brought along some nice curtains for you.” She wandered into the kitchen. “You may want to go hide in your bedroom for a while. I’m not going to clean in there—one room to yourself, right? I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out.”

She ushered him into the back room and shut the door. “All right, she said, placing her hands on her hips. “Let’s get started on this.”

Leila put on a pair of giant headphones and turned up the music. Then she got to work, picking up trash, washing windows, vacuuming, and lots of dusting.

Once the place was clean—it had only taken about eight hours, including lunch, and Leila was impressed with the results—she added a few final touches. She hung up some new curtains, brought in a new table and chairs she’d brought over from her place, and put a big sign in the front yard reading “COBALT’S HOUSE.” The last thing she did was tuck a camera in the back corner of a bookshelf, aimed at the new table and chairs.

“You can come out now,” she said, taking off her headphones. “Now so you know, I put what was left of the cleaning supplies under the sink in the kitchen. There was a leak there, so I fixed that. I also washed and organized your dishes; now the food isn’t stored with the pans, it’s in the pantry. Your toilet is clean, though I wasn’t willing to do the shower, so just don’t open the shower curtain, okay? And now, then, we come to the best part.”

Leila went over to the main window and closed the bottom layer of the curtains. “Okay, so these curtains have two parts,” she said. “This heavy fabric here is specially made—it won’t let any light through. So you can just keep this closed and not worry about the sun, and it looks better than the cardboard. But even better…” she closed the other set of curtains over the light-blocking fabric. “Look, I painted this for you! Now you’ll have a pretty landscape to look at even though you don’t ever look outside!”

She stood for a moment in the main room, then went over to the kitchen. “I also put one on the kitchen window and in the bathroom. Plus, I put in a dining table for you to eat at and some extra chairs for guests.”

Leila looked at Cobalt, put her arms out, and smiled. “Whaddya think?”

Josh had been flattered to receive an invitation to a poker night hosted by Cobalt and Leila. He hadn't participated in anything remotely similar since Sean had moved to Vermont years earlier, but now was as good a time as any to refresh himself on one of their favorite (non-political) college pastimes. Even better, he had recognized every name mentioned in the invitation save one, which meant the night would be less awkward than if he was entirely unacquainted with anyone else and had to socialize in a group full of people who already knew one another. Even more fortunately he liked everyone who was supposed to attend and had been hoping for an excuse to get to know them better; what a wonderful opportunity this was! And so he had very promptly written back that of course he would come, thank you kindly for inviting him.

The only trouble this left was what to do about the food or dessert and a drink to share because his skills in the kitchen were rather abysmal. Was it appropriate to bring something he'd bought at the store? He had to assume that the other attendees would appreciate that more than they would his attempts to cook or bake something; at least if he bought it at the store it could safely be considered edible. If he braved the kitchen himself he could make no such promises.

Even buying enough of one item for a party proved to be a challenge as the deli clerks at the grocery store informed him that telling them that morning that he needed something by that night was not enough advanced notice and the bakery had a similar reaction. Thus he had opted for donuts, because donuts were universally loved and donut shops were used to people ordering several dozen with little to no advanced notice.

Preparing wasn't entirely a loss, however, as he very fortunately had transportation in the form of Sean; otherwise he wasn't entirely sure how he would have managed carrying boxes of donuts using only his bicycle, particularly as he was still unfamiliar with the area and liable to get lost on his own. At least if he had gotten lost he wouldn't have starved...

"Thank you, Jeeves, I don't know how I would manage without you." Josh informed his friend gratefully as they pulled up to Cobalt's, which was very helpfully labeled with a very large, very festive sign. "It's very friendly of Mr. Weaver to invite everyone over like this..." He added, attempting to carry donuts and ring the door bell at the same time. "It's a fantastic idea, though, good way to get to know people. I wish I'd thought of it."

Leila shuffled past Cobalt and headed toward the door. She made sure she was smiling and opened the door very slowly, giving the cranky bastard time to hide in a corner.

"Welcome!" she said loudly. "Good to see you, Josh. And you, too, Sean, I'm really glad you both could make it. Here, let me help you with those." She grabbed some of the donuts from Josh and the wine from Sean. She carried it into the kitchen and set it all down.

"I'm glad you both brought sweet things. I've got a horrible sweet tooth, and if you think I'm bad, well..."

Leila grabbed a cookie and handed it, wrapped in a napkin, to Cobalt. "Try not to get crumbs everywhere," she said. "I just vacuumed, you know."

"So." She turned back to the guests. "I'm not sure all of you have met. I know Josh knows everyone, and I remember Dr. Sean from school, but I'm not sure about Cobalt. Cobalt, this is Dr. Sean Neville. Dr. Neville, this is Cobalt Weaver, my partner at the law firm. Now that that's done, let's go ahead and get you settled in. What do you guys think of the place? Didn't he pick just the darndest place to set up shop? Oh, hold up a moment. I need to turn on some music."

Leila ran to her oversized purse and pulled out her iPod boombox. She placed her 120 gig iPod (she'd named it George and taped the name to the back) inside and turned up the volume all the way.

"I really wanted to set the mood, so I made a special playlist for the occasion. I hope you guys don't mind Lady Gaga."

Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my poker face... went the music in the background.

"You two can just go ahead and sit down. It shouldn't be too much longer before the other guests arrive."

Cobalt was rarely without words. Whether or not he chose to say them or not, he always had something he could say. Now, however, it was as though every secret fear and cold-sweat nightmare were rising up from the pits of hell in the form of his goddamned intern and her insanity. He gaped at her as she pulled open the door to his house and in arrived Joshua Bernstein and some other man he didn’t know. He stared from Leila to Josh to Leila and tried to summon the wherewithal to say “why the hell are these people in my house”. As it stood at the moment, Cobalt was still trying to gather himself enough to stop gaping at everyone. He pulled the shadows closer in around himself and tried to get his bearings.

They were bringing in food. Why did they bring food? What was going on? He stared at his intern, who was chirping happily in conversation with these people. Who were in his house. Without his permission. He stared dumbly as Leila introduced them to him. Dr. Sean Neville. He probably worked for Hammel. If Cobalt wasn’t feeling so disoriented, he would have glared at the man, just to make clear his opinions. But at the moment, he was just waiting for someone to explain what they were doing here.

“Wh--” Cobalt tried to get Leila’s attention after introductions, but she ran to her ludicrously-sized purse and pulled out what appeared to be her mp3 player. She proclaimed the artist to be “Lady Gaga” and he wasn’t sure who that was, but at this point, he was dangerously close to overload, so he said nothing, opting not to even look at the other men. Slowly, he was putting the pieces together: Leila arrives at his apartment early this morning, she cleans his apartment for almost eight hours, people arrive at his house, bringing food, music is playing…

Guests?

Oh god.

This was some kind of social event. Leila, his intern had invited people to his house for some kind of social situation. Which meant that they weren’t going to leave anytime soon. Cobalt would never admit to being afraid of anything, but the prospect of spending an indefinite amount of time with people he either didn’t know or barely knew—with the expectation that he would have to play host—was causing panic to coil in his belly and at this point, he was fairly certain he had so many shadows wrapped around him, it was a wonder any of them could see him.

Without saying a word to Josh and Sean, he stumbled across the room, intent on catching his intern and demanding to know what these people were doing here and why she couldn’t have done this at her house, or some other location not here when—

The doorbell rang again.

Cobalt jumped almost a foot in the air at the sound, and then flushed, scowling. Get ahold of yourself, Weaver, he thought irritably, and he marched to the door and threw it open to reveal a very tall complete stranger. And the fact that there was some kind of sign advertising where he lived. This was so out of hand.

“Who are you?” He’d wanted to sound irritated and forbidding but instead came out desperate and panicking. This was not good.

Clarisse gently depressed the button of the doorbell, delicately balancing a small arrangement of flowers in her hand along with three bottles of wine. Excessive? Perhaps. But none the stranger for a French woman. If this was a new home ( and home was a word used loosely), it needed wine. The end. Granted, she wasn’t sure of the type of person the was actually welcoming to Pilot Ridge, but the charming young woman who’d invited her in the first place was enough to make Clarisse trust the shady building. Leila had instructed Clarisse to bring “food or drink or dessert”…well…wine was a drink. And what better way to welcome someone to a new town than some Pinot Noir and a Reisling? Maybe it’s a Parisian thing…She’d have to whip up a sweet in the kitchen to be sure she met the requirement for food and drink.

Frankly, it was a bit surprising Clarisse wasn’t more nervous. She had never met Leila in person and she didn’t even know who Cobalt Weaver was. Yet somehow knowing the rest of the guest list made her feel better:



This Riley fellow or lady---Clarisse couldn’t be sure--- was the only name she didn’t recognize and everyone else was affiliated with Hammel or someone she’d already met. It made sense in the current situation (with a puppeteer running around and all_) for her to be more cautious, but she needed something--anything really--somewhat normal to cling to. Poker Night? That sounded normal enough to her. Besides, she’d been looking for a good excuse to see Joshau again, and to meet Sean in a non-professional (and non Red-Alert) atmosphere. All in all, Clarisse was determined to make it a good night.

…Was that Lady Gaga playing?

She tilted her head and shifted nervously, the wine bottles clanking against the small vase full of daisies. Clarisse waited carefully outside the door, careful not to spill water against her cream-colored sundress. Her kitten-heeled feet shifted nervously and she bit her pink stained lips. The music sounded like something off a student’s iPod, not an older gentleman.

Oh well. Either way she’d be popular. She was carrying two bottles of wine.

Cobalt certainly had plenty he’d like to say to his intern. Loudly. With much anger. But instead he groaned quietly and scowled at the ground. for me, the kid asked, as if she didn’t know how to manipulate him with those two words. She was far too spoiled for her own good. Cobalt resolved to not be such a pushover. Tomorrow.

“You are on paperwork duty for a month!” He called after her as she walked into the kitchen. “And the next time you want a party, you go to your own apartment.” She didn’t show any sign of having heard him. He sighed, then winced at the music, “What is this?” He muttered to himself as the doorbell rang.

What, there were more people? Cobalt swallowed against the uprising feeling of panic and limped to the door.

He blinked in surprise at the sight of a well-dressed woman at the door instead of the common theme of men at or around his age. She looked a little older than Leila, but definitely younger than himself. And he couldn’t very well be rude to her; she looked just as out of place in her (slightly overdressed) sundress as he felt in this mess.

“Er.” Cobalt stepped aside and opened the door wider, “Come in. Ah. I… don’t believe we’ve met. Cobalt Weaver.” He shifted uncomfortably before holding out his hand to shake hers. “You can… Er. Just. Make yourself at home, I suppose.” He, at this very moment, absolutely hated his intern for making him play host for a bunch of people he didn’t even know. He scanned the room moodily. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; at the very least he was acquainted with Josh. He saw Josh give him a sideways glance as he inspected Leila’s mp3 player. He looked a little confused. Cobalt supposed he could at least talk to Josh while he tried to figure out what was going on. At the very least, he wouldn’t be strapped for conversation with the other man, since they so clearly shared the same viewpoints. Also, Josh was easier to talk to—all Cobalt had to do was let him talk.

“Hello Leila,” Sean smiled at the young woman when she came out to greet them, before she bounced off to start playing music. Unfortunately, it was Lady Gaga, which meant that later he would have to sneak off and change the selection, but it could wait.

If there had been any doubt as to whether Sean had met their host before, it was removed when he laid eyes on the designated Cobalt Weaver, or Blue. Sean had no recollection of ever seeing him before and his mind was unfamiliar, which was his litmus test. He looked just old enough to have been at Hammel – if indeed he had been – in that period between Sean’s time as a student and his time as a psychiatrist. And when shadows began to pool at Cobalt’s feet, his time at Hammel was confirmed in Sean’s mind. That was secondary, however, to the other man’s surprise at seeing them, and immediately it made sense why Sean would be invited to a stranger’s house.

The stranger – the host had no idea that he was hosting a party tonight. He saw it in Cobalt’s mind and in Leila’s as well; she had done this behind his back. Although the psychiatrist tried to school his expression, he was mortified for being caught up in this, and he was also immediately apologetic. But because the other man was a stranger, he didn’t offer a telepathic apology as was his instinct.

When he and Josh were alone again, he stepped over to his friend, dropping his voice, “I know everyone but one person too, our host. I don’t think he knew there was a party tonight.” He had no qualms revealing that to Josh; the other man had also accidentally committed a faux pas and he was his best friend, privy to his secrets. “I work with Clarisse and Anya, who I want you to meet; she’s very nice once you get to know her.” He said the same about Josh to other people. “I taught Leila, and I...went to school with Riley.” Riley had been at Hammel when Sean was an older student, but he still had that reputation from when he was younger; he hoped nobody brought up that everyone thought him an oversensitive freak among freaks back then, tonight. “And you should be proud of yourself for building up such a nice social circle; soon you won’t need me at all anymore. Once you get your license.” Once he let Josh touch his car again to resume their lessons.

Thankfully, Clarisse had arrived, helping to break up the tension; Sean would have to give her a hug later for that alone. Smiling at her, he turned and offered to take one of the bottles of wine. “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes...welcome to the party.” Although it was bizarre to welcome a person to someone else’s home, Sean felt more comfortable doing it since that was the situation into which they’d been thrown, considering his realization. It was problematic but Sean would simply deal with it and apologize when he was alone with the host later.

He gestured at Josh, still standing beside him, and spoke to Clarisse. “I know that you two already met, but I’d like to introduce you anyway. Josh is my oldest and dearest friend; he’s also my partner when we play any doubles games. And Clarisse is a miracle worker – forgive the slip – with the children’s side effects.”