Chapter Nine - A Little Less Conversation

"Thank you, Mr Wright, that's a very interesting demonstration…well, gentlemen, I think we can all agree that this is a technology we'd be keen to look at further...as long as the deal's right. Mr Hughes, would you like to present your financial proposal?"

Stingy stepped forward and ran his hands through his hair.

"Stop," said Trixie sternly. "Don't play with your hair. It makes you look nervous."

Stingy nodded.

"Okay. I'll just - " he put his hands in his pockets.

"No," said Trixie in despair. "That's even worse, you look like you've got something to hide…what you need is a prop, something you can do with your hands without it looking like a nervous twitch. Look, can't you have some sort of pointer or something for your charts?"

"I tried it. It looks ridiculous. They'll see my hands shaking," said Stingy wearily. He sat down on the edge of the couch and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, God, Trixie, I can't do this, I'm going to screw it all up completely…what am I doing? I'm twenty years old, the most responsibility I've ever had is balancing the till at the end of a shift in a bar. And now I'm trying to snow a bunch of suits at a major telecoms company, who've all been in business for longer than I've been alive…"

"But you've got the edge over all of them, because you're brilliant," said Trixie firmly.

"Yeah? Well, so what, Trix, because they're all brilliant, too. I did a bit of cyber stalking over the weekend. They all graduated from Ivy League universities. Magna cum laude, every single one of them."

"So? Ivy League is the past. You're going to graduate magna cum laude from MIT."

"Not at this rate I'm not. I haven't even touched my summer assignment yet, I'm so behind it's almost funny…" He sighed. "Oh, Trix, it's not just important for me, it's important for Pixel as well, he's relying on me to make this happen… you know what he's like, he's just not on the same planet as the rest of us. I don't think he's got the faintest idea how much money this could make us. He's just really pleased he's getting a chance to show it to some people who'll actually know what he's talking about. But this could make him for life. He'll be the Bill Gates of the mobile phone world. And if I don't get the presentation right - if I can't get the figures to add up - if I under-call it or over-call it and they walk away, if they put something in the contract and I miss it and we get screwed - "

He felt Trixie's arm go around his shoulders.

"Stop it," she said softly down his ear. "You're brilliant, you're utterly brilliant, you both are. Whoever's waiting to meet you in that office next month, you'll know more than all the rest of them put together. You and Pixel together are going to blow them away. They're going to offer you a job in their organisation before you've even got to the end of your pitch, I guarantee it."

"You think?"

"Yeah. I hear they're looking for someone to hold the towels in the executive bathroom on the top floor. You'd be perfect." He laughed. "But you're going to turn it down, because you and Pixel promised you'd do six thousand launches and this is only number seven. And because you're better than all of them put together, and you're going to show them that and they're going to be scared shitless and cave in and give you whatever you want because this is what you do best."

"You'll be telling me I'm a tiger in a minute."

"Will that help?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should try it."

"You're a tiger."

"Stripy? Endangered? Easily spooked? Makes a good rug to wipe your feet on?"

"Fierce. Powerful. Frightening, but extremely beautiful."

"That's the nicest you've ever been to me in my life," said Stingy, smiling at her.

"I wouldn't get used to it, I'm sure it'll wear off soon. Seriously, though, Mr Millionaire. Making money is what you do best. You'll come out on top, I guarantee it."

"Not if I can't get this pitch right," he sighed, wandering over to the computer and scrolling restlessly back and forth through his slides.

"We need a break," said Trixie, rolling her eyes. "Let's go and visit Stephanie and Emma."

"Okay," said Stingy with alacrity.

"You're entirely too fond of that baby, you know," said Trixie disapprovingly.

He shrugged. "Define too fond of."

"It's unnatural for a man of your age to be that keen on a baby. You're at college, you're supposed to be obsessed with beer and casual sex."

"Oh, how dare you, that is such a stereotype! Why wouldn't I be fond of her? She's sweet. She smiles whenever she sees me."

"She smiles whenever she sees anyone. That's what babies do."

"Don't destroy my illusions."

"If you're going to fall in love with her, Stingy, you need to know what you're letting yourself in for."

"Maybe that's exactly why I love her."

"Because she's a shameless flirt who'll smile for anybody?"

"Because she gets everyone to smile back at her…because she's sweet and adorable even when she's being completely unreasonable…because she knows she's got me wrapped around her little finger…and because she's completely happy with herself, and can't imagine anyone ever not loving her on sight."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"This is all sounding alarmingly well-thought-through, Stingy. Are you sure we're still talking about Emma here?"

He laughed.

"No, I admit it, we're not. You finally caught me out, Trix. I have a dark secret. I'm secretly in love with you, I have been for years, and there'll never be anyone else until the day I die."

She rolled her eyes.

"Now there's a scary thought." She took his arm companionably. "Let's go."

--

"Stephanie, dear?" Bessie popped her head around the back door.

Stephanie lifted her head from the pillow, and sighed. Emma was deeply asleep on the bed in a centre of a nest of pillows, one hand pressed against her mouth, the other holding tightly onto her mother's hair. Stephanie was curled contentedly around her, floating between waking and sleeping, thinking of nothing, simply savouring the peace. As soon as she heard her Aunt's voice, that anxious tone between worry and displeasure, she felt her entire body go tense and rigid, preparing for battle.

Relax, she told herself. Relax, let go, let it pass.

"It's your great-aunt," she whispered in Emma's ear, gently untangling the long pink strands from her daughter's tiny fist. "Now mummy has to go downstairs and be nice, okay? You stay here and sleep, and send me good thoughts so I can feel like a half-way decent mother and not some hopeless failure who doesn't have the first idea what she's doing. And if you think I'm going to say something awful, you go ahead and scream the place down, so I have to come and get you and we can have five minutes alone together for me to calm down." She padded downstairs in her bare feet to greet her Aunt.

"Hello," she said, smiling. "It's lovely to see you. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you dear…" she looked at Stephanie's bare feet and raised her eyebrows. "Where's Emma?"

"She's asleep upstairs."

"In her cot?"

"No, she's in our bed."

"Really?" A disapproving pause. "Will she ever sleep in her own room, do you think, Stephanie?"

"She does sleep in her own room sometimes, Aunt Bessie. She just sometimes likes to be with us too."

"Well, it's really not good for your relationship to have the baby in the bed with you, you know."

"Our relationship is fine, Aunt Bessie." Stop it. Stop being so prickly and defensive. Just be nice to her, she's trying to help…

"Well, if you say so…could I just go and have a little peek?"

"No, Aunt Bessie, really, I wouldn't - " but Bessie was already on her way up the stairs.

Oh, Lord, thought Stephanie despairingly. She had intended to pick up the trail of clothes they had left last night between the top of the stairs and the bedroom, beginning with his t-shirt and ending with her knickers, but she simply hadn't had the time.

A minute later, Bessie re-appeared, looking flustered.

"I thought maybe it might wake her up if I went to see her," she said, not quite looking Stephanie in the eye. "So…how have you been? What have you been doing?"

"Well, all the classes are full already, which is great news. It's so nice of you to look after Emma, Aunt Bessie, it really helps."

"It's a pleasure to have her...she's my little darling." For a moment the two women smiled at each other across the kitchen table, and Stephanie felt the warmth of her Aunt's approval. "But are you absolutely sure you're not working too hard? You look so tired, dear…you're thinner than you used to be…"

"I've got a seven month old baby, Aunt Bessie, I think being tired kind of goes with the territory." Did that sound too defensive? "And it's only six hours a week at the moment…I'm doing fine."

"Well, you need to be careful. Is she sleeping through the night yet?"

"Yes. Well. Usually. Sometimes she gets lonely, but we just tuck her up in between us and she goes straight back to sleep again."

"Wouldn't it be better to let her cry it out? I'm sure she would have slept through much sooner if you'd just been a bit tougher with her when she was smaller…oh, by the way, I was out shopping this morning, and I found this. Now, I know what you said, Stephanie, but it's just so adorable, I couldn't resist…" she held out a carrier bag.

Stephanie looked inside, and sighed.

"Don't you like it?"

"Aunt Bessie, please don't do this…I don't want to fight with you again…"

"I'm sure I don't want to fight either, Stephanie. It's just a little present. I think she'll look adorable in it. And it's getting sunny, she's going to need a hat to keep her skin safe…"

"This isn't a sun-hat."

"If you don't like it, Stephanie, I can always take it back."

More than anything, Stephanie wanted not to be having this conversation.

"I'm not going to cover her ears up, Aunt Bessie," she said flatly.

Bessie looked at her across the table.

"Well, I can assure you that wasn't why I chose it, Stephanie, but since you bring it up…why would you want to advertise to the world that she's different?"

"Because she is different, and I'm very proud of that! She's our child, and she looks like her father, and I am not embarrassed by that and neither is he, and I will not have her brought up trying to disguise who she is!"

"It's just a hat, Stephanie. He's never made an issue of it."

"That's different."

"I don't see how."

Upstairs, Emma woke up and began to cry.

"I'll get her," said Bessie immediately. "You sit there, Stephanie, and have a rest for a few minutes."

Stephanie closed her eyes, trying hard not to let the tears spill down her cheeks.

"Pinkie? The door was open, can we come in? Oh, honey, what's the matter?" Trixie put her arms around Stephanie protectively. "I can hear Emma, do you want me to go and get her?"

"No, it's all right, Aunt Bessie's with her."

"Aha. It's all right, Stingy, it's nothing to worry about. It's just the chief of the Self-Esteem Police, completing her life's work of making the world a more miserable place. Honestly, Pinkie, why don't you just tell her where to get off?"

"I - I just can't."

"Well, if you say so. But I think you're just far too nice. Come on. We're going to go out and have some fun. All four of us, five of us with Pixel. Pack Emma up in her best outfit, because we're going to Metropolis to choose Stingy a fabulous new suit for his meeting with Kahuna Telecom next week. Oh, hello, Mrs Meanswell, how are you? Come here, baby girl, give Stingy one of those disgusting wet kisses of yours." Trixie expertly detached Emma from Bessie's arms and passed her on to Stingy, who held her up in front of him and made a terrible face at her to make her smile, put his face next to hers so she could plant her toothless, wide-open mouth on his cheek and give it a juicy, loving suck, and then laid her over his shoulder so she could look out of the window.

"Well, I can see you're busy…I'll be going, Stephanie," said Bessie, gathering her coat and handbag. She pointedly left the carrier bag containing the sweet little knitted bonnet on the table. Stephanie kissed her dutifully, closed the door behind her and tried to smile at her two friends, who were watching her with concern.

"She's going to drive you insane if you don't put some distance between you, Pinkie," said Trixie. "Is that another hat?"

"Yes."

Stingy shook his head in disbelief.

"Why do you put up with her, Stephanie?" he asked abruptly. "You've got all the power here. It's time you started using it. You've got the baby, and whatever she thinks about Sportacus, she's absolutely besotted with Emma. You've got a full, busy life; she's basically got nothing to do since she gave up working for your Uncle. Why do you let her carry on coming round here and upsetting you like this?"

"Because she and my uncle are the only family I've got in the world," said Stephanie simply. "And if it came to it, my uncle wouldn't choose me over her."

It was such a simple and terrible truth that they were both silenced for a long, still moment.

"I'm really sorry," said Stephanie at last, sighing. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Stingy gave her an awkward hug, holding Emma against him with one hand.

"No, you didn't embarrass me, of course you didn't…it's just I'd never really thought about it like that…oh, Stephanie, I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot…"

"Don't be. I'm fine now. Come on. Let's go and get Pixel and buy you both a suit. That sounds like much more fun than sitting around my kitchen discussing my Aunt Bessie's obsession with Emma's ears."

"We'll never get Pixel in a suit," said Stingy warningly. "He only wore one to your wedding because I took away his modem and wouldn't give it back until he put one on."

"Oh, don't worry," said Trixie. "I know exactly what Pixel needs to wear. Let's go."

--

"Wow, all of you guys? Well…welcome to Scruffy Bastards, I guess. I'm Paul." The owner of Metropolis's most painfully expensive menswear store held the door open in bemusement as Stingy, Trixie, Pixel, Stephanie and Emma came into the shop, Emma happily cocooned in a sling and holding onto a long strand of Stephanie's hair. "So, what are you in the mood for?"

"I'm Trixie," said Trixie, smiling, "and he needs a suit."

"He has a name," said Stingy coldly.

"But absolutely no clue about clothes."

"Hmmm," said Paul diplomatically. "What's the occasion?"

"A business meeting on Wall Street," began Stingy.

"It's all right, Stingy. I'll handle this." She smiled sweetly at Paul. "Stingy needs to look like he came out of Hell's Kitchen and clawed his way up from absolutely nothing to the very top of the tree by nothing other than guts, brilliance and possibly the odd body in the river. And Pixel here needs to look like a mad electronics genius, one of those Silicon Valley borderline autistic types who are worth squillions of dollars and all they want to spend it on is a copy of the latest Grand Theft Auto six months before it goes on general release."

"Are you a mad electronics genius?" asked Paul mildly.

"Who? Me?" said Pixel vaguely over the top of his BlackBerry. "Wow. I don't think so. I just like to make things for Stingy to sell."

"He's a genius," confirmed Trixie. "They both are, in fact. Stingy is a financial wizard, and Pixel is one of those special ones, who can see how the universe works but can't understand how to start a conversation at a bus stop. But unfortunately he has this…delusion…that he's really a surfer, which is why he's wearing those hideous shorts."

"Geek chic and Gangster cool." Paul looked at Trixie and smiled. "Well, that could work…who are they meeting?"

"Kahuna Telecom," said Trixie, with proprietary pride.

"I think we can manage something," he murmured, and disappeared into the back of the shop.

Stephanie took Emma out of her sling, and sat down in a huge leather chair so Emma could stand on her knee and bounce fiercely up and down. A very good-looking boy of about their age with blonde hair and huge green eyes, who had been watching her curiously, left the racks of jeans we was leafing through and smiled shyly at her and Emma.

"She's cute," he said, admiring Emma as she bounced and screeched joyfully.

"Thank you," said Stephanie, smiling.

"No, no no no no no no no," said Paul loudly by the counter. "You are not putting that shirt with that suit, it's just wrong…look, Trixie, it's going to be totally bland, you need something with a bit more colour…oh, okay, now I see where you're going. Damn, girl, you're really not bad for an amateur, are you?"

"Well, she certainly knows what she wants," the boy said with a smile.

"My daughter? Or my best friend?"

"I meant the fashion maven over by the counter, but…" he looked at Emma, who was doing her best to throw herself backwards off Stephanie's knee, and shrieking with delight. "I guess that could be either of them. Are you shopping for their wedding or something?"

"Who? Stingy and Trixie? Oh, they're not a couple."

He looked at her quizzically. "And yet she still gets to pick his clothes?"

"Yes, I know, it seems a bit odd…but Stingy and Pixel have this big meeting coming up, and Stingy's like a cat on hot bricks about it, and Trixie's convinced the right suit is the answer to all his problems. And Pixel…well…" They both looked doubtfully at the loose knee-length shorts printed with pink and blue hibiscus, and the t-shirt covered with coffee-stains and adorned with the barely legible slogan, Jesus loves you…but I'm His favourite. "Pixel's just not really that interested in clothes."

He hesitated a moment longer, then sat down on the chair beside her.

"Look, I absolutely promise this isn't a pick-up line, I can see you're married, but - I just wondered where you're from? Because I think we've maybe…got a mutual friend."

"Well, I was at the Conservatoire here for a year before I had Emma," she said. "Are you a dancer too? Or is your friend?"

"Lord, no. I was going to study history, but it didn't work out…and the guy I'm thinking of…" He smiled. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't dance. I know him through my - through my work."

"What do you do?" She thought it was an innocent enough question, but to her total surprise he blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Me? Oh. Well, I'm - I'm kind of in the entertainment industry."

"That sounds interesting." She waited to see if he would say anything else, but although the blush subsided, he seemed reluctant to explain any further.

"Anyway," he said hastily. "My friend, I think he has a photo of you at your wedding? I remember noticing your hair - "

It was her turn to blush a little. "Yes, almost everyone I meet remembers my hair. Well, most of Lazytown came to our wedding in the end, I think, so there are a lot of people that could be. What's your friend's name?"

Over by the counter, the argument continued to rage.

"It's perfect."

"Trixie, it's bright purple."

"And what is your point?"

"So I don't want to look gay, is my point! Oh, God, sorry, what a stupid thing to say, I didn't mean - "

"That's all right," said Paul peacefully. "I wouldn't want to look straight, either."

"Oh. So you agree that it's too flamboyant for me?"

"Not at all. Actually I think it will look amazing. It'll pick up the colour of the lining, and you won't be wearing a tie so you need something to stop it looking completely dull -"

"What? What do you mean? No tie? Are you both completely insane? Or is this some sort of enormous practical joke?"

"Sorry, but I think I'd better go and intervene before those two kill each other," said Stephanie. "It was nice talking to you."

"It was nice talking to you too," replied the boy thoughtfully, and left the shop.

"Just try it on," said Trixie sternly."She's right," said Paul, shrugging.

"Pixel, back me up," said Stingy, looking cornered. "Purple handkerchief in top pocket is a Bad Thing."

"It's just clothes," said Pixel uninterestedly. "I think you should try it on. Why not?"

"Et tu, Pixel," said Stingy crossly, disappearing into the changing-room. Emma wailed disapprovingly, so Pixel gave her a bunch of keys to play with, which she was instantly engrossed by, turning them over and over in her soft hands.

"Right," said Trixie cheerfully. "Your turn now, Pixel my boy." She threw him a pair of faded and heavily distressed jeans, a plain white long-sleeved t-shirt, a black short-sleeved t-shirt with a print of a naked woman holding a skull with a rose between its teeth, and a pair of sneakers. "Off you go." Pixel obediently followed Stingy into the changing rooms.

"And who was that I saw you talking to?" asked Trixie, smiling at Stephanie.

"I don't know…just somebody who liked Emma."

"Somebody who liked Emma, hey? And do you come across a lot of cute boys who like Emma, Pinkie?"

"I couldn't possibly be less interested," said Stephanie, laughing.

"Glad to hear it," said Trixie.

"He's gay," said Paul, twinkling.

"Is he? That's a shame. How do you know?"

"We have a secret signal," said Paul gravely. "If I manage to have sex with them at the end of the night, it's generally considered a clue."

"Yeah, that would be a bit of a give-away…oh. Oh my good God. Stingy, that is just unbelievable."

"I feel like a funeral director," he admitted, standing in the door of the changing-room and running his fingers through his hair distractedly.

"You don't look like one. That purple lining is just perfect…and the shirt…oh, Stingy, I swear, that is just incredible…really. You should only ever wear black from now on. Pinkie, don't you take Emma anywhere near him. That suit has to be dribble-free."

"Are you sure I don't look as if my closest relatives have just died?" asked Stingy, squinting suspiciously in the mirror and smoothing his hair down.

"No, don't smooth it down, that looks great, all rumpled and dangerous…well, you maybe look like you might have buried some of them in the East River."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Trust me," said Paul firmly. He smiled at Stingy. "I used to work on Vogue, I'm gay and I own this shop. That makes me the man with just about the best taste in Metropolis. You look…terrifying. In a completely attractive and very professional way."

Stingy looked at Stephanie pleadingly."Stephanie, be the voice of reason here. Be honest and tell me what you think."

Stephanie looked him up and down. The suit hung in sharp, immaculate lines from his lean frame, making him look five years older and at least a hundred years more streetwise. The heavy white linen shirt, open at the neck, would have been bland without the much-discussed violet handkerchief in the top pocket of the jacket, which picked up the outrageous silk lining of the jacket that was just visible when he moved. The only thing that didn't fit was Stingy's harassed, worried expression.

Stephanie passed Emma over to Trixie, stepped forward, put her hands on either side of his face and gave him a warm, sisterly kiss.

"You'll have them eating out of your hand before you've even switched on the projector," she told him proudly, and saw him relax in relief.

"Why did it take her opinion to convince you?" asked Trixie crossly.

"Because I know Stephanie wouldn't let me make a fool of myself just to avoid admitting she'd got it wrong." Stingy looked at himself in the mirror, and smiled a little. "Trix, you know…"

She smiled back at him."Yeah. I know. It's all right. You're welcome. You can buy me a very expensive frock and then take me out for dinner in New York when you've done the deal."

"Well," said Paul briskly. "That's one of you boys sorted out and ready for action. Now, let's have a look at your friend."