The Classix

(OLD) Chapter 9

"Well, last time they weren't trying to get us engaged," I point out. "So that's one difference we can spot."

He laughs. "True that. So they're shaking things up."

"Looks like it."

"How excellent."

Cartney goes to pour me more sparkling water, just barely tilting the bottle sideways. The liquid comes out in a painfully slow trickle, like the little droplets water from a faucet you thought you'd fully turned off. I believe I must be eighteen years old now when my glass is finally half full.

"Everything all right?" I ask.

"I'm paranoid."

"About water?"

"The waiter keeps bringing us new bottles, even when they're not fully finished. Who knows––maybe the next is gonna have a ring in it or something."

"We ought not order the soufflé, then," I say. "Maybe we'll accidentally scoop up some diamonds instead of dessert."

He shakes his head. "This is maddening. Can't even enjoy dinner. Why do I have to be wrapped into all of this?"

"Because I'm wrapped up in all of this."

"I'm not even a Famoux member!"

"The association is enough."

"Well then I formally apologize, Ray. I know it's your birthday and all, but we're breaking up."

"If only it was so easy."

Cartney sighs, leaning back into his chair. "The contract with Kaytee was infinitely easier to handle than this. Granted, I sort of believed that we were actually dating, just with a little legal action for the label's sake, but we weren't dealing with any scary threats or paranoia like now."

"Sounds like a dream, as far as fake relationships go."

"Yeah, it really was. And people actually liked Kaytee and I. I released a beautiful song for you that everybody should be loving, but all anybody can do is complain about how over-exposed our relationship is."

Just at the mention of the public, we both glance around the room. Tonight's dinner is at an elegant fixture down the street from Ace, the club we Famoux members frequent the most out of the others in Colburn. I caught word from Angad on the car ride here that we might be making a stop at Ace later tonight. If that's actually the case, I can think of a million things I'd rather be doing with my birthday than having to dance under public scrutiny all night long.

"You'd think they'd call this off," I say. "Buchan and Norax. If we just annoy people, why are we still together?"

"DEFED's got eyes on the inside, remember?"

"Do you think they're influencing things?"

lDefinitely. They're probably the ridiculous interns who try to run everything at company meetings. Young, claiming they know what the people really want."

"I doubt Norax would listen to an intern like that."

He shrugs, setting his menu down. "Maybe they're not the interns, then. Maybe they're just running everything. That's a good way to make things happen."

The waiter approaches us before I can respond. As Cartney orders us something white chocolate with an elaborate name, I consider his words. It wouldn't be the first time I've thought something like this––that DEFED could be running the Famoux. Sometimes I can see their brand of malicious in Norax––we all can, really.