Fourth Estate Emblements | Thorns

The view from their table by the window was breathtaking. No matter how many times he had seen it, no matter the angle or circumstance, Shadow was always struck, at least for a moment, with a sense of awe. In his twenties, when cynicism colored everything with a grimy film, he chided himself for falling prey to such a childish feeling. Now, he just let himself be gripped.

A sharply dressed waiter approached their table while someone in a dark suit watched them intently from afar. The owner, perhaps, or the business manager. Someone who wasn’t normally front of house. With practiced effort, Shadow kept his irritation off his face. Most establishments had the decency to fret and simper over ‘VIP’ guests out of sight.

“Madame et monsieur, may I present to you the prix fixe menu?” The young, but not too young, waiter opened and offered Breezie a leather folio. “Tonight, we are offering three sets. Traditional, vegetarian, and vegan. Each is eight courses.”

Breezie hmm’ed, unimpressed. “None of those. I’m not very hungry. I will be ordering à la carte.” She took the menu and scanned the courses. Shadow bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting or smiling at Breezie’s brazen display of difficulty. She was conducting what Nicole called a pressure test. An unkind, unrelenting, and unfair string of requests to judge an establishment’s adaptability, attention to detail, and endurance of abuse. Shadow generally avoided participating in such practices.

Frankly, Shadow was just surprised that Breezie’s comment regarding her niece’s birthday was genuine, because he had chalked it up as bullshit banter. That Breezie really was using their encounter for something useful filled Shadow with a sense of relief. It made the whole affair seem less transactional. Friendly, almost.

“Madame, I’m afraid that we-“ The waiter began as he handed Shadow a menu. Shadow’s eyes shot to Breezie for her response to the sound of resistance. It was time to see just how much of a bitch Breezie was going to be.

Breezie looked up, her expression mild, bored even. Le visage d'un dieu indifférent. “Is there a problem?” It was not a question. The growing pack of faces watching from, what they must consider, a respectful distance tensed. One strode a step towards the floundering waiter.

The waiter sputtered. “No, madame.” He emitted a small chuckle to hide his nervousness. “I am just afraid that we do not have an updated à la carte menu so the lady must needs use the prix fixe menu to make her selection.” Good save.

Breezie’s eyes moved back to the menu. “That’s fine.” She seemed mildly irritated, as if begrudging the opportunity to dig into the poor man. Such impatience when there was still a very long way to go.

The waiter relaxed. “Very good.” He clearly did not know what was about to happen, the poor man, that he was about to be the butt of a joke only those above a certain net worth were in on.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, her chest swelling behind the bright red of her blazer, Breezie began. She listed off a selection of dishes, a disjointed set gathered from across all three offerings, every one needing some adjustment of some kind. Sear the bass rather than grill it. Beluga caviar, not Ossetra. No, I don’t like broccolini, substitute white asparagus. Quail eggs? Where are they sourced from? I don’t like that farm. Use duck eggs instead.

Shadow watched with growing amusement. He knew he should be aghast at Breezie’s treatment of the waiter, but he couldn’t help himself. On one hand, he was impressed at her thoroughness, and, on the other, disgusted at the excess, hypocritical as that may be. She was the unbridled entitlement of an entire banquet hall of wedding attendees, tables full of stringent wives and spinster aunts, an encyclopedia of specifications and exceptions.

The waiter, who seemed to be realizing the magnitude of his situation, nodded profusely, offering punctuating affirmations occasionally. Wonderful. Of course. Superb. Shadow watched a sheen of sweat mat the fur on his brow under the weight of Breezie’s customization of the meal. Despite claiming to not be hungry, she appeared to be indulging.

Finally, Breezie released him with a “That’s it.” and returned the menu. He took it with a final bob of his head and a “Thank you, madame.”

“And for you, sir?” The waiter turned to Shadow, his smile bright and in place, but his eyes betraying his anxiety. Please, the young man begged, go easy on me.

“I’ll have the same.” Shadow said, handing the menu back. He could almost hear the hiss of a released tension making way for relief.

“Very good, sir.” The waiter nodded. “I will get this started for you.”

After the waiter scuttled away, Breezie leaned back and lifted her arms to run along the top of the plush booth. Her dark eyes, nearly black in the dim lighting, considered him with a chagrined intensity that he found himself resenting.

<<Your mother’s a cunt.>> She opened, and Shadow choked. He slapped a hand over his mouth to hide the utterly involuntary grin that split his muzzle. With great effort, he did not laugh audibly. Breezie continued, <<She harassed my dearest aunt, whom I love actually, to tears. I have a million better places to be than here, but here I am, nonetheless. For my love of her, to end her suffering by a billion bitchy needles. Not for you, you bastard.>>

Shadow clenched his teeth against the rabid snickers trying to force his jaw open. Tears pricked the edges of his eyes. Across the table, a massive shit-eating smirk spread wide across Breezie’s face, accenting the deadly sharpness in her eyes. His vision started to blot out and Shadow realized he was suffocating. Airways had to be unblocked, but that led to the laughter manifesting. Shadow found his diaphragm aching as he fought to maintain some dignity and not disturb the dining room.

Breezie had no such qualms. Her deep, luscious voice rippled out, sentencing the conversations around them to silence.

<> Shadow finally managed to speak, between sips of air to catch his breath.

“Well, there’s an understatement.” Breezie rolled her eyes. “Let’s cut the stuffy shit and have a proper go at having a decent evening.”

Shadow raised his glass. “Very well. I can drink to that.”

The conversation moved forward comfortably. Breezie was funny in a brash, bold-faced, and crude way. She clearly had some deep-seated resentments towards her family (or dynasty, rather) as a whole, but liked her parents and siblings well enough. For Shadow’s part, he discussed his nieces and nephew, their interests and accomplishments, but had little to share beyond. The Kintobor’s was a short tree.

“What do you do beside work?” Breezie asked.

Ceaselessly yearn after a woman who like as not never wants to see my face again. “Glad hand for my charitable foundation, mostly.” Shadow took a long drink from his glass. He’d be needing another soon.

“I said, besides work.” Breezie sneered. Shadow crinkled his snout in mock irritation. “Never mind, I’ll have my girl ask your girl.” She sat up and squinted at the bar. “Where is your girl, anyway?”

Shadow quirked a brow, feigning ignorance. “My girl?” He knew to whom she was referring, but to acknowledge the pejorative seemed extremely disrespectful to Nicole.

“Your work mother.” Breezie rolled her eyes, doubling down. When Shadow scowled, she continued, “Whatever, you know what I mean. The girl who makes sure you wake up on time for school and schedules playdates for you like this one.”

Shadow’s snout wrinkled in disgust. “My assistant has the night off.”

“Shame.” Breezie shrugged. “Mine’s at the bar getting shots of us for one of my tabloid rags.”

With a jolt, Shadow twisted in his seat and beheld a woman at the bar holding a smartphone up as if to take a selfie, conspicuously aimed at their table.

“Hey, turn back around!” Breezie snapped, “The pictures are supposed to be low quality and candid. You want to give my editing team more work?”

Shadow returned his attention to his dinner companion. “I didn’t consent to this.” He growled.

“The City’s one-party consent, I’m afraid. If you don’t like it, get your bat woman to change it.” She shifted suddenly, right as Shadow had raised his glass to his lips again, <<Speaking of which, are you two actually fucking?>> She raised a brow.

Shadow choked once more. He quickly placed down the beverage and retrieved his napkin to cough into.

<> Breezie continued. <<I’m just curious how that works. Is it true what they say? Alpha bitchs have cocks?>> She seemed to be intentionally trying to rile him now.

Shadow ignored that question in favor of the first one. <<It seems counterintuitive to be simultaneously constructing a scandalous and serendipitous narrative around us having dinner while also supporting the narrative that I am in a sexual relationship with my best friend.>>

Breezie smirked, leaning her head against her hand. <>

Shadow huffed. <<Of course, truth has nothing to do with it?>>

Breezie snorted. <<What intrinsic value does the truth provide? How many people’s lives are improved by knowing the truth of who you’re fucking?>>

Shadow wrinkled his snout and narrowed his eyes, <>

<<Boring.>> Breezie stabbed a finger at him. “But throw in a little creative license and thousands of people’s day gets a little better. The entertainment value is in speculation, gossiping conspiratorially with their friends and randos online. Picking their favorite object of your affection and then fighting to the death about in with complete strangers. Drama! Excitement!” She splayed her hands out and wiggled her fingers. “And you want to steal all that away for something as useless as the truth? That’s very selfish, Shadow. I thought you were a good person.” Breezie’s smirk climbed high on her face, revealing her canines on one side

Shadow did not answer immediately, contemplating whether to rise to the bait or lean into the bit. He tilted his glass back, finishing it. His gaze swept across the dining room and caught the eye of the unfortunate waiter who’d been assigned to watch their table like a hawk. Shadow held up the glass and flicked finger at it. Despite the fabric of his glove, it gave out a satisfying ring. The waiter nodded and dashed away to the bar.

<<You sound like my mother.>> Shadow answered finally.

Breezie’s eyes grew wide for a moment before her face melted into a bright smile briefly, before erupting into cacophonous laughter that beat the rest of the dining room into silence once more. <<Ah, the greatest of honors.>> She smirked, and Shadow found himself grinning back.

Though delayed in starting, perhaps so that runners could be sent out for missing ingredients, once the parade of dishes began, Shadow quickly became satiated and resorted to only brief bites thereafter. The waste, as each nearly untouched dish was removed, was almost as nauseating as finishing each would have made him.

Breezie rarely took more than a mouthful of each and kept a running conversation, if it could be called that, of what she liked and what she didn’t care for, with Shadow. He knew none of the information was for him, but for the waiter, who had a pad of paper now (Good on him), lingering at her elbow. A second, older waiter, stood behind and out of sight of Breezie, listening intently. An extra set of ears. The second man looked down whenever he caught Shadow’s gaze.

Eventually the fountain of expensive calories ebbed and the pair found themselves looking at several small desserts that could easily be mistaken for abstract works of art. “By the way,” Breezie said, spoon shattering a swan wrought in delicate sugar work, “I like your bat. She seems fun.”

Shadow huffed dryly. “I would not describe Rouge as mine, by any stretch of the imagination.”

<<The lord doth protest too much, me thinks.>> Breezie teased.

<<Rumor is a pipe. Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures.>> Shadow recriminated.

“You understand me exactly!” Breezie exclaimed, her usual teasing smile replaced with something lighter and brighter, accompanied by a glint in her eyes, though that could have just been the candle light. “And my god, the rumors around white, spunky, and self-righteous are delicious.”

Shadow sat back. <> He did not want to talk about Rouge, let alone what he feared Breezie was about to explicitly ask for.

“Not at all.” She grinned and narrowed her eyes, <<Unless you’re into that sort of thing.>> There it is.

<<You’ve somehow made quid pro quo sound even more morally murky.>> He swirled the dregs of his final cocktail.

<<You talk like you’re not poised with a hand up her ass.>> When his ears pinned back aggressively, she added, “Metaphorically…”

“I have no idea why anyone thinks Rouge listens to me about anything.” Shadow shook his head. “The sun would sooner rise in the west.” No one, not god or the devil himself, could force Rouge in a direction she wasn’t already heading.

“I know you’re new to this whole economics thing, but it’s considered polite to receive goods and service when you exchange money, but I guess you are a modern man, aren’t you?”

Shadow leaned forward, smirking. “Jealous?”

Breezie smiled, her dark eyes sparkling in the dim lighting. “Yes, actually.” Shadow raised a brow. “Miss Baton reminds me of myself, you know, if I had something as cheap as a soul. I’d love to meet her. I bet she’s a riot, but we’d likely go together like grease and a spark.” Explosively.

“You have no idea.” Shadow chuckled at the idea. For as relaxed and self-possessed as Rouge presented herself, she’d likely seem like a coiled mess when confronted by Breezie’s blatant trolling. If he wasn’t certain the encounter would result in a trip to the hospital and a police report, Shadow would be interested in conniving to get the two together.

“Mon dieu, that woman is such good content, though. Her actual actions are more entertaining than all the scandal pieces I’ve been rejecting.” Shadow’s ear twitched. He was getting too relaxed. He needed to stay vigilant for when the request came. The solicitation of collaboration or, even cruder, just a flagrant request for capital in exchange for favorable coverage.

Rouge would chew him out for allowing himself to be cornered. As he mulled over how far he was willing to go for his friend, he commented, “I shudder to think, given what trash is out there already.”

Breezie groaned. “Flimsy, isn’t it? And that’s the shit that gets past the editors. It would be easier if she wasn’t the squeakiest clean politician I’ve ever had the misfortune to cover. No corruption, no spouse to cheat on, and her only money tie is so desperate to prove he isn’t his daddy that he’s about to lose his company.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. Breezie’s teasing grin grew longer. <<But her opponent…>>

“Perhaps we should talk about something else.” Shadow didn’t care for the skunk Rouge was running against, though that might be because St. John had worked at the Department of Public Health and Safety and that agency was on his shit list.

<<As you wish, but I’ll just say that I’d love to have her on for an interview. And who knows what she could learn off the record?>>

Coffee was offered and it became Shadow’s turn to be an obnoxious snob. The selection was adequate, but it took several tries for Shadow to receive the appropriate brew. The food was excellent, but they couldn’t make a proper cup of coffee? He managed to swallow a biting remark about sending someone to the nearest Kraken to learn how the adults do it. Breezie laughed louder and louder each time he rejected a cup.

During the coffee service, Breezie’s phone chimed, and she thumbed it on. “Oh, look at this.” She placed it on the table and turned it towards him. “I told you my people work fast.”

Shadow beheld the rough copy for a print tabloid article with the headline Money in Love? Embattled drug lord dating beautiful heiress! Shadow quickly scrolled through a series of pictures of him and Breezie earlier in the dinner. His jaw clenched.

“You can’t be serious.” He said as he slid the phone back.

“Of course not. Obviously, I should be first on the call sheet.” She grinned.

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Embattled drug lord?”

Breezie sighed, “Whoever had to stay up late in the writer’s room clearly thinks they are clever. That’s cut, obviously. I’m a raging cunt on the daily, but I’m not so uncivil as to not offer a profession curtesy. Besides, it makes me look like some little finishing schoolgirl struck dumb by danger. Obvious rewrite.” She rapidly typed on her phone, probably sending editing notes.

Time to get this over with. Shadow growled low in his throat. “What do you want?”

Breezie arched a brow, barely looking away from her phone. “Oh, I’m a very simple woman, really.” She put down her device. <> She smiled like she loved getting that question. <<I’m just an attention whore, sir. The signal. The noise. It’s all the same to me so long as everyone is paying attention.>>

“At least you are honest, I suppose.”

Breezie hummed. “More than you, at least.”

“Is that so?”

“Every time you look at me, it’s clear you’re thinking of someone else.”

Shadow blushed, the heat piling in for a raucous pool party at the tips of his ears and on his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He denied poorly, “The whole point of this dinner-“

“Yeah, okay, you’re a shit liar, you know that?” Breezie smirked at his glare. “I’m in media, Shadow. The full goddamned spectrum of falsehoods, from pure fantasy to shit that could almost be describe as ‘true’. Let me spell it out for you.” She leaned forward. <<You look at me like we’re both gay.>>

Shadow’s flush changed flavor to indignation and intensified. “Je vous demande pardon?”

“You heard me clearly.” Breezie sat back, her elegantly clad arm trailing along the back of the booth once more. “I have a proposal for you, Mr. Businessman.”

Shadow grimaced but remained silent. Had he misread the situation? Was she about to blackmail him somehow? Why did she agree to this meeting in the first place?

“The fact that you’re here with me and not with her, him, or them, singular or plural, means you can’t be. That’s pretty clear.” Breezie’s brow lifted and a beat passed wherein Shadow was supposed to deny it. When he had nothing to say, she continued, “For whatever reason, I don’t care. It’s not my business and, besides, my imagination is far more entertaining than your truth could possibly be.”

Shadow looked down at his half empty cup of coffee. “And if it is as you say?” He said quietly. “What is your proposal?”

“Look. I get it a bit more than you probably know. There’s…billions of people my family would consider too low born to even consider allowing me to look at…” She trailed off, her eyes going, perhaps for the first time, to the window and view beyond it.

“And you’ve fallen in love with one of them.” Shadow finished for her.

It was Breezie’s turn to blush and grimace. “I didn’t say that. Fuck my family. I do whatever the hell I want.” Shadow’s brow raised at her fierce glare, and he briefly wondered if this was how he looked cross. As quickly as it erupted, the anger passed. “That being said, it’s simply more convenient to avoid needless shitty scrutiny, if you know what I mean?”

“I can agree with that sentiment. A mutually beneficial agreement then.” Shadow gestured to Breezie’s phone. “And this is how you propose to go about it?”

“Largely. We’ll have to collocate on occasion. Reinforce the narrative with new content.” Breezie shrugged. “It’ll have to be public. I have some ideas if you’re interested.”

Shadow sighed. He gestured to the phone once more. “May I?”

Breezie unlocked it and brought the article back up before passing it to him. Shadow scrolled through the article. It was godawful. Violating, erroneous, borderline pornographic in parts. “Who reads this garbage?”

Breezie snorted. “Fucking everyone, you prude. You know my rags keep romance writers on staff just to juice up the copy, right? Those bitches know plenty about the body that isn’t taught in medical school, if you get my meaning.”

Shadow’s eyes hardened and gave her a pointed look. “There will be none of that.”

Breezie hummed noncommittally. “Slow burn still catches fire eventually.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest and closing his eyes. Though the proposition was, in many ways, disgusting, and irritated his sense of loyalty to Amy, the prospect of having Irena satisfied without having to follow through with anything that would jeopardize his chances with Amy was…well, it was impossible to turn down.

<<Very well.>> He sighed. <<We shall cover for one another.>>

“Shall we, now?”

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Though,” He pointed at her phone, “My office needs to review every word of anything you intend to publish.”

Breezie nodded. “Acceptable. I don’t see any harm in allowing you to squash journalistic integrity under your merciless heel.”

“Now you sound like Rouge.”

Breezie laughed at that. “You know, I thought this whole dinner was about your little drug company.” Shadow arched a brow. “Half the hostesses in the city accept my coin for pics and gossip of who’s eating with who. Most of the info gets sold to the finance fucks to wildly speculate on, but occasionally a truly bizarre pattern emerges.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes.

“Daddy Doom is thinking about the third generation, isn’t he? The board fuckery is a tug on the leash?” Shadow’s quills flared and his muzzle contorted into a bare fanged snarl. That Breezie was, thank god himself, wrong did nothing to temper the instantaneous rage that filled Shadow. Breezie held up her hands, a flash of actual fear glancing off her face. “Holy shit, fuck! I get it! Sensitive topic!”

As Shadow desperately struggled to rein in his emotions, he found he’d leaned forward. Pulling back, he ran a hand over his face and back into his quills. <<I’m sorry. I- Forgive me.>> He was breathing heavily. Fuck me!

<<Okay, okay. Off the record, you need to sort your daddy issues out, like, yesterday.>> She laughed. <<That was amazing content by the way. I’m gonna have to get the security camera footage, goddamn.>> She bared her fangs and mimicked Shadow’s growl, but her eyes were smiling.

A stab of fear arched through him. <<Please don’t.>>

<<I’m joking. I’m joking.>> She blew out a breath. <<Fucking Alphas!>> Breezie hummed. “Getting back on topic, I think this will do quite nicely. No contract, of course. I’m not stupid. One day one of us’ll get what we want and have no use for the other any longer. Until then, do we have an agreement?” She held out her hand.

Shadow thought for a moment more. This was dangerous, that was certain, but pretending to date Breezie L’Hérissonne had to be easier to endure than any further appointments his mother could muster. “We do.” He answered, taking Breezie’s hand and giving it a short shake.

Breezie smiled. “And who knows.” She stood and brushed wrinkles out of her trousers. “Maybe it’ll even be fun.” She gave him a wink and sauntered through the restaurant, waitstaff and other patrons parting before her.

Shadow watched Breezie’s wake of rarefied air dissipate for a few moments before turning back to the window. Absently he retrieved his phone and typed out a quick message to Nicole, who handled the technicalities, like paying the bill. 500% tip, commend the waiter. The corner of his mouth quirked down when her reply came immediately. You don’t have to reply when you have the evening off. He returned. Of course sir, she replied.

Shadow frowned, uninterested in arguing. He put his phone away and returned his gaze to the view.

Lights stretched far into the distance, cursing the stars to obscurity with their jealous luminescence. The City spread out before him like a glimmering blanket of steel and glass. Orderly lines and sharp angles pressing the world into the right and useful shapes. The power and persistence of society brought to bear against the chaos of the natural world.

But Shadow just wanted to see the stars.