The Favoured, The Fair and Ms. Vérité Claire

2 Beauty And The Beast (part 2)

Vérité's new car looked like a green rollerskate.

"Will Bernard be coming?" Julia asked, hoping the answer was no.

"He hasn't reported back from his rendezvous so I should think not."

"But the car's here." As Julia got into the hybrid her nose protested. "Vérité, what's that's smell?"

"Don't worry, it's non-GMO." Vérité sniffed. "Oh, that must be Bernard's cologne. I told him Umberto would drive him to his date. He sat in here twenty minutes before I remembered Umberto was off. Shall we?"

They drove on battery power to the address downtown which was faded on a non-descript door between a fast food restaurant and a pub. Vérité could not park on the busy street so she told Julia she'd circle around the block until she was ready to jump back in.

Julia opened the door into a grungy concrete stairwell which echoed with an odd repetitive sound like a basketball being dribbled in the distance. She checked the door to make sure it hadn't locked behind her. Two skinny flights of stairs later she reached another door. Now the sounds were louder, thumps and squeaks and voices. Lots of male voices. She could barely hear her own knock. When no one else did she turned the door handle and found herself standing at the entrance of a training gym.

Boxers in a ring looked up with unwelcoming glares. Were they confused? Irritated? They made Julia feel as though she had just walked into the men's washroom. When she let the door close behind her the second looks started a wave of wolf whistles and double takes. Moe Gray, owner of Gray's Training Room stepped out of his office to Julia's right.

"Sweetheart, you lost?"

"No, I'm supposed to be meeting someone here. Orson Vaughn."

His eyebrows shot up. "No kidding. Come on in."

He offered her a seat in his stale office, a patronizing look of a doubtful wise-guy as he flipped the receiver of an intercom mic. "Orson Vaughn. Your sister's hee-eere." He let go of the switch and chuckled. "You're not really his sister."

"Oh good, I wondered."

"What are ya?"

"Just an acquaintance."

"Fine, don't tell me." A painful pause stretched. "You into fights?"

"Not really. Maybe duels."

"Huh?"

"The slapping ones," Julia said distractedly. There was, almost predictably, a nudie calendar on the wall beside her.

"Oh, girl fights?" Moe's face lit up.

"I meant like, you slap someone with a glove. 'I challenge you to a duel!' Fencing, I guess."

"Yeah. My wife likes PBS."

"How nice."

A young man knocked and entered the office. He looked at Julia. "Which one of you was adopted?"

"Whaddya want?" Moe snapped.

"I forget now," the guy said, puzzled.

"Where's Vaughn?"

"Ring Two with Nate."

"Well while you're trying to remember whatever it is, go get him!" Moe looked at Julia. "You can just wait here with me, sweetheart."

"Thanks, but why don't I just go get him myself," Julia said, excusing herself from condensed leering.

It wasn't hard to spot Orson once she was pointed in the right direction. He was in a boxing ring in the far back corner pounding the buttery bejeezus out of his opponent. As Julia wove past the other gym members some smiled, a few nodded, and one simply sped up his treadmill.