Suit Yourself

It was currently the fourth of the month, I had less than twenty days before my debt was due, and shockingly I wasn't the slightest bit worried.

The fate of my soul was at stake, if I wanted to save myself on the next full moon then I had to stay positive, and I have to say, I was finding it surprisingly easy. I was too happy to let myself worry. I know it's hard to voluntarily stop yourself from worrying but it wasn't something I was doing intentionally. It was as if the problem was seldom on my mind, I was just too happy to think about it.

I had a whole day where I didn't have to think about my debt or my magic. A whole day where nothing else mattered besides me and the man I loved. And possibly my little sister, who had some information about the old theater I asked her to research.

"It was a what?" It couldn't be! Michael never mentioned anything like this when he was talking about his grandfather's theater.

"It was a brothel." Jenny turned the computer round on its stand so that I could see the webpage.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, there had to be some sort of mistake. I read the page displayed on her laptop screen. "… 'History of the French Quarter… Au Paradis Des Gentlemen… In this day and age, women of all races find easy work at the local burlesque house'…" Ah, there was her mistake!

"Jenny, that's not a brothel, that's a burlesque house!" I announced rather dramatically. It was quite a relief to see that she had in fact made a mistake when reading the page.

As it turned out, my teenaged sister had clearly been given the wrong impression about this kind of business at some point in her life. "Well it's the same thing, isn't it?" She insisted.

"No it's not the same thing at all!" I panicked in a silly high-pitched voice. At this point I started to regret asking her to do this research, especially if I'd had known she was going to find something like that. "Burlesque is when women perform on stage wearing skimpy outfits." I felt very uncomfortable having to explain this to my fourteen-year-old sister, even though I believed she was old enough to start learning about the terms of the adult world. "A brothel is when women are paid to…Um…"

"Fornicate?" My sister queried in a rather unimpressed tone. At least she helped me clarify a difficult mishap with a simple answer.

I nodded repeatedly in quick succession before I could sigh out my answer. "Basically, yes." I still felt most awkward having to explain this to her, more for my own sake than for hers. It wasn't exactly a topic I felt comfortable talking about.

Jenny slammed her laptop shut and folded her arms. "Well, mum said it was the same thing."

"To her it probably is." I sighed and shrugged. "Because she doesn't agree with that type of culture full stop." I knew how mother felt about anyone who wasn't highclass and she thought even less of those who chose careers that she considered to be immoral. "Anyway let's forget about that small misunderstanding. What else did you find out?"

Since Jenny was too stubborn to open her laptop again after slamming it down she instead opened the compartment in her chair arm and retrieved some notes she made. "Here." She reached out and passed me the sheets of paper. "See if you can find a use for these."

"Oh, Jenny. Thank you." I showed my appreciation. "Although I'm afraid I will have to read them later. I'm going to be very busy for the rest of the evening."

My sister clutched the gearstick on the left arm of the chair, using it to maneuver herself and change direction. "Yeah, you've got to go and meet your boyfriend, haven't you?" She sounded more repulsed at me seeing Michael than learning the difference between brothels and burlesque. "You're meeting him in the downtown estate, right?"

"Well, actually. He's meeting me here." I told her, hoping that she wouldn't start rolling her eyes at me. "Mr Willson is taking us both there in the limo. In fact he should be waiting for me outside right now."

She did roll her eyes, but not at the suggestion that Michael might be downstairs. "And you're really going to wear that skirt, are you?" Jenny screwed up her face, looking like she was unsure about my fashion sense. "It looks like a ballerina's tutu."

"Jenny, really. Sometimes you're worse than mum." I wasn't in the mood to tolerate her grouchy attitude, I was about to enjoy a wonderful evening that I wasn't about to do was let her ruin it before it had started. "It just so happens, I think I look nice. And for once, I am wearing my favourite colours with no-one to forbid it."

"And unlike mum," Here she goes again. "I agree with you." Oh, that was a surprise. "Blue and black suits you rather nicely."

It almost sounded like she had changed her mind. Was Jenny complimenting me? "I thought you just said you didn't approve of my outfit?"

"Well, I'm not sure about the flouncy black puff round your waist." She referred to my skirt again. "But the colours are good."

I really didn't know what to say. "Thank you." I suppose that's all I could say after receiving a compliment from my sister who was usually impossible to impress. "But I'm not finished yet." I did have to resume my activities, I was still getting ready when Jenny reported in on her progress.

I opened the draw under my bedroom table as there was something inside it I had kept there hidden from mother's watchful eyes. It was something I had ordered last week and it had arrived just in time this morning.

"Now Jenny, I know how much you don't like talking to him." I had a difficult favour to ask of this moody teenager and I knew she wouldn't like it. "But would you mind going down to reception to see if he's here? And if he is could you tell him I'll only be a few more minutes?"

I heard the motor in my sister's wheelchair hum as she turned herself around to frown at me. "Do I have to?"

"Well no." I replied honestly. "But it would be nice if you two could occupy the same space without insulting each other for once."

"Hmm…" She was still very unsure about whether or not she liked the idea.

"You did tell me you wanted to give him a chance." I gave Jenny a sisterly smile.

"Alright." She sighed in a rather irritated way. "You can count on me."

I was all smartened up and ready to get this show on the road. I'd gotten used to some of this newage gear by now, so long as it had none of that fake voodoo motif on it. I know my friends would take offence to that if I started wearing their symbols without their permission. The same went for anybody else thinking of walking around flashing that kinda design.

Gosh, I hadn't thought about my friends for days. Not that I was slipping in my dedication or nothing. It was just because I'd been somewhat…hmm…sidetrack.

There I was, waiting for my doll to come running down those steps like a little Cinderella. Then we'd be flying across the city in the back of a limousine, bound for paradise, and nothing else in the world was gonna matter tonight.

"Hey, if it isn't mister tall, dark and useless." Except Charlie's little asset.

I was feeling too good to be bothered by her bad attitude, even though I responded all the same. "Who are you callin' 'useless', ya little brat?" We both knew how much I'd done for her favourite big sister since she stumbled into my world.

"Well your fashion sense sure is." The blonde looked me up and down with an expression on her face like she was trying to work something out.

"Your knock at me is a knock at cha sister, shorty." I had her there. "Charlie's the one who bought me these threads." I knew she wasn't gonna argue with that.

"At least you don't seem to be ungrateful in regards to her generosity."

"I most certainly am not." I proudly insisted as I swaggered. "Come to think of it, it's a shame I didn't think to buy her some kinda present for this very special evening."

Just when I thought I'd heard the last of that bossy brat's cocky little mouth she came back at me with another picky problem.

"Buy her a present?" She huffed. "With whose money?"

Now she was hitting a nerve. "Well I ain't exactly got a job, blondie." It ain't my fault I never had any dosh of my own.

"Funny that, maybe if you did you wouldn't have to mooch off my sister."

What a hypocrite! That stuck-up punk had some guts coming out with a comment like that. "That's sound advice, coming from somebody who's never worked a day in their life."

"That's because I'm still at school!"

"That don't mean that ten years time you ain't gonna be sitting on your lazy, fat, stuck-up ass while breadline folks like me are doin' all the workin' for ya!" I was right. I was right and she knew it! This punk was born into riches and anybody born with millions of bucks just waiting for them in their bank ain't gonna care about the likes of anybody else. All they care about is where's the next flashy gizmo or fancy car is coming from and they don't care who they have to walk all over in order to get it.

'Whatcha gonna say to that, huh ya spoiled little punk? Give me ya best shot. C'mon!' I thought to myself while I eagerly awaited her reply, if she had anything to say at all.

It seemed like that overconfident rascle wasn't finished after all. "Alright. First of all my arse isn't lazy. It's crippled." She wheeled herself closer, (this kid sure had guts, I'll tell ya that). "Second of all, I can't even begin to describe how sick I am of people like you who don't know just how rich they are. Moping around and moaning about everything you don't have, never once grateful for what you do have."

Just when I thought she wouldn't dare open her mouth again some more crap comes out of it. 'What we do have', what the hell was that supposed to mean!?

"I'll tell you what you don't have." She leaned forward, ready to rant right in my face. "You don't have a two inch gap between your twelfth and thirteenth vertebra. You don't have to rely on a catheter bag and a nappy every time you need the loo. You don't have to check yourself every day in case you might have broken your leg and didn't know about it! You don't have to wear a medical alert bracelet, you don't have to have a nurse on call for you twenty-four hours a day, you don't have to worry about who's going to wheel you around if your chair breaks, you don't even have to worry about wanting kids when you're older because your brain doesn't even realise your uterus exists!"

… Okay, I'll admit, that was a pretty long list of things money can't buy.

"'Oh, look how empty my wallet is." The ranting blonde brat mocked me and all the folks I stood for, and strangely it didn't make me as angry as I thought it would. "'I'm so poor, feel sorry for me'…I'm rich. Is it going to buy me legs? No. Life doesn't discriminate on class so why should you or I?"

…Okay folks, I've gotta get honest here. No way was I expecting that spoiled blonde brat to let off an outburst like that. And the worst part about her rant was…(and I feel pretty peeved having to admit this)…at every breath she took, she had a pretty fair point.

Now I still firmly believe that it ain't fair how folks like me can be scrounging for dough when there's fat cats out there who don't know the meaning of effort. But this little shorty ain't one of them, and it took me up until that point to realise it. Even though at the time I wasn't sure if I was ready to accept that I might have been wrong.

"Sorry for shouting in your face, lanky." The blonde managed to both apologize and insult me in the same sentence. "But there were things that had to be said. Mainly, that money won't solve all your problems."

I refused to believe that that was true. After all, I wasn't crippled or nothing. There ain't nothing I wanted that money couldn't buy. "That don't change things." I insisted as I grinned with desire. "I still won't rest until I get all the money-grabbing glory fat cats like you take for granted."

"That's fine." The smug punk swerved herself around and turned her back on me. "And I won't rest until you shave that stupid mustache."

That sarcastic little brat! I felt the smile wipe clean off my face with that last remark. Thankfully I had no time to react to that last minute insult when I heard the most beautiful voice calling me from the top of the steps.

"Facilier!" My Charlie doll hurried her little tush down the concrete steps. She couldn't have gotten here soon enough, I'd had just about enough of that little sis of hers. Now that she was here I forgot all about that stupid dumb blonde and focused my attention on something more important.

"Charlie doll." I welcomed her just the way she wanted, with my arms wrapped around her body. "I was starting to wonder what was holding you up, girl."

"I'm sorry, I was just making a few last minute preparations." She released me and as she did I felt something bump against my leg, something that made a crinkling noise like plastic. Turns out that I was so excited about seeing my doll that I hadn't noticed she was carrying something.

I watched as she reached in her bag and rustled around for a second or two before taking out a little white box. Well, I say 'little' but it was too big for her to hold it with one hand. She then idiley tossed the empty carrier back to her sister, letting it land across her lap. "Here, Jenny. Hold me this."

That little sis of hers just screwed up her face, giving the two of us a pretty unimpressed look. "Gee, thanks." Haha, you should have seen the look on her face, folks. It made me feel better after our little spat, let me tell ya.

"Here." Charlie offered me the pale paper box. What? This was for me?

"Oh, Charlie sweetheart." I grinned, not that I was bashful or nothing. I was actually pretty curious to find out what my doll had conjured up for me. "What have you gone spending your money on?" Not that she didn't have plenty to spend.

I unhooked the tab on the front of the box that kept the top closed then lifted the lid. I saw what looked like black velvet and the shape was similar to my hat, just a little smaller. Hey, is that what it was?

"I know how much you miss wearing your hat when you're out and about." Charlie gave me a few details. "And I know you can't because it's not the right style for this era. But this is."

I took the smooth black crown out of the box and looked at it in full view. There was something written across the front. Shining and silver, the name 'Dr Facilier' written in a signature style with diamond studs that glittered and gleamed.

"And I also know how much you love expensive things, so those are real diamonds."

They what now? "You're kiddin' me?" She had to be kidding me. Not that I didn't believe she had the money, but would she really spend it on this? If these were real diamonds then this little top hat had to be worth a few grand at least. Maybe even a few hundred grand. Heck, how was I supposed to know? I ain't got a clue how much diamonds cost. "Exactly how much did you fork out for this snappy hat?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is whether or not you like it." My Charlie doll sounded pretty eager for me to try it on and give her my opinion.

I gave the signature styled diamond writing one last glance before trying it on for a fitting. Hey, it was a pretty good fit. It felt a little unfamiliar seeing how it was shorter and lighter than my usual gear. But the main thing was I could wear it. I could wear a classy top hat and nobody would give me any funny looks about it.

"It's perfect." I grinned at my generous little doll. "Perfect for a magical night out."

I was still trying it out when I heard some old gent calling my doll from the sidewalk.

"Miss Crawler?" I figured it was that Wilson guy.

"Just a minute, Mr Willson." And I figured right.

I took my darling doll by the hand (and kinda caught her off guard). "C'mon, princess." I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close.

She leaned her head on my body and started walking with me down the marble steps. "I'm not a princess."

I chuckled to myself. "And I ain't no Prince Charmin'." I smugly smirked.

"You're charming enough for me."