Mikey

When Mikey opened the door and saw Katerina, he let out a scream and pulled her inside. His apartment was surprisingly sparse, full of new Scandanavian furniture. Lady C stepped lithely through the doorway and raised her eyebrow to the scene of Mikey vigorously humping Kat's leg.

Kat grasped his head at either side of his ears and said into his eyes, "We're having a celebration party for my new sewing gig. We're kidnapping you to go to my house."

"Congratulations! You like my new shimmery shirt?" He disconnected from Kat and whirled around. Then he did a dance and fell back into Kat laughing. "Let me get a jacket and we can leave straight-away, sweety." He grabbed an absurdly small backpack and they were off.

Arriving at her apartment, Kat pressed her ear against the door. "I think it's safe," she declared.

"What are you doing? I thought you lived alone," Mikey asked.

"I do, but some friends of mine were fucking earlier and we didn't want to disturb them."

"It's not like they lack for the fucking," Lady C rolled her eyes. She disapproved of any activity unshielded by layers of latex or leather. "Filthy habit that it is."

"I like the way you did your hair like that, looks very forties," Mikey said to Lady Camille, "like you'd be painted on the side of a bomber."

"Thanks, dear. With your hair, you look very Byronic." She gestured around her head to indicate volume.

Katerina rolled her eyes and opened the door, "We're back! We brought drinkies and Mikey."

"You are getting so perky, it is becoming difficult to bear." Camille said as she threw down her things. She flounced down down and began to pull off her vinyl gloves.

"Blame it all on Mikey. Cause Mikey has the magic stuff," Kat said.

Mikey smiled at the couple sitting on the floor in front of the couch. "I'm, uh, Mikey." He fidgeted and pretended to be looking around the room at all the fixtures.

"Clearly," said the Count.

Juliette turned to him, "What a delightful goofball."

"My, don't we look ardent?" Lady C remarked to the Count and Juliette. "You're both positively glowing."

Mikey slung a small leather backpack off his glittery club kid t-shirt and sat down on the floor in front of the couch. He said, "This is my kit." He produced a small tin from it and took out a joint. He turned to Juliette, "Would you like some pot?"

Valcourt spoke up for her, "Oh no, Juliette doesn't smoke."

Juliette scrunched up her nose to verify. "It reminds me of past lives."

"Your last incarnation was a Rastafarian?" Mikey asked, turning his head nearly sideways.

"No, I lived in this house full of guys who were constantly stoned. We'd be sitting around, watching tv, and doing little else, when one would run into the room and say something like, 'Dudes, I just turned the toilet into a bong!' And I would roll my eyes and say, like, 'You'll still manage to spill it.'"

"And why did you live in the House of the Eternal Loser?" Camille asked.

"It might briefly have had something to do with sex." She hesitated, "But perhaps we better not go there. I don't want to spoil the Count's post-coital bliss."

"Wait, how did the interview slash proposal thing go?" asked Valcourt, ignoring Juliette's comment.

"You'll be proud to note that I got the job. I'll start next week!"

Juliette jumped up to hug Katerina. "I am very proud for our very own mad tailor of skin suits. I shall retreat to the kitchen to prepare snacks. Count, you tend the bar."

Kato walked around the room lighting candles. She placed one next to Mikey so he could see what he was doing as he toyed with his drugs. But immersed in his kit, Mikey didn't see that his large hair was getting very close to a candle flame. The Count entered and handed Katerina and Camille each a mixed drink. Camille obsessively watched Mikey's manic actions. She barked an order at him, "Mikey, move your head. Oh shit, you're on fire." Without thinking, she threw her Vodka Tonic at it, dousing the conflagration in his coiffure. "Shit, what did you put in it to make it flare up so fast?"

He was crestfallen. "Ow, those icecubes nearly put my eye out. Shit! My speed is soaked!" He clasped his wet, charred head.

"Well, considering that otherwise you'd be bald, I think you got off lucky." Camille shrugged.

Katerina grabbed Mikey's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Come. Let me fix you. I can style hair too. It's not so bad." They disappeared into the bathroom.

The Count raised his eyebrows. "Wow, I'm glad that was a mixed drink and not grain alcohol. He could have gone up like Michael Jackson. Remember that? Whoosh!" He grabbed the empty glass and stood up, "Care for another of the same?"

"Please. Do you think I was callous just then?"

"Yes, but it suits you."