A/N: My apologies for this chapter taking so long. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-one: Drinks and Dinner
Riza used the towel in her hand to wipe the glass handed to her by Bea, pleased to be doing her fair share of work. Jessica was wiping down tables, and even Aunt Chris was helping by restocking the bar. There was an hour until the place opened, and they didn't have much time. Tamara, who Riza had only just met, was sitting on top of the bar. Her dress clung tightly to her curves; raven hair fell down her back, pooling on the wood beside her hips. She held several strands between her fingers, examining the ends.
"Apparently, Colonel Raven is engaged. Well, about to be. He even showed me the ring, God knows why. I mean, who looks for the approval of a mistress on the engagement ring for their girlfriend?" Tamara's comment was met with laughs and sounds of agreement from her sisters. "That's all he wanted to talk about! Last night was completely worthless."
"At least you got paid," Jessica consoled.
"We can't sell money," Chris reminded her. "We sell information. All he did was help pay this month's rent."
"Well, Major General Gardner is on my schedule every day for the next week." Bea shrugged her shoulders. "He's always good for leaks. Last time, he told me that everything was stabilizing in Ishval."
"That's not true," Riza spoke up. She shifted when she felt everyone's eyes on her. "At least, that's not what I've heard."
"What have you heard? And from whom?" Chris asked, her tone conveying a layer of seriousness.
"When Roy and I came to visit last Christmas, we were booked in the same car as Fuhrer and Mrs. Bradley. The Fuhrer was saying that he just visited and that there was tension there. He told us not to worry about it, but I didn't believe him." Riza explained. "People in the east are afraid. Roy and I visited Risembool not too long ago, and there were whispers. It makes me nervous."
Chris' large hand landed on Riza's head, ruffling her short hair. "Maybe you can teach my nephew to shut up and listen for once."
She was joking, but Riza knew that wasn't all. Underneath her words lay the message Keep listening.
Jessica grinned. "We should start sending little Ree here out on recon."
"She already does by keeping us updated on our little brother!" Bea chimed in.
Riza let out a small, nervous laugh. She couldn't help but wonder if the women listened to her as closely as they did their clients. Lord knows what might have slipped out unintentionally if they were.
Tamara pursed her lips. "In a few years, she'll be drop-dead gorgeous. We're going to lose our jobs."
"That's enough." Chris shot a look at her girls, who hadn't noticed that Riza had gone red. "The point is, Bea, work on getting the specifics from Gardner. It's possible that misinformation is being spread to the public. He can drink free all night if you need him to."
"Yes, Mama." Bea spun on her stool and took stock of the empty establishment. "I call that table," she declared, indicating an intimate booth tucked away in one of the corners. "Might say more if he thinks no-one'll hear."
"It's yours." Chris pulled the cork from a bottle of tart, red wine. "You know the rules, girls. Stay sober, stay sharp, stay in character."
"Ma'am."
"Go freshen up. It's almost showtime."
Roy had been fighting his hair for the last half-hour. No matter what he did, it never stayed out of his face. Even Jessica's 'Extra-Strength Hold' product wasn't enough to tame it; he made a mental note to buy her a new jar before she noticed that it had gone missing. He wiped his hands off on a towel, huffing in defeat. What's done was done, he decided. In a last-ditch effort, he tried combing his hair back one last time.
His face scrunched when he heard audible crunching, and he hesitantly lifted a hand to the top of his head. "Son of a bitch…" Roy looked at his reflection frustratedly, narrowing his eyes. Well, the product worked, at least. He'd probably be in his grave before it decided to release his locks.
"You ready?" Riza's voice called down the hallway.
"Innaminute!" Roy hollered. He glared at himself in the mirror. "You look like a fucking idiot, Mustang." He was wearing one of the new shirts his sisters bought for him, which was uncomfortably stiff. His pants were a little long, because, despite telling them that they didn't fit, they had insisted that he would grow into them. Maybe he would, but a few days wasn't long enough for that. Roy silently cursed each one of his sisters individually as he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.
He thanked whatever merciful gods which might be out there that Riza didn't notice, or at least didn't say anything about, his hair. Unfortunately, when it came to her grandfather, he wasn't so lucky.
"Did you make yourself a helmet, there, my boy?" Grumman cackled as he patted Roy's stiff hairdo. "I've seen old women with less product than that, and they use it to keep their hair from falling out!"
"I don't think that's how it works, grandfather…" Riza chided as Roy ducked away from his hand.
"Alright, alright." Grumman held up his hands, palms-out. "Guess my comedy's getting worse with age."
"Can we just go to dinner now?" Roy huffed, his fingers trying to break apart black strands.
"Of course." Grumman picked up his coat and hat from the rack. He glanced at the brimmed, banded cap before plopping it down onto Roy's head. "Get ready for the best Xingese food that you'll ever eat. They're going to have to roll us out the door!"