The Curse of Water

Chapter 2- The White Mile

Chapter Two – The White Mile

After my daytime makeup (Oh yes, I have a day and an evening look today. Kill me now!) was finally finished, Mr. Rafaelli wheeled in uncountable racks containing my choices of clothes I'm to wear today.

There was a great selection for lunch and afternoon hang out, some track suits for my training with Apollo (which I insisted on keeping in my schedule, especially today) some evening casual looks for tea (or the weekend dinner that you have before a late party with a buffet that is longer than a freight train) and a million robes for my evening beauty session (this only happened on special occasions, with the extended version on my birthdays) as if that was something I cared about the selection for. Then there it was, the long awaited design of my birthday suit (pun very much intended- stop grinning Marcus, you look like an idiot since no one else can hear your internal narration) is finally revealed. As the coffin like (how fitting for my mood) door of the box opens everyone in the room nearly faints from the dramatic anticipation. This type of behaviour sometimes makes me wonder if I'm even from here as I simply cannot bring myself to share their enthusiasm about clothes and cosmetics, though this particular piece I do actually think is pretty awesome. I stand to approach the suit, a shiny black material with latex shoulder patches that end in metal spikes and I immediately recognize the source of inspiration, and the handiwork of his son, Adam.

I run my fingers down the fabric, admiring the intricate detail on the cuffs, the sides, and the collar. My inspection leads me to more studs and black latex in the most unexpectedly stylish places and I notice the colourful metallic threads interwoven with the black of the body. I have to admit, as much as I don't really like Adam, the few designs he does for his dad's little clothing shop, and my wardrobe, really do rock.

“What do you think?” Mr. Rafaelli asks in his usual serious and bitter tone, this time with a hint of anticipation.

I turn the suit and notice the design on the back, an awesome Gothic sword and metallic studs across the shoulders, and I try not to look too excited.

“Adam's design?” I ask in my most composed voice.

“Yes” he admits with a brief tilt of his head and an even darker expression, though I can sense some pride hidden behind his morose facade.

I nod a few times, still pretending to make up my mind about the outfit and he steps over hurriedly with a little box.

“I almost forgot, this is the tie that goes with it.”

“That's what I'm talking about!” I exclaim as I remove the accessory from the box, unable to hide my pleasure any longer.

The entire length is made of metal, chain links and strips, spiked and studded to perfection, with the reflective black latex covering a few of the small tiles for added dimension. The first outfit I liked in years.

“Any colour?” I ask, knowing that this year the black, white or grey with an added accent combination is really in style.

He gestures to his wife and she nervously (that's nothing out of the ordinary, for some reason she's always like that) pulls out a few shirts and holds them up against the suit. The clock signals 12:30, almost time for lunch, and I end up selecting dark grey despite what current fashion dictates. I think the colours in the thread will pop more then. Plus, maybe, I'll stand out more in the sea of glamour, and it somehow feels wrong to go with the flow.

I mindlessly point to a few other outfits to complete my day and dress for the torture I'm to face. After saying my thank you's and goodbyes I step out into the blinding hollow chrome passageway and make my way towards the dining room.