Chapter 21

Prep Time: Artemis and Butler Part 2

RECAP:

"Foaly, I am not a jeans person. I don't wear jeans."

"I know, but you have once you know. When you were in Berlin stealing the painting."

"And I hated every minute of it."

"Sorry Artemis, but there's nothing I can do. It's up to you what you wear."

"I understand." I assured him. "I'm sure I won't wear jeans, but I do thank you for the advice."

"Of course. That's what I'm here for. To cater to the whim of a mud man." he said as he terminated the link. I have to admit, I couldn't think of another thing to top it.

Artemis POV:

Two of the four down. Neither of those two had been helpful. So, that left my mother and/or Holly. I would definitely save Holly for last. I didn't want her asking or jumping to any conclusions. In other words, my mother was the lesser of two evils, or rather two embarrassments. I trudged out of my study, upstairs to the room my mother and father have shared since before I was born. I gently rapped on the door.

"Come in," my mother's voice called from inside. I entered the room that my father and mother had shared for as long as I could remember. Everything was exactly the same, despite the passage of time. The huge bet was still on its custom-built pedastool in the center of the room. The walls were the same deep crimson color and the floor was adornerd with the same vine-patterned carpet.

"Arty," my mother cooed. "What do you need, darling?" Darling. It was one of those ridiculous nicknames that she had begun calling me after my return from limbo and the spell trophy say that I didn't like it would be the under statement of the century. Of course, I don't protest because I don't want to hurt her anymore than I already have.

I carefully crossed the floor, fully aware of the rug beneath me. I stepped lightly through the vines remebering what my father used to tell me. Step on a vine, and count to nine. I really didn't have the time or patience to deal with bad luck tonight.

Mother smiled indulgently at me. She looked as though I had just given her the best present in the world. "Trying not to touch a vine?" A smile touched my face. She knew me so well, as a mother should. When I reached her, her arms were already out. I fell into them readily. She squeezed me tightly, and so I did the same. Even though I am an adult, I always feel like a small boy in her arms. I can't help but remember all of the times I had sought comfort in those arms and received none. It made every moment like this seem magical.

"Hello mother," I said, but then I felt her tense. "I meant, hello mom." Lately mother has been adamant about how she should be called. She feels that mother is too formal and needs to be changed. I agreed to try it.

"Oh, you, well at least you're almost there. Have a seat," she said patting the spot next to her on the bed.

"I hope I am not disturbing you, mother," I said sitting where she had indicated.

"Nonsense," My mother said waving the idea away. "You can never disturb me. I always have time for you."

I felt touched in my heart. There are some things that you know, but it's always nice to hear them and I have gotten closer recently, due to her knowledge of all of my activities. That still didn't make it any easier to let go of my pride and ask her for help.

"Thank you mother," I said unsure of how to start the conversation that I needed to. Then I realized, Fowls are never unsure.

"Mom, please," she gently reminded me.

"Mom," I said correcting myself. "I...I need your advice." Ugh, lately I have had problems with a slight stammer when I get nervous. It may be a symptom of turning my life over to the relatively good side. Though to be honest, I detest that evidence of unintelligence. "If you don't mind?"

"Of course I don't mind. Is it about Holly?" Mother asked. She knows all about the fairy side of my life. After she was cured, it was impossible to mezmerize or mind wipe her. Though to be honest, I was glad that someone in my family knew. Unfortunately, her knowledge had led to some very awkward questions about Holly.

"No," I said, my face coloring from the memory of that conversation and the way this one seemed to be going. "No, mom. We're just friends," I insisted.

Mother giggled and fluffed her blond hair like teenaged girls do all of the time for attention. "Of course you are. You know, that's what your father and I used to say." I filed that away for future reference. There would be plenty of time to think about it later. Besides, it may be one of those things that you were better off not knowing.

"Yes, but we are different and times have changed since then."

"Well, Arty that makes me feel old now," she pouted.

I cleared my throat and tried to think of something to say. "Oh no mom, you are not old at all."

"Well thank you son," she laughed until she finally managed to get herself under control. "Nevertheless, I don't think times have changed that much."

"Mother, can we please get on with the problem at hand?" I asked trying to get her off the subject of Holly Short.

"Whic is what? I can't think of anything else you'd need help with," she said thinking of my intellect. Mother was quite right. That used to be all I was concerned with, but I think of other things. Not that I've told her yet.

"You'd be surprised," I muttered.

"You're stalling, son," she said smiling slightly.

"Well, I plan on going to the Phenom tonight..." I began, but was immediately cut off.

"Ooooh, it's not that nice Minerva girl is it?" she asked absolutely beaming with pride. Then a sudden realization hit her. "Since when do you go out?"

"Since now, mother. And no, I'm just going to have fun with Juliet and a friend of hers."

"A lady friend of hers?" she raised her eyebrows and leaned forward. I know how she would love that. Now that she is sure that I like girls, she's going out of her way to get one into my heart.

"Yes actually," I said as my face colored slightly.

"Oooh, what are you going to wear tonight?"

"That's what I came to ask you, mother," I admitted, unable to skirt the truth any longer. "What do people wear to clubs?"

"Well Arty, that's a hard question to answer," she said. "Let me think for a moment." So, she sat there stroking her chin and thinking.

"Well..." I prompted after a few seconds. I am normally rather patient, but I don't have much time tonight.

"Most young men would wear street clothes like: skinny jeans, a cool tee or polo with a vest and Converse or sneaker."

"But, I am no ordinary young man."

"No, you aren't. You'd never wear that. So, what we need to do is find something that is both unique to you and completely chic." Chic, really? I can't recall ever being called that or ever wanting to be called that. I raised my eyebrows in a clear challenge. Mother was more than ready to take the challenge. Fowls never back down, and my mother had definitely become Fowl-like during her years in the family.

"What you doubt me?" mother challenged, her eyes flashing. "You may be a genius, but this is my area of expertise."

"Very well, the ball is in your court," I said indicating that she should do as she wishes.

"Come on," she said grabbing my arm. She towed me out of her room and into mine. She walked straight to my closet. she didn't look at me as she pulled almost every item of clothing out of the closet. To my embarassment, she went in my underwear drawer too. She pulled out a pair of deep blue, silk boxers. "Put these on," she grunted. I started to go into the bathroom, when I saw my mom's face break into a smile.

"Arty, you can change here. I used to change my diapers, remember? You don't have anything that I haven't seen before." I knew that my face was red from embarassment. I chose not to say anything at all. I went into the bathroom and changed into the boxers. Though I must say, I didn't see the point of changing my underwear too.

I walked into the room, and my mom was still smiling. "Mom," I said without hesitation this time. "Why did I have to change my boxers?"

"Well, most people find that they like to change from the inside out." she said. "When I used to go out with your father I would change everything." I could sense where this was going and I had to stop it.

"Mother-" I began but she pressed on.

"I mean it. Everything from bras to panties. How do you think you came along?" she asked. My stomach felt a bit nauseous. Well, perhaps more than a bit. For example there are some things that you know, but don't want to think about. I know what had to happen for my birth to occur, but I never think about it. Obviously, my mother's new policy about total honesty was not going to be conducive to my mental health and security.

I decided not to say anything else. I sat on the bed and watched her sort through the clothes, quickly and efficently. Soon there were two piles on my floor. One piles was for things 'never to wear t a club' and the other was for 'possibilities'.

"Hmmm, I think I have the perfect outfit for you," mother beamed. "Here put these on," she tossed me a bundle of clothes.

This time I made no qualms about staying in the room, because I didn't want to receive any other disturbing information. I pulled on the black, dress pants she had thrown me. They were straight and a bit tighter than I would have liked. Then, I pulled on the sky blue shirt. I promptly buttoned it up. On top of that I put on one of the black vests that had come from a suite. Then mother pulled out a box of shoes that I had hidden. "These are perfect," she said.

"Ugh," I involuntarily groaned, sounding like a teenager once again. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," my mom said as she pulled out some black socks. I pulled those on without complaint. But, then she pulled out the shoes. These were black and white, all-star converses. I really didn't want to wear them, but my mother is like all Fowls. She will not and cannot submit.

"Please Arty, I picked them out," my mother whined poking her lips out. As I said before my mother will do anything to get her way. She's not known for fighting fair. None of the Fowls are.

"Fine," I submitted, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "I'll wear them." I pulled the shoes on, and was a bit surprised. They were somewhat comfortable. They felt almost as good as my dress shoes or loafers. Not that I'd ever say that out loud.

"Thanks mother, mom," I corrected myself. Old habits die hard. I definitely know that for a fact. I'm still not able to break some habits.

"Oh, I'm not done yet," she said with a slightly fevered pitch in her eyes. I gulped nervously. Whatever was coming was not going to be good or pleasant.

To put it in modern terminology: uh-oh. "What else do you have to do?"

"Well, first I need to fix that shirt." she laughed.

"What's wrong with it?" I demanded looking down to see if I had missed a button. Of course, I hadn't. I'm always very meticulous with my clothes. There's nothing worse than attending a business meeting without having your pants zipped.

"There's nothing wrong, except for the way you look all buttoned up." She wrinkled her nose, and looked like I had just commited a crime.

"What?" I asked. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Here Arty, I'll fix you up," First she unbuttoned the first few buttons on my shirt, so that part of my new musculature showed.

"Hmmm, you know what? Ditch the vest and lose the shirt," she said and I did both before she could sink her claws in. She went back to the good pile of clothes and pulled out a white shirt that some people call 'wife-beaters'. "Put that on and then put on the blue shirt."

I did as she told me. "Is that better?" I asked my mother.

"No, put the vest back on and button the shirt back up like I had it." Once again I did as she told me. Mother came back up to me and unbuttoned the buttons to once again show off my new 'musculature'. She rolled up my sleeves to show off my arms and elbows.

"Two more things," she said giggling as I groaned in frustration. I'd never get out of here like this. "Relax, I'm almost done."

She pulled out two pairs of aviatior glasses. One pair was white and the other was black. "Which pair?"

"Neither?" I asked hopefully. Though, I knew that I wouldn't be getting my way. With women you never do.

"Black it is," she said handing them to me.

"Now for the hair," she said looking thoughtful. She mussed it slightly, so that it was out of its normal, ordered style. I looked in the mirror and was surprised by how different I looked. The style made me look several years older.

"Now you're ready," she smiled. To be honest, my mother never seems to stop smiling anymore. It's quite a pleasant change from the days I remember. The days when silence had equaled smiles and she couldn't even recognize me.

"Thank you mother," I said as I embraced her.

"Mom," she corrected as she patted my back.

"Thank you, mom."

"No problem dear. By the way which car will you drive?" I hadn't thought about it. We have a rather large assortment of vehicles. The majority of them are black. There are the two Bentley's, two Porsche 911 Turboes (one in red and the other in silver), a black dixie 350z, and two Ashton Martin Vanquishes. (And a partridge and a pear tree.) And all of these were modified to be fuel efficient of course.

"Hmm, perhaps the Porsche or the Dixie. The Vanquish would also be adequate."

Mother's face quirked at the word 'adequate'. Most people would describe it as 'mouth-watering' or 'drool-worthy'. I suppose you get used to it. "You should aske Butler since he will most likely drive. I know what you are thinking. Yes, I can drive, but I usually choose not to. Butler gets a certain calm from the fact that I do not. It is harder for him to guard me while I drive. He feels it could be very distracting. Besides, he likes to make sure the other passengers are safe as well. "Yes, he wil."

"Well, have fun," she said waving.

"I will," I smiled as I left. Now, I just had to find Butler. It didn't take much searching. He was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hmm, who knew?" I laughed. Butler was not in his usual suit either. He was wearing a pair of dark gray, tweed dress pands and a white pinstriped dress shirt. His shirt was unbottoned like mine, but his showed actual muscles.

"Yourself also," he said his mouth quirking somewhat. "Your mother did a good job."

"Yes, she did," I smiled. "You seem excited."

"It has been a very long time since I have went clubbing. Besides, you should prove to be fun to watch."

"Fun?" I asked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Trust me, you'll see when we get there," I chose not to press the issue. I was just glad it didn't lead back to Holly-like conversation.

I just shrugged. "Shall we go?" Butler asked.

"What car should we take?" I asked looking at the various choices that surrounded us.

"Hmmm, I'd suggest something sporty." Definitely not the Bentley then.

"The Vanquish?" I asked since I was still unsure of which he meant.

"Good choice," he nodded approvingly. "Which color?"

Hmm, I wasn't sure. Definitely not black. It seems too dark and somber for the occasion. "Red."

"Hmm," Butler mused.

"What?" I asked feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Nothing," he replied. He went to the hook by the door, but I was there first. I snagged the Vanquish keys and smirked at my old friend. I treated him to my best vampire smile.

"I'm driving."

A/n:

Woo-hoo! Another chapter , the next chapter will be the arrival at the club in Holly's POV. Hope you enjoy it. I hope to update this story soon. Keep reading and I'll keep writing. Oh and remember to review. Flames are welcome. They're what keep me warm and toasty at night. ;)

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Yours truly, madly, and deeply,

Einstinette