I blink, realizing this must be the front office for the building and the car must’ve been sent by Kas. “Th-thanks.” I hang up, not sure why I’m so embarrassed. People probably order taxis all the time, and that’s all this really is anyway.
At least, that’s what I think ‘til I get downstairs and actually see the thing. It’s a proper black cab, tinted windows and everything. The driver stands outside wearing a suit and tie, opening up the passenger door when I get close. I give him a nod, feeling my cheeks grow hot. Luxury sounds great, but this is a bit much for a dress fitting.
It’s a quick drive to the shop. I try to be quick and open the door before the driver can, but it’s like he can teleport.
The passenger door opens, and I finally find my words. “Thank you.”
I take about two steps inside when another man, also dressed in a full suit, meets me. “How can I help you today, madame?”
Where does Kas find these people? “I’m meeting a friend here. Kamsa?”
“Right this way.”
He leads me to the back, opening up a door that leads to a big room with a raised, circular stage surrounded by mirrors. There’s a couch and a coffee table set up behind it, and a side room with a drawn curtain. Kas and Rosier are sitting on the couch while a woman with black hair all the way down to her butt examines a rack with a dozen dresses on it.
Kas stands up, “Minnie! How was the drive?”
“You have a driver?”
“Of course, I’ve had one for decades. Not always that one, of course, but I never got into the habit of driving myself.”
I look past him at Rosier, who’s sitting with his legs wide on the couch, wearing his normal, loose fitting clothes. “Did I miss the tux fitting?”
Rosier pipes up, “I’m not putting it back on.”
“Awww,” Kas and I bemoan together.
Kas looks at him with knit brows “You won’t even put it back on for Minnie?”
I shake my head. “I’ll see it during the gala. It's fine. By the way do we have the tickets–”
The door bursts open, and a very frustrated man walks past me and right to Kas. “Here.” He shoves an envelope at Kas’ chest. I can tell he wants to leave, but I step in front of him, blocking his path.
“Hi, I’m guessing those are the gala tickets?”
The man lifts his brows but still manages to look angry. “They are. I’m guessing you’re the reason Kas came crying to me last night about those tickets?”
I give him a smile. “Guilty as charged.” His jaw tightens.
Kas waves the tickets. “Thanks for these, Timmy-dear. Maybe next year we can go all four of us?”
“Bite me.” He marches off.
Both Rosier and I look at Kas, who calls after his friend, “Come by my place if you want a proper bite, dear!”
“I thought you said he was your friend?” I ask.
“He is. He just gets bitter sometimes. Part of his nature.” I tilt my head, and Kas continues with a flourish of his hand, “He was good friends with Alexander the Great; I was good friends with the Pauravas. Ancient history, but he still gets worked up about it.”
“You’re soooo old Kas,” the woman with black hair drones. “And what do you have to show for it?”
To my surprise, Rosier comes to his defense. “Says the bitch begging for scraps.”
Harsh.
“As if!” She plants her hands on her hips. “I don’t beg.”
“Right.” The smirk across Rosier’s face tells me he’s not going to let up. “You’re here out of the goodness of your greedy little heart. How does altruism feel? Or should I call it what it is—ass kissing?” The woman makes an offended noise, but Rosier’s not done yet. “Kas does a much better job than you do.”
