Mr. Lamonte fastened his trousers after a romp with his mistress. Shirtless, his muscles rippled with every movement, despite him being in his mid thirties. He bent over the bed, where the young woman was panting, and kissed her. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He put on his shirt, tucked it in and straightened his collar. He checked himself in her vanity mirror. His large forehead glistened with sweat, and his long, thinning hair was wild. He picked up her comb and slicked it back into place, securing his stringy mane with a band. He stroked his beard, which he swore had more hair than his head. He was getting scruffy.
He walked out without another word to the woman swooning on the bed, grabbing his coat and top hat at the door. He put them on outside, smiling his charming smile to all who passed. He made his way down Fleet Street past St. Dunstan's church.
A pole caught his eye, just above a meat pie shoppe. The swirling stark white and bright crimson called to him. He stopped in his tracks on his way home to Cary Street. He stroked his beard in thought. He could use a shave.
Mr. Lamonte ascended the stairs, already planning the lie to his wife at home. "Things ran late at the press and the barber who shaved me took forever, one hair at a time!" When they had met, mere months before, he had thought she was finally the one. Years of womanizing were over because she was the one who kept him calm. The girlfriend before her was a fiery shrew that only worsened his temper. He had cheated on her with his now-wife, but now even she left a sour taste in his mouth. Did all women nag so much?
A bell tinkled hello as he stepped inside the barber shoppe. A ghostly pale man with wild dark hair turned to Mr. Lamonte and bowed. "Good evening. How can I help you?"
"Just a shave, please," he replied, removing his hat and coat.
"Of course. Sit, sir."
The barber unsettled Mr. Lamonte, but he obeyed. "Are you new in town?"
"Been back about a month," the barber replied, stirring up a lather.
"Back? You're from here? What's your name? Perhaps we've met before."
The barber's eyes darkened. "Todd. Sweeney Todd. I've been away for a very long time."
Mr. Lamonte thought that perhaps he didn't want to know this strange man. There was something not right about him.
"What's your name, sir?" he asked, applying the lather to his cheeks.
"Thomas Lamonte," he replied, trying to catch a glimpse of the barber's hands as they darted about his face. Clouds of lather obscured his peripheral vision. "Sir, may I ask, are you married?"
Mr. Todd froze. He stood as still as a statue for a long moment, to the point that Mr. Lamonte almost got up to leave. He finally replied, "I was married once."
Mr. Lamonte threw up his left hand. "Then you know what it's like! Tell me, is every woman in the world so irritating?"
Mr. Todd grabbed his silver razor. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Always in your business, won't stop bloody talking, don't do what they're told."
Mr. Todd pressed the razor to his neck, thinking about the chatty baker downstairs. He glided the razor up. "Some are."
"There are some that are not?"
The barber continued his work, thinking of his late wife, Lucy. She had been pure and perfect, with sunshine in her hair and eyes as blue as a rare clear sky. She had been the kindest person he had ever met and loved him with her whole heart.
"The world is full of mostly shit," the barber said. "But there are a few angels among us. Hard to find, especially with the vermin of the world killing every light they find." He managed to keep his hand steady, ignoring the building rage. This man had a family.
"I hope to find an angel of my own, then," Mr. Lamonte said. "If you say they exist, I won't stop until I find my perfect woman."
"But you said you already have a wife," the barber pointed out, offering him a towel for the excess lather.
Mr. Lamonte wiped his face. "You said you were married 'once.' Not anymore?"
"My wife was taken from me and is now dead," Mr. Todd clarified, an edge to his voice.
"Hmm," he said, handing back the towel. "Perhaps I can arrange the same for mine." He smirked, feeling his cheeks. "Smooth as a baby's arse. Well done. You have aftershave, I assume? Don't want to smell ripe when I come home."
Even the murderous Sweeney Todd was astounded at Mr. Lamonte's flippant tone. He couldn't possibly be serious. He grabbed his scented oil and rubbed it on his cheeks.
When Mr. Lamonte was satisfied, he paid him and said, "I'll surely be doing business here from now on."
"Thank you for your patronage," Mr. Todd muttered.
Mr. Lamonte left with another chime of the bell. Mr. Todd cleaned up his station. As he sharpened the razor for the next customer, he heard Mrs. Lovett running up the stairs.
"Mr. T! Mr. T! That man- Who was he?"
He didn't even look up or pause in his work. "What are you on about?"
"That man you just shaved. Did you get his name?"
"Lamonte, I believe."
"That's him," a small voice said.
Sweeney Todd finally looked up and saw Mrs. Lovett standing next to a girl. She was pale and thin, with dark circles under her eyes and long unkempt dark hair.
"What's she doing here?"
Mrs. Lovett put an arm around the girl. "This is Catharine. She saw that man going up the stairs and started bawling into her meat pie. You know me, couldn't have that. I tried to console her. She told me terrible things about that man. Made my skin crawl, and that's saying something. I thought maybe we could help her."
"Help her how?"
Mrs. Lovett gave him a knowing look.
Hello, my lovely readers! I'm coming back to the Sweeney Todd universe to purge some things. This project was actually advised to me for therapy purposes. So I can properly channel my feelings, specifically hatred to a certain someone, I'm going to give him over to our favorite serial killer for some fun! Don't take this too seriously, just me getting a lot off my chest. But if you do enjoy it, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the review section! I've missed these characters so much!