Time set: Just after "Bananas for Betty", even the idea came to me during the terrible hiatus of the last December.
Author says: Actually I wrote it in January, but in my own language. This is a translation.

And I still come back to you

Part one: Hot coffee

The study was in full activity. Crowds of assistants, hairdressers, make-up artists rushed everywhere trying to satisfy the wishes of this or that model, to say another to hurry up, to say another that no, vodka would come only with the end of the photo shoot, and that if she hadn't spent Thanksgiving eating all that turkey maybe she could wear the top assigned. And while they're rushing everywhere, the assistants, hairdressers, make-up artists considered when they finally would have a moment to rest, maybe drink, or just breathe. They hadn't the courage to considerate that until all the work would be over, that until the new Mode issue would arrive in the printing works (and the last one had risked of dying before coming to light) they absolutely can't even breathe.

The only one who managed to remain quiet was the photographer who was making the photo shoot. Cliff was peaceful in the middle of the studio with his camera trying to make smile the poor girl he was photographing, even the poor girl (a typical eastern beauty) seemed to not understand a word of what he was telling her.

"Coffee?"

Betty Suarez, the nice, strong, obstinate, particular assistant of Daniel Meade (Marc has been talking a lot with Cliff about her – of course, the nice was a Cliff's remarks) came up to him with a cup of hot coffee in the hands, and she was offering it to him.

"Oh, thank you. You're Betty, right? I recognized you by the hair. Marc has still the wig, and the poncho. Speaking of it, Guadalajara is a beautiful city."

Betty had visibly blushed "Has he still that stuff?" she mumbled "Yeah, it's me. Nice to meet you. Your photo shoots are always between the best published by Mode."

"Someone has ordered me to bring you this."

Even Amanda had got near him with another cup of coffee, but she was offering it with much less courtesy than Betty. If we have to tell the truth, she nearly spilt it on Cliff.

"But when I asked you to do this you answered that you had to finish your manicure!"

"Done".

"Thank you Mandy, I never refuse a coffee. It's a very long time we don't see.. Hadn't you and Marc to go out last night..?"

A moment. The coffee, who was in Amanda's hands, found itself on Cliff's shirt.

"First, I perfectly know that you came with him. Second, say hallo to him, and tell him I just wish the next work his boss will give him was to be a pincushion. And third" she started to bustle about Cliff's wet collar, lowering her voice, almost hissing. "don't you dare again calling me Mandy. Never." Her grip on his collar became to be dangerous "Understand?"

"Uh, I believe so." Despite the hot coffee on his chest, Cliff answered with the same friendly tone he used previously. Betty was almost sure that a smile appeared on his face.

Amanda left, as suddenly as she had appeared. Actually, without the coffee she had been able to run away and disappear before Betty (and the other fifty six people in the studio) could even just open the mouth.

"Oh my God! What I've done! It's all my fault.. Why I pick up these sweets... but I saw them on the floor, I didn't think they were hers.. and she went mad! … Why are you laughing?"

Cliff had started laughing. Amazing how someone can hold out a burn's pain so long.

"I don't think Amanda's outburst has been caused by the disappearance of her sweets. Instead, it may concern with my hint of her outing with Marc."

"He has left Mode, but I was persuaded they were still maintaining their friendship. Or mutual aid society. Or complicity in crime.. Seriously, I believe that the most of the things they did here could be prosecuted…"

"Well, they didn't." Cliff had returned serious, and seemed he started to feel the pain (His rosy face had become worryingly purple). "They didn't fight. No shouts, no tears, no broken doors, nowt. Simply, they don't talk anymore. Marc refuses to discuss, Amanda too, as you can see.." The purple was increasing: Betty didn't imagine how much deep it could become.

"Ah.. where they were supposed to go last night?" Betty found herself extremely curious.

"Oh, yesterday was the their firing day. I supposed they wanted to celebrate it going to see a musical play, or kind of."

"It was what?"

"Firing day. As I know, it's the anniversary of the day they make someone to be fired the first time. An attendant of the cafeteria, if I well remember."

"Oh. I guessed it was something of this sort… Uh, would you like I look for another shirt?"

"Uh, oh" He couldn't deny the evidence anymore. "Yes, thanks."

And he ran in the bathroom to take off that instrument of torture.