~CHAPTER SIX~



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The four of them made their way to the large balcony, where tea had just been served. King Richie swooped Lady Moustache into a walking side hug. They whispered to each other in German as to not be heard by the others. Unknown to them, Mr. Mann had studied theatre in Germany, and was passably fluent.

“I hate you!” Lady Moustache whispered to King Richie with a very present accent.
“I love you too…” King Richie murmured back. He had a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

Lady Turncoat expressed her astonishment when her companions spoke in a language that wasn’t English. Mr. Mann considered it strange that Americans only prioritised English, he believes learning other languages and cultures is crucial to understanding social and political divides. This was something his father had instilled in him and his sister.

The breakfast tea was poured from an exquisitely fragile looking teapot. It was carefully poured into four matching tea cups that sat gracefully in the centre of their saucers. The tea smelt divine, or so Mr. Mann’s affluent companions all chimed. Mr. Mann thought it just smelt like tea.

Lady Moustache sat in the seat across from Mr. Mann. As he sat he turned his cup’s handle to face his left hand. He looked up; Mr. Mann diverted his eyes, he was caught staring again.

“I’m glad you could join us, Mr. Mann.” Lady Turncoat initiated the new conversation.

“Actually,” King Richie started. “You two are joining Mr. Mann and I for tea. I had wanted to talk with him, but we can do that privately later today.” King Richie picked up his cup to drink from it. Without delay he placed it down, trying to not look like he had just burnt his tongue.

They chatted about trivial matters, diatribes and humorous subjects. Slowly the large tray of biscuits and sweets was depleted, enjoyed mostly by the Lady’s.

Lady Turncoat had just noticed something rather peculiar just below Mr. Mann’s wrist. When he reached for a biscuit, his sleeve came up, revealing a faded red lipstick print. She reached across the table and pointed with a suggestive finger.

“Who is the lucky gurrl?” She asked playfully.

She wasn’t paying attention when Lady Moustache had kissed Pansy L’Amour’s hand just the night before. Apparently, neither was King Richie.

“Oh! Did you meet a broad at the party?” King Richie inferred, seeming incredibly interested.

Mr. Mann felt flush. He didn’t know if he wanted to answer.

“Hey! Ya know, girls don’t like being called that… actually!” Lady Turncoat gently slapped King Richie’s hand.

Mr. Mann looked at Lady Moustache, who was already staring back. In the blink of an eye, he traded out a shocked expression with one that seemed to recall something.

“Actually,” Lady Moustache started, he lifted his tea cup up. “That was me… when I greeted Pansy L’Amour last night.” He said, just before taking a slow sip from his tea.

The two muckrakers gazed at Lady Moustache, and then Mr. Mann.

“Yeah. I uh, must’ve missed it.” Mr. Mann said, studying the lipstick print to sound more believable. He didn’t overlook it, he treasured it.

Mr. Mann felt his leg and foot being caressed alluringly by the footsie across from him under the table. When he looked up again, Lady Moustache was staring at him with curiosity. Mr. Mann became frazzled.

(is he- toying with me) Mr. Mann wondered to himself. He wondered if he should toy back.
King Richie and Lady Turncoat tried to pry and tease as they finally let Lady Moustache in on their gag.

“So when DID you find out it was Mr. Mann? Hmhm, Dressed as a woman?” King Richie asked Lady Moustache as he amused himself.

Once more, Lady Moustache sensed Mr. Mann’s foot from beneath the table. (So it was him trying to play footsie with me) Lady Moustache smiled back.

“Actually, he told me. I was clueless the entire time.” Lady Moustache admitted, emberassed. He joined King Richie’s good laugh.

Mr. Mann didn’t like how Lady Moustache’s friends seemed to constantly make fun of him. The entire duration of the party, Mr. Mann was made fun of, but that didn’t bother him. He didn’t have to deal with them as much as he did.

Mr. Mann recognized a familiar shoe surrounding his own yet again.

He was trying to invoke something.

Lady Turncoat changed the subject as she grabbed the last chocolate covered-cherry. King Richie glared at her for grabbing it from his napkin.

“OK, but do you know WHO- was at the party last night? QUINCY. DUPONT.” She popped the cherry in her mouth.

“Oh not this again. You know I don’t even care to hear about him.” Lady Moustache huffed.

“Lady Turncoat, I told you not to ask about it.” King Richie gently tapped her hand. “-And that was my cherry!”

Mr. Mann dared to ask. “Who’s that…?” He avoided eye contact with Lady Turncoat.

He was afraid she’d turn into an actor that likes to start drama. Every actor he’s ever worked with was an asshole in one way or another, and he desperately hoped that he wouldn’t end up hating his favourite actress.

“He was someone I used to know.” Lady Moustache looked thoughtfully into his teacup. King Richie piped up, reasserting himself in the conversation.

“He went to school with us, he’s a real piece of shi-OW!” King Richie was surprised by the sudden kick he got from Lady Turncoat’s heel. He yanked his leg away, bumping the table with his knee. Everyone’s cups jolted and clammered as tea spilt all over the nice white tablecloth. Luckily, none of it was spilt on anyone.

King Richie stood up, his displeased expression skewed by an amused smile. Him and Lady Turncoat left the room momentarily to “discuss her recent bad manners and decorum”. Mr. Mann and Lady Moustache were left to their lonesome, unsure of what to do with themselves.

They glanced at each other every now and again, only to look away having been caught by the other. Their feet hovered around the other’s, neither of them wanted to make a move. With King Richie and Lady Turncoat gone, it felt too forward trying to continue their under-the-table game.

Eventually, Mr. Mann spoke up. “How are you feeling?” He asked directly. Lady Moustache was looking a lot better from last night, but last night was a close call.

“I suppose… I feel alright. Why? Did something happen?”

“Don’t you remember?” Mr. Mann looked confused.

“I don’t remember very much- from last night…” He shook his head, uncomfortable at the thought.

The two of them sat there a moment, Lady Moustache trying to remember something, anything. Mr. Mann, debating with himself if he should even say what he thought had happened.

Mr. Mann looked hesitantly across the table. Lady Moustache peered back, did Mr. Mann know something that he didn’t?

“All right, Lady’s, tea time is over.” King Richie barged through the door, Lady Turncoat trying to plead with the already decided German.

He lifted a shocked Lady Moustache up by the arm and pushed him and Lady Turncoat out to the entryway.

“Out out out!” He laughed at the two as they were easily quelled out the door, their faces adorned with bemusement.

He slammed the door behind them before they could get a word or a ‘wait’ out. Mr. Mann just watched, he wasn’t certain what he should’ve been doing right then. He tried not to smile. It was a bit funny to watch this commotion, but he needed to stay serious. His income could be at stake.

“Finally!” King Richie smoothed his hair back, and took a breath of relief. The two men looked at the door, that was now lightly being banged on by four bony fists.

“Now, why don’t we go have that chat…” He said to Mr. Mann. “I know a quiet place we can go.”



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© ST.Mortenson