Chapter 45 - Plates
Lupe sighed in a mixture of frustration and boredom while flipping through the catalog of potential wedding dresses that the seamstress two blocks over from her shop had given her. She recognized the fashion drawings as Simplicity or Butterick or McCalls patterns from when she'd accompany her mother to the department store as a young girl. Half of these are from before the war, she thought sullenly. Look how long and plain they are. I wonder what they are wearing on the surface? It's 1952 and I'm expected to get married wearing a dress from over a decade ago.
None of this was what Lupe had wanted when she thought about getting married, although truth be told she didn't think too much about it. But she always assumed it would be in a church. A grand church. And her family would be there. And her friends. And that she would have friends. Human friends.
She lifted her gaze from the catalog and watched Fawn, Mimi's recommended employee, carefully write prices on the backs of boxes of 'fun' little notecards. Fawn was nice, with wavy black hair and pearly white teeth, and dark blue eyes, but aside from being her employee, they had very little in common. It wasn't a strike against her, but they just didn't click beyond a professional level. Who shall I have there, hm? My business partner? My employee? She sighed again.
The engagement ring Richard had presented her with weighed heavily on her finger, and not just metaphorically. It was the size of a pea and it made her nervous to wear it. She'd be much more comfortable with it in a safe deposit box but, well, Richard damned near grinned himself to death every time he saw it. She hoped it was glass. She'd feel better if it was, but knowing Richard it wasn't.
Even getting married wasn't her wish. She did love Richard, but she was doing it to make him happy. It didn't really matter to her. What was the point anyway? There was no church no here, no God, no family, no real friends, no future, no children. Just stuck in 19…Lupe traced the outline of the ration-compliant dress on the page. 1940-something.
I wish I could swim away too.
"Anything you like in there?" Fawn asked, clearly just trying to make conversation. She didn't turn her head though and kept her attention on pricing the cards.
"Not really. They're all so formal and when they aren't formal they are dull. What do you suppose…" Lupe trailed off. She was going to ask Fawn what they were wearing on the surface, but that was dangerously close to verboten speech. "… what would be fun and new? We aren't having a large wedding but he's also not shipping out tomorrow." This time at least.
"You don't want a formal wedding? Hot dog, I sure would. A dress with a long train and veil and a tiara, just like a princess, that's what I'd like," Fawn replied.
Clearly Fawn wasn't grasping her point. But then again she hadn't spelled it out for her either. Helena always knew what I meant. "Since it is Richard's second wedding it would be in poor taste to have a large wedding." Lupe chose this tact as it was less embarrassing than admitting she had few to none friends left.
"Ah nuts to that," Fawn dismissed but didn't turn around. "Get the whole package to match that shiny rock you got there on your hand."
Lupe snorted a laugh despite herself. "Where should we honeymoon do you reckon? I hear the docking bays are lovely this time of year."
"A nice hotel I suppose," Fawn answered, evidently still not getting caught up in Lupe's drift. "A good thing your mister's got the cash otherwise you'd have to spend your first night as man and wife in a real flophouse and get fleas for your wedding presents."
Lupe involuntarily scratched her arm. I suppose it could be a lot worse. As she scratched her arm she checked her watch. "Ralph said I could come by any time after two to check the plates before they get printed. I'll be back before five." Her latest project was an expensive adaptation of the working girl's handbook Mimi had made. It was heavily abridged and focused more on illustrations than text and actual useful information and was thus designed to be more provocative than educational. Of course, should one wish to acquire printed pornography in Rapture it was an easy thing, but Lupe's clientele were not comfortable waltzing into a dirty book store. But, if a dirty book was wearing a veil of 'informative' it was perfectly acceptable.
Being a pornographer was harder than Lupe presumed it would be. As she labored over the illustrations any fun was immediately stamped out. To make them more relatable to her audience Lupe put the couples in familiar settings and quickly regretted that creative direction as it made every illustration twice as difficult as it needed to be. It was no longer just having a stiff cock in the lady's mouth, no, Lupe had to draw the interior of the bathysphere as well. And her pride in her creation made her accurately render the brass fitting and the shading on the seats and glint on the windows…it was a good thing that Richard had introduced her to his hot chocolate blood because Lupe was so bored of sex after doing the illustrations she was daydreaming about checking into a nice, quiet convent in the Swiss Alps.
Ralph, her printer, was located adjacent to Little Eden in the Mason's Quarter so she didn't have to take the train or metro, but she still had to pass through a dingy and poorly lit stairwell on the way there. Whoever owned the space couldn't control or didn't want to control the constant leaking, which resulted in a few inches of standing, stinking water more often than not.
Lupe took her shoes off and daintily held them in her hand while traversing the water. Lazy bastards, she thought with irritation as she squelched through the icy water. There ought to be a law. But of course there wasn't. Once at the top of the stairs Lupe sat on the step and dried her feet on with a small towel she routinely carried in her purse and dried her feet off before replacing her shoes. It was prudent to carry a little towel in Rapture.
"Miss Loopy, Miss Loopy," exclaimed the excitable little girl when Lupe finally emerged into the other side of the Mason's Quarter. "I got more pies!"
Lupe feigned a happy smile. "Oh good, Carrie, that's great! How many do you have today?"
The eight-year-old girl with the grime-smeared face and dirty brown hair eagerly held out a battered wooden crate. "Eight left!"
Lupe pulled out her wallet. "I'll take…" she quickly estimated how many of the small mystery meat-filled pies she could fit into her purse. "Four." She handed over the requisite cash.
Carrie gave her four pies. "Are you gonna eat them for your supper Miss Loopy?"
"I certainly will," she lied and wrapped them in the damp towel. It didn't matter if the pies got wet, they were going straight into the trash when Lupe got back home. She had one once, several weeks ago, and had been so ill that Fawn had to run the shop for the rest of the day as Lupe was unable to leave the bathroom. But Carrie obviously wasn't selling her poisoned pies as a hobby. Rumor had it that both her parents were hopeless drunks, and Carrie was already having to pull her own weight, plus a little extra.
"Will you give one to your fiancé?" Carried asked. She was vaguely aware that Lupe and Richard were (in)famous but as to the reasons why she, in her childlike innocence, didn't really understand.
Lupe nodded and tucked the parcel of towel-wrapped pies into her handbag. "He will love them! You're a very good cook, you'll have a restaurant someday." As long as you get that food poisoning problem sorted out.
Carrie beamed with pride at Lupe's compliment. "I will! And you'll come eat there, right?"
"Of course." Lupe snapped her bag shut. "I've got to run, but I'll catch you next time I'm over here."
She's going to grow up fast, Lupe mused as she walked the short distance to her printer. Too fast. Poor little dear. She rapped on the door, but there was no answer so she let herself in. "Ralph?" Lupe called out into the gloom of the workshop. "I'm here to check the plates!"
Ralph, a squat little old man with glasses thicker than the chocolate blood she had to drink twice a day, faded in from the gloom of the shop. "Yes, yes, get your rear over here and sign off on them," he complained as Lupe rolled her eyes and trotted over. "They're all on the table behind you, have a look."
Lupe began to flip through the plates. "They're out of order," she commented.
"I know that! I been in the publishing business since before your parents were born, little lady, I know how numbers work! I never printed pages out of order, what sort of rinky-dink outfit you think I run?" Ralph was not known for his pleasant demeanor but his rates were reasonable and his products professional, if not luxurious. "You going to complain about things that don't matter or are you gonna make sure your filthy drawings are up to snuff?"
"Mmm," Lupe agreed and carefully studied the plates.
"You artists, you're all a bunch of cock-of-the-walks, you know that? Thinking your artistic vision isn't safe my foolish, simple craftsman hands," he ranted while filling some reservoirs with cyan ink. "You're a dime a dozen, all of you, and you'll be left wishing you had a solid trade after you crash and burn."
Lupe ignored his barbs. She was honestly flattered that he placed her in the category of haughty 'artist' and not opportunistic smut peddler. He grumpily rambled while Lupe examined the plates. The linework wasn't as crisp as she would have liked and there was some bleeding with intricate details, but all in all she was satisfied and she didn't feel like arguing with the cantankerous Ralph.
"They look wonderful," she sweetly said once she was done and stood up from the table. "I'll be more than happy to receive these when you're finished printing them."
"Hmmph," he grunted and wiped his glasses on his equally dirty shirt. "You think a smile and wink will turn me into your sweetheart, so you? I don't care if you are everyone's favorite little homewrecker, you aren't getting any special treatment from me."
"I wouldn't expect it," Lupe replied, just as sweetly. She thought about offering him one of the pies, but thought better of it. He may be sick all over my book. "When can I pick them up?"
"Sometime next week, maybe later. I'll ring you up when they're done, don't come back here and pester me about it anymore. I got actual work to do, unlike you, knobbing your hobs with well-heeled heels," Ralph grumbled and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
He sure knows a lot of gossip for someone who professes to not care about it, thought Lupe as she made her way back to her shop. She hurried a bit as it was getting late and she wanted to cash out the till herself. It wasn't that she considered Fawn to be dishonest, but prone to make mistakes. Carrie had moved to another corner, or hopefully sold all of her pies, sparing Lupe the discomfort of her pity.
Lupe yanked open the heavy door to the stairwell. I could have sworn the lights up here were on earlier. It didn't concern her too much though. Cheap filaments probably. We'll all have to start carrying lamps around like coal miners before too long. But as she stepped under the light she heard the crunch of glass under her feet.
Instinctively sensing danger, she reached into her purse and fumbled for her pistol, hoping to get it firmly in her hand before her potential mugger leaped at her. The Mason's Quarter was supposed to be safe, but every day it seemed that there were more desperate ADAM users on the street. Lupe really didn't want to kill someone, but she also really didn't want to get assaulted either. Whispers swirled that a body had been found in Pauper's Drop torn open like a pig at the butcher. Lupe peered into the dimly lit corridor next to the top of the stair but could see nothing.
It was possible she was overreacting, but overreaction or not she wanted to be back in the warm glow of the unbroken lights of Little Eden Plaza. Lupe slowly took a step down the stairs, then stopped and waited to hear a predator laying in wait. Hearing nothing, she took another tentative step, pistol at the ready.
Cautiously Lupe descended the steps, her nerves taut with each movement. She paid no heed to the water at the bottom of the steps and splashed her new-ish leather pumps through the water. Just when she thought she was in the clear the unmistakable rustling of a person hurriedly moving in the lower corridor.
Lupe gasped and tensed. It could be Carrie, don't shoot until you see who it is! But the footfalls fell away and melted into the recesses of the warren of hallways and corridors. Lupe took this as her chance to escape and bolted for the door to Little Eden Plaza.
She burst through the door and only put the pistol back once she was safely through. No one noticed her and she swiftly walked back to her shop, shoes splattering water with each step. If it was a thug why'd they run from me? Lupe had a good idea of who it was though.
She had thought she had been imagining it lately, and as such had been trying to avoid thinking about it, but lately she felt as if she was being watched. Lupe never saw anyone, but she didn't have to. Ever since she got engaged to Richard the sword of Dorthocles was swinging ever closer to her neck.