The Manager
By icecreamlova
Part Two

- : -

At nine O'clock Tris received a frantic call from Sandry, whose imported fabrics from eastern Europe had been sent on the wrong supply route, and, consequently, wouldn't arrive for another week - after the fashion show she was launching to promote her new brand.

At ten O'clock Daja's car swerved out of control, and Tris received a frantic message from the hospital about how the woman had diagnosed herself perfectly healthy, and was attempting to leave to look after her race car. (Because, Daja had once explained, she loved how the tools sang beneath her fingers and wouldn't let anyone touch her darlings.)

At five-to-eleven, Tris wondered if her day could get any worse.

Then she decided not to tempt Lakik the Trickster, as Briar would say.

At eleven O'clock, Briar Moss decided to drop in, the month-and-a-half-old flowering tattoos on his hands hidden by the gloves Sandry had made for him. He was fashionably dressed for once (because he had agreed, after Tris's, ahem, suggestions, to help advertise Sandry's line), and had, apparently, spent the time it took to dress very productively: thinking about whose house to burgle next.

(And which treasures to flaunt, after the act, because the media loved this, and Briar always returned what he took... eventually...)

Tris had to remind Briar that, ever since she had become his manager, he wasn't actually supposed to burgle anyone. He was supposed to get caught, on purpose, and then mysteriously escape from the guards via the help of a stunt double.

As she showed Briar to the door, Tris wondered if she had ever felt this terrible while researching for Lightsbridge University; and decided that, if she had, she'd probably forgotten it in the interests of self-preservation.

Oh, why hadn't she promised herself only to manage those on the straight and narrow, like Daja?

- : -

"I can't believe I'm sitting in the middle of-"

"Shhh!" Sandry snapped, removing a bobby pin from her mouth and nearly stabbing him in the eye. Briar had always pictured her as quick, but she was practically a blur, backstage at her fashion show, as she fixed the ruff of one outfit, and tightened the laces on another.

"Oh, come on," Daja laughed, nudging him in the shoulder. "I can't believe you're protesting being backstage with half-naked models."

"Like you don't love it too," Briar returned.

Daja grinned. "I didn't say I did." She exchanged a smile with Tris... or rather, Daja grinned and Tris inspected the growing crowds.

Daja didn't quite understand, though. It wasn't that Briar didn't like meeting women (he did); but he usually preferred it when they were paying attention to him.

No; that sounded arrogant even in his head. More that... he didn't like being a human hat rack, because that exactly what Sandrilene fa Toren was doing. Briar was absolutely hung with spare bits and bobs.

"Suck it up," Tris said, unsympathetically, her hair coiled in tight braids for the occasion.

"Why couldn't my stunt double have been here for advertising instead of me?" Briar grumbled.

"Everyone will see it isn't you," Daja supplied. "And as much of a con artist as you are, I don't think you'd like your fan base collapsing. More importantly, I don't think Tris would like it."

Sandry reached over by them and tugged at a tie on Briar's arm. Briar glanced at Tris, who looked like she could make earthquakes begin with sheer willpower, and wisely helped her.

"Thanks," Sandry muttered, patting his hand distractedly.

- : -

"Calm down," Briar muttered.

Sandry was shivering with excitement, beaming as she watched her creations parade down the catwalk. Daja and Tris had been forced to remind her of this already (before Daja was mobbed by her fans, and Tris begged off with a headache); now it was his turn.

"I'm just happy," Sandry shrugged, watching her fashion show progressing.

She certainly looked happy. Briar had met plenty of beautiful women before, and Sandry was more "pretty" than "beautiful", but her smile was warm and wide, and somehow more attractive than any of the women on the catwalk. And when she wasn't busy, she was nice; Briar couldn't bring himself to regret that Tris had introduced them.

A sudden presence sprawled beside Briar.

"So what did I miss?" Daja asked.

Sudden realizations, Briar thought. He said, "Nothing."

- : -

She hadn't been able to stay there a single minute longer.

It wasn't the flashing lights, which had made her see dots when she stumbled away from Sandry and Daja; it wasn't the noise level itself, which Tris was somewhat used to; it wasn't even the inane chatter about who was wearing what, though Tris couldn't stand that either.

Tris smiled grimly as she remembered Briar's words from earlier that day, when they'd been behind the curtains of Sandry's show; what had struck her suddenly was the disbelief that she was passing her time at a fashion show.

"I can't believe it," she muttered to her absent friend. Client. Whoever he, and Sandry and Daja, were to her, which was something in between.

For a moment, she wondered what life would have been like if she had decided to follow her research. If the stark knowledge that lay just out of her grasp hadn't scared her into taking a business career instead. She would probably still have met Briar (while he was burgling her house); Daja, who had been a driver on the verge of fame? Sandry, who had bourn arrogant disapproval from her relatives to follow her chosen career path?

Maybe not. And Tris would have regretted never knowing them.

But it didn't make her feel any better when she stood in the crowd and realized that perhaps a handful of them shared a common interest with her.

- : -

Well?