Abby Gambrill & Amanda Wilkins

Aztecnologies and Acrylian Industries: two companies, both alike in net profits, both on the verge of developing the next technological revolution.

"All right where the hell are the papers for the Anderson case...? What is that supposed to mean...? Of course I wanted them today! I wanted them yesterday...! Fine, fine, all right, just.... just get them here soon.... no... NO! you bastards, I need them soon not next week! Fine tomorrow then." Julian Kobash slammed the phone back into its cradle. He swiped at a strand of dark hair that had fallen into his face and looked for a clear place on his desk to bang his fist on. Unfortunately, the desk itself was invisible under stacks of papers. Julian briefly flirted with the idea of punching a hole in the wall. He studied the plaster surface and reconsidered, after all if he broke some bone in his hand and couldn't sculpt he'd kick himself for weeks until it healed.

He sank back into his chair and sighed. Lifting his head out of his hands, he noticed his secretary hovering in the open doorway. She peered in nervously. Ana was slender and tall; her carefully sculpted blond hair fell just past her shoulders. Her oval face was bejeweled with large sparkling blue eyes that shone with expressions of eagerness and willingness to please, but not great intelligence. Julian suspected that his uncle had arranged her employment in an effort to interest his nephew in women. He sighed and waved her into the office. Ana skittered in and Julian resisted the urge to ask her how she balanced on what looked like twenty-inch heels.

He looked out the window at the darkening sky, "Ana, it must be after six. Why are you still here?"

"Oh, I'm waiting for my nail polish to dry." Ana smiled and eagerly presented him with a manila envelope.

Julian turned it over in his hands, "What's this?"

Ana's mouth fell open, she looked around and licked her lips, then smiled brightly, "Papers. For you. From the mailman." Satisfied she scampered out of the room.

"Of course," He muttered under his breath, "Silly me." Almost immediately after she left the phone made its presence known. Julian rolled his eyes when it became obvious that Ana was not going to answer the phone. The envelope was placed on a stack of precariously piled papers on the edge of his desk that had long since overflowed out of the "Inbox." He picked up the phone and spoke:

"Kobash Law Offices."

"Julian? Oh good, I was hoping you were still in. Look, dear I need you to consult our law department."

Finally recognizing his mother's voice, Julian straightened in his chair. It didn't matter if his mother could see him or not. Juliana Foley was the CEO and founder of Acrylian Industries. She built the small software business into a global power, and this multiplied by the fact that she was his mother meant that her fear-inducing, posture-straightening presence could be felt over the phone. "What? Why? What's going on?"

"Oh, Azteca is suing us... something about stealing ideas, or some crap like that. Anyway... the PR people and our lawyers need some background info and I told them you'd look it up for them; nobody knows the company history like you do."

Julian, gazing over the pile that had taken over his office, muttered into the phone. "Of course, mother."

"Okay, good. Oh gotta go! I have another call! The law office'll email you. Bye, love!"

Julian hung up the phone and stared at the computer screen and scowled. Cautiously he clicked something. It beeped and Julian snapped his hand back. Warily he reached forward again and managed to open the email program. A window asking him for his password glared back at him. Through exceedingly slow progress he was able to retrieve the email from Acrylian's law office. It asked for the case history of half a dozen high tech trials, as well as the information pertaining to the company's legal history. Julian grumbled. His mother seemed to think that because he didn't work for Acrylian he didn't have enough to do. He considered this a bad day.

Rome's day wasn't going very well either.

"Jesus fucking Christ! Who the hell do you think you are?" Adding his own resonance to the sounds of the street, Rome Azteca blinked blearily as someone pushed him up against something hard. The mystery force bound his arms behind him.

"I am an officer of the law and you are under arrest for disorderly conduct."

Rome let the ridiculously serious voice of the officer fade into the general loud buzzing that filled his ears. He tried to force his thoughts in coherent order. "Look, officer, I'm not drunk." He paused, waiting for his eyes to focus, hoping his words weren't slurred, "And I'm certainly not high."

"Uh-huh. Sure, now be a nice drunk and get in the car."

"I'm not drunk!"

Apparently, his cries had gone unheard, for when he woke up a few hours later it was in an all too familiar room. It looked like a... a cell. It was a cell. Rome sighed. His eyes itched, his ears were pounding and he had only a vague idea of what had happened last night. He stretched cautiously waiting for strained muscles or pain from old scars, and patted down his pockets more out of habit than necessity. He didn't think he'd been robbed. He summoned more memories, no sex, nothing harder than pot and alcohol, and he didn't remember anyone being shot at, altogether a pretty boring night. He waited for the buzzing in his head to clear and sat up.

"It's about time you woke up."

Rome winced internally but smiled and looked up, "Bob! Am I glad to see you!"

His family's head of public relations gave him a sarcastic smile in return.

"Can I assume whatever money needed has been paid so I can leave?"

"Yeah, it's been paid." Robert stopped, "But, uh... Rome this is the fifth time you've been picked up for being drunk and disorderly this month, it's, uh... it's gotta stop…"

"Hey, the charges were dropped last time."

"Look, Azteca took over twenty-three smaller companies this year. We've gotten a pretty mean reputation. You are the vice president of the company, you have got to be exemplary! I can't keep covering for you after these arrests. 'Sides, I got you off easy. And it wasn't cheap."

Rome's voice took on a teasing air, "Ah, Bob, you're just jealous. You think I'll meet somebody." Rome paused and smiled, "And you know my heart belongs to you."

Robert blushed and averted his eyes, he was almost certain Rome was joking. It was always that way with Rome. "I wish you wouldn't involve me in whatever twisted joke you're coming up with now. Anyway, you gotta check in three times a week and pass a drug test."

"Ahh.... ye bastards of hell. Who do I check in with?"

"Me."

"Oh, well that makes things easier. I knew you loved me Bob." Rome dismissed the earlier bit of news from his mind. "Let's go home."

"Not so fast. We have a meeting with lawyers from Acrylian. If we leave now we can be early."

"Oh yippee, let's!" Rome continued his sarcastic teasing throughout the ride to the meeting room. "Can we be early, please, Bob? I love being early. In fact, I think I'll be early to everything I don't like from now on, 'cause then I get to leave earlier. No, wait! It just means we get to stay longer! Isn't that great, Bob?"

The hotel office suite was well lit. The morning sun poured through large windows, filling the room with warm, bright sunlight. Rome sat at one end of a long oval table. He was wearing very dark glasses. The team of lawyers from Azteca that had arrived minutes after he and Bob seemed mildly displeased with his rumpled attire. Yeah, well, he thought, at least I have pants on. Besides he was here as a figurehead. Figureheads didn't need to do anything other than be there.

Down the hall in the elevator Julian Kobash was collecting himself. He assumed Acrylian would be there early which meant that as the representative of the company being sued he could arrive fashionably late with casual indifference. Julian wondered how he had gotten roped into this and tried to imagine how his mother would look if she had the time to be here and composed himself. "My Life as a Piece of Fluff That's Only Here 'Cause I'm a Kobash, Take One."

One of the lawyers looked at him, "What?"

"Nothing."

Rome looked up as the door opened. A young man, probably about his age entered first. He had an air of cool dislike and detachment. Rome who had years of experience reading people decided the detachment was feigned, but the guy honestly didn't want to be there. He stood up to shake hands. "Oh good," Rome muttered under his breath, "Not only do I have to be here, I have to be here with hostile people, and I have to pretend to like them."

Julian looked slowly around the room, the predictable group of lawyers was here, but at the head of the table was someone he didn't immediately recognize. The rumpled figure approached and lifted his sunglasses just long enough to shake hands, "Rome Azteca."

"Julian Kobash." Julian caught a glimpse of red puffy eyes on a face that somehow still managed to seem attractive before Rome let his shades drop back into place.

The two men took their places at opposite ends of the table. Their purpose served, they spent the rest of the meeting without contributing a word. The rising and falling tides of legal haggling echoed in their ears, a sort of irritating background static. Rome studied the man across the table from him. He alternately pretended to be studying papers or feigning attention to what the lawyers were saying. Rome had to smile. He amended his earlier thoughts about Julian's age by deciding that the young Kobash was at least a couple years younger than he himself was. His eyes wandered Julian's face; he sighed wishing, in a most cliched manner, that they could have met under different circumstances. He looked at his watch then glanced at the clock. Wearily he pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. When he looked up Julian looked as bored as he felt. When the lawyer caught Rome's eye, however, he smiled quite suddenly and leaned forward into the conversation. After listening for a second, he dropped a few choice words, and thus subtly directed the lawyers' conversation. He looked up triumphantly at Rome.

Rome felt the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a smile. He echoed Julian's movements, moving into the conversation and gently pushing the lawyers' discussion further toward the bottleneck Julian had created, then sat back. They continued their version of tag-team conversation redirection until the lawyers were heading for a dead end at a furious pace.

One of the Acrylian lawyers looked up from the near-chaos. "Look... Hey! Hey! Look, I don't think we're getting anywhere so why don't we go get some air, coffee and meet back here in fifteen minutes or so?" There was mumbled agreement and lawyers began to drift out of the room, leaving Julian and Rome alone. Rome grinned and strolled across the room to stand beside Julian's chair.

Julian stood, smiling slightly. "That was a, a lovely piece of verbal sabotage. Maybe you'd like to go get some coffee and discuss," he coughed, "business?"

Forgetting the slight concern he'd had for his appearance, Rome briefly wondered what he should read into that, falling into Julian's stare.

Julian smiled, visibly relaxing the VP. He almost wished he hadn't when Rome grabbed his waist and pulled him almost violently towards him. Recovering quickly from his initial fear for his life, Julian began to relax and enjoy...

Robert leaped backward, slamming the door quickly as soon as he had opened it. Julian rolled off the table with a start. When Robert cautiously and angrily slipped in the door again. Rome was fastening his belt as Julian straightened his tie.

Robert cleared his throat nervously. "Uh, Mr. Azteca?"

"Yeah, Bob?"

"We're ready to start again, Rome. Think you can keep your pants on for the rest of the meeting?"

Julian blushed. Rome dropped his gaze briefly like a puppy. "Sorry, Bob."

As the lawyers began to filter back in, Rome brushed a hand down Julian's face.

Julian looked up again when most of the babble died away. As the last voices died away, he glanced at Rome. Across the room Rome dropped his words into the pregnant silence, "You know what Bob, I don't think they're taking us seriously."

Bob gave a sharp shake of his head, "Thank you gentlemen but your offer is unacceptable, we'll see you in court." Robert led the other lawyers on his side of the table quickly and efficiently out of the room. The Acrylian lawyers soon followed, one of them taking Julian's elbow and talking in hushed tones as he walked him out of the room. Rome strode out of the room two steps behind Julian. When the lawyer patted Julian on the shoulder and walked away, Rome spun Julian around and kissed him.

Julian smiled as he gently pulled away.

"So, uh, Mr. Kobash, would you like to meet somewhere after work and uh," he shrugged, "discuss business?"

Robert interrupted abruptly, whinily snapping, "Rome! Meeting. Investors. You."

Rome glared sharply at him and he slunk away peevishly.

"Yeah. What time can you leave your office?" Julian continued.

"Uh, six, I think."

"Good. Flipnotics. Six-thirty. You." Julian's remarkably good impression of Bob made Rome smile.

"Okay," and they parted ways at the elevator.

Julian rode back to the office alone, recovering from the strain of appearing much less nervous than he had been. The lawyers had gone off to prepare typically lawyer stuff, the PR representatives had returned to the company. Julian did not envy the job of telling his mother they were going to court. He sighed. The day hadn't been all bad, however; Rome had taken quite nicely to his version of follow the leader. It was one he'd engineered for family reunions, but it work quite nicely at business meetings, plus now he had something to look forward to. And while Rome did look like he'd spent the night in a prison cell (and if any of the rumors he'd heard about him were true - he had), he would have made an exceptional artist's model. Underneath all that there was a certain grace to the way he held himself that made it seem he was used to being looked askew at. Julian sighed again, more wistfully this time, thinking of a hundred better places he could have met Rome rather than in a room full of lawyers.

The office was empty. This was not surprising to Julian as it was between the hours of eleven and three - Ana's lunch break. He could have asked her to take a shorter lunch, but he had happened to see her in the parking garage one day, and after seeing how long it took her to start her car he figured it was better let her have a long lunch. Besides, she stayed late, and he didn't really want her around all the time, except perhaps as a technical translator.

The phone had several small red lights on it that blinked angrily at him as he entered the room. He supposed this was a bad thing. Of course he'd always had trouble with anything more complicated than a flashlight, one of the reasons he hadn't gone to work for Acrylian Industries.

Rome frowned, then played with a paperclip. He spilled water on the heavily varnished table and traced his finger through it after discovering with dismay that the paperclip did not float. It was only after he had made a tiny paper boat and was floating it on the puddle that the straightlaced, though fairly tolerant investors looked up.

"Nerrrrum! Vrrrrrrom! Shhhh... pow... pow!" Rome looked up innocently, "What? It's a motor boat with a cannon." He returned to his idle amusements.

Robert took his elbow gently, "We'll be right back." Firmly, he guided Rome out of the room. In the lobby Robert turned him around violently to face him. "Why are you acting like a child? It's an embarrassment to the company."

Rome was looking over his shoulder, "Look! Bob! They have coffee!" He made a whimpering sound.

Robert frowned, "Are you listening to me at all?"

Rome let the back of his hand slid gently down Bob's face, "Of course I am, I've ears only for you... not to mention..."

Robert flinched away. "Stop that."

"Why?" Rome managed to call up a theatrical tear.

"You're giving the impression we're lovers or something. Now listen to me, We're not involved, we've never been involved, and we never will be. I'm married for god's sakes! This is no place for your games!"

Rome knitted his eyebrows together in mock despair, "Fine, be obstinate. I've found some one else anyway. Now, I'm going to go get coffee, I'll be back in a few minutes."

"No, I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson. There's not much to do at this point. Yes, that's true, but there had to be grounds for an appeal. No, there's not much I can do at this point. Good-bye, Mr. Anderson.... alright then, fuck you, too." Julian hung up the phone and glanced at the clock to see how long he had been on the phone. The clock read 6:17. "Where does my life go?" He wondered aloud, and gave the phone an accusing glare.

"Hell-lo Mr. Ko-bash!" Ana beamed from the doorway. He jumped. Suddenly he was quite glad to have the ever-immaculately dressed and groomed Ana as a secretary.

"Ana, do I need a haircut?" She walked into the office and circled him, she frowned a little, then shook her head.

"No, it's okay longish."

"What about the suit?" He was seized by a sudden urge to look decent at least.

"That, Mr. Kobash," She raised her eyebrows, "I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Fifteen minutes later she had him in a different jacket and after trying seemingly hundreds of ties, that had appeared out of nowhere, she'd picked one for him. He did have to admit he looked distinctly better.

"There, you see. That blue brings out your eyes more. You know, I always thought your people were supposed to be good at fashion."

Julian's mind went through a quick run down of all the Jewish and lawyer stereotypes he knew and came up empty. "My people?"

She dusted off his shoulder and looked at him, "You know, gay men."

"Oh. Umm... well, all blondes are supposed to be dumb, but then there's you, so I guess not all stereotypes apply."

Ana beamed. It was what she was good at.

"I've gotta run. I'll see you tomorrow."

Rome stared intently at the damp spot on the table. The only reason he was here was to make the investors feel important. "Vice-president, schmesident," he muttered to himself. Resisting an urge to yawn he looked at the clock. "Hmm... six twenty-five. I should go." He told himself to stop talking to himself. It was not until the minute hand had completed its descent and was now slowly climbing the other side of the clock face that the meeting showed any sign of stopping. Rome was out of his seat and out the door before the others had stopped shaking hands.

Pulling onto the highway he began to wonder if he should have left so quickly. Bob was going to be pissed and his father was going to be pissed. "Well... to hell with them." He studied his reflection in the rearview mirror, "You know, you shouldn't talk to yourself, it isn't healthy. I know what I need. I need fuzzy dice. If I had fuzzy dice I could talk to them and not to myself. That would work. But then again there's only so much you can do with fuzzy dice... But you see," he held up a finger, still addressing the mirror, "with a person, you never know if they're really listening... dice would always listen. I guess."

The clock on the wall told him he was late. Rome had decided long ago that instead of hours on the clock-face they should have early, on time, and late: that would make things simpler. He spotted Julian at a table towards the back. He was poking at a laptop. Rome slid into the seat across from him. After a minute of watching Julian type using one finger he stopped trying to suppress his laughter.

Julian looked up, indignant, "What?"

Rome shook his head and shrugged, "It's just, well, you coming from Acrylian and being so... inept at typing..." he shrugged.

Julian broke into a smile and sat back, "You should see me try to post a web page."

Rome opened his mouth to say something but he was diverted by the approach of a waiter. Rome looked up pleadingly, "Coffee?" The waiter opened his mouth, but Rome cut him off. "Just... just coffee." He made shooing motions with his hands and the waiter reluctantly backed away.

Rome smiled triumphantly, "Coffee. Oh, I hope I didn't keep you waiting long; the meeting ran over."

Julian looked up and smiled reassuringly. "No, I haven't been here that long. I couldn't get away either."

They stared at each other contentedly for several seconds. Rome cocked his head to one side and smiled, "Coffee-colored eyes."

Julian frowned, "Um, thanks."

"No, no, it's a compliment, you have beautiful eyes."

Julian flushed, smiling. "Thanks, Rome. So've you. But uh, I dunno, it's just that they're blue."

Much to Julian's surprise, Rome just sighed. He sat back and looked around, "Tell me, what color is this shirt?"

"It's purple."

Rome sighed again and rolled his eyes, "No chance it's yellow?"

"Uh-uh."

"Damn, oh well."

"What?"

Rome waved his hand dismissivly, "Nothing. It'll wear off eventually. The compliment stands." He laughed softly. "So how was your day?"

Julian tilted his head downward, a look of confusion on his face. "Hmm... Mostly pretty dull. It did, however, have its highlights."

Half of Rome's mouth quirked up into a smile, "Highlights?" He almost managed an innocent tone.

The waiter then arrived with Rome's coffee and a double shot of espresso for Julian.

"Coffee!"

Julian raised his glass a few inches above the surface of the table in a salute. "Beverage of caffeine addicted gods."

Rome half-drained his cup and clinked it against the wood. "Coffee," he said with satisfaction.

Julian smiled back at him, then suddenly sat straight up, flattening his hands on the tabletop. "Ah, bloody hell!" he muttered, staring at his watch. "I have to meet my art dealer at 7:30."

Rome made a face that had many times convinced people with harder hearts to do things for him. "You have to go?"

Julian threw his head back, swallowing the espresso quickly, like a college student playing 'Hi, Bob.'

Rome flinched.

Julian winced slightly. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Rome. Can I see you again sometime?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. Say, Friday... seven?"

"Alright."

"Good. I'll come with you to your car. What's your art?" he asked as they left.

"Sculpture. Bronze and marble mostly," Julian answered, nervously glancing again at his watch.

"Like Rodin?"

"Yes! Love Rodin!" Julian was fidgeting enthusiastically.

"Maybe you'll show me sometime," Rome suggested, still relatively placid.

"Of course." Julian smiled, fumbling with his keys.

Rome leaned against the car taking the opportunity to study Julian. He smiled.

"I'll see you Friday." Julian paused briefly. "'Bye, Rome."

"Yeah. 'Bye." Watching Julian go, he already felt lonely. And he thought that was odd because he had never felt particularly lonely before. "I wouldn't be lonely if it was a pair of fuzzy dice that left." He smiled again, shaking his head appreciatively, "Julian is not a pair of fuzzy dice."

Julian watched Rome watching him until he decided he'd better watch the road, and suddenly the word chemistry sprang to mind. He shuddered and glared at his watch again. "Damn," he hissed under his breath. It was 7:25. "Just wait a minute, Pierre."

At 7:42 he dashed to the stairs, swinging round the handrail as he turned. A tall, dark-haired man turned to look at him as he stumbled out the door at the third floor. As Julian darted to his apartment door, Pierre smiled, arms folded on his chest. "I'm really sorry, Pierre," Julian gasped, hurriedly unlocking his door. "I had a... a meeting."

"Uh-huh. Sure, Jules, right," he answered teasingly. Julian started to interject, but the art dealer continued. "Your secretary told me about your so-called meeting. So... you get me a glass of whatever wine you have, and I'll forgive your tardiness. Okay?" he confirmed, stepping through the open door with a flourish. Pierre was English with the mannerisms of a stereotypical Frenchman.

Julian nodded, breathless. He closed the door, offering Pierre a chair. Pouring him a glass of Chianti, he began to compose himself.

Peering around with great distaste at his surroundings Pierre called to him from ten feet away, "Julian, why don't you get a nice apartment with all your money. Anything's better than this."

He stood up straight, frowning. "Well... I like it, Pete. It's a great studio. 'Sides, it's easier on Claire." In response to Pierre's apparent confusion, he added, "You know Claire, my roommate." Pierre shrugged, and Julian brought him his wine. Suddenly a soft scratching sound reminded him to free Bradley from his protective lodgings. "Oh my god! Poor baby!" He leaped across the room to open the bathroom door. Pierre recoiled slightly as a four-foot-long, bright green iguana ambled into the room, glancing resentfully at his pet human. Julian gave the lizard an apologetic shrug.

Pierre watched the young artist's antics for a minute, "You know, Jules, I can always tell when you've had too much espresso." He then waved his hand dissmissivly, "So, Jules... it's been a few weeks. What've you got for me?"

Julian coughed hesitantly. "Well, ya know, it's been really busy at work... Azteca's suing Acrylian, and, uh... I have two new pieces."

Pierre lifted the hand flippantly, saying, "Let's see them."

Julian led him into his "studio," what would have served as a bedroom if there had been anywhere else for him to keep his finished sculptures. He pointed to the back left corner of the room where a large slab of marble and two figures stood on a marble pedestal and the floor beside it respectively. "Umm..." Pierre began, "What is that?"

The artist followed the dealer's finger to the two-foot long sculpture on the right. "It's a marble paper airplane, Pete. Like it?"

Pierre paced back and forth in front of it, leaning his head from side to side, staring confusedly at it. "Yeah, deep. It's genius, Jules."

Julian smiled brightly, though a bit confused by the depth of his work. "Thanks."

"And that," Pierre added, gazing admiringly at the work on the left, "is beautiful. Reminiscent of 'The Cathedral.'" He knew his client would like that.

"Really? Thank you." Julian's eyes widened at the compliment.

Cast in bronze were three gracefully sculpted masculine hands. One left hand gently supported another as in a wedding as the ring was placed.

"Baptists everywhere will attempt to burn your works. It should be quite amusing."

Julian grinned wickedly. "Good."

Rome sighed and fumbled the key into the lock, only to fall inward as the door revealed itself as open. He regained his balance and shut the door. The TV was on across the room. He frowned and approached the couch. "Mark?"

A form on the couch sat up, shedding blankets and food wrappers. Mark rubbed his eyes and smiled. He blinked lazily and swept an armload of laundry, disposable food containers, and dishes off the couch, clearing a spot for Rome. Rome sat down cautiously, turned to look at Mark, then sat back and watched the television.

"Hey."

"Hey." Neither took their eyes off the screen.

Rome yawned, "So, whatcha doing here?"

"My place is freezing."

"Still sick?"

Mark nodded and made a face.

Rome got up and began to walk to the bedroom. He stopped before turning the knob and turned to face Mark, "Am I going to find some waif in my bed?"

Mark smiled.

Rome opened the door and peered inside, "Christ man, I dunno 'bout you. What do you see in that type? Completely fucking androgynous." He held out his hands like a scale and chanted in a sing song voice, "Is that a girl? Or is it a guy? Is it both? Is it neither? Is that possible?"

Mark shrugged.

"Pah. This place is filthy. I need to clean." A minute of half-hearted cleaning passed before Rome collapsed back into the couch. "What do you think of blue?"

"For what?"

Rome ran his fingers through his hair, "This stuff. I'm thinking blue, 'cause you know, who would want a guy with blue hair to sit in on a business meeting."

"Blue's great." Mark lit up suddenly and pulled the laptop on the table closer to him. He gulped down of swig of something in a bottle, "Take a look at this. It's relatively bug free now."

Rome turned the screen to face him. Mark did free-lance work for Azteca sometimes. Rome scrolled through the program. "This is good."

Mark frowned, "Good? You must really be distracted by something." He smiled and took on a teasing air. "Rome's got a... a life partner!" It had the air of an old, much repeated joke.

"Ha. Life partner, what an absurd term. The day I get a life partner is..." he paused, "the day Azteca joins forces with Acrylian. By the way is your shirt green?"

"Yeah. I guess those eye drops wore off?"

A sleepy, pale, blond-haired youth appeared in the doorway. Rome turned to look at it. "Coffee?" He offered.

The pale figure shook it's head, yawned, waved to Mark and drifted towards the door. After it was gone Rome laughed, "Child molester."

"Oh please, college student."

"But you honestly don't know?"

"The gender? Oh, I did at one point I just don't remember now."

"Ah." Rome looked around, "Where's Kat?"

"Uh... your bathroom I think, I haven't seen her."

Rome wandered into his bedroom. "Kat?" He followed the cat sounds into the bathroom.

"Kat, why do you sleep in the sink? It can't be healthy."

The large white cat just looked up at him and began to purr. Rome smiled, "Alright, fine, but you're gonna have to move. I have to dye my hair now." He pulled dye out of the medicine cabinet. He almost wondered why he had it, but figured he must've been stoned or something when he bought it. He picked the cat up and set her on the ground. Kat promptly jumped back onto the counter and sat down. "Fine, watch, see if I care, but don't blame me if you turn blue too."

Kat watched attentively while he turned his hair a bright blue. Rome turned away to find a towel. Kat stepped cautiously into the sink, reclaiming her original position. She recoiled quickly when her front paws found wetness.

Rome sighed. "Oh, great. Now you're going to be blue too. You just can't let me do anything original, can you?" He smiled, "You're going to look awfully silly, you realize. You might as well dye the back feet too."

Kat looked at him. He went over to the cat and gently set her in the sink. The cat glared up at him.

"There, see? Much better. Just promise you won't call PETA on me." He delicately toweled off Kat's feet. "Hey, look, you've got some spots now too. Kat looked at him. He looked at Kat. Kat jumped down and padded towards the kitchen, leaving small blue stains on the carpet. Rome shrugged and followed the cat out of the room.

Mark looked up, "I thought you were going to dye your hair, not your cat." Rome smiled and pulled the towel off his head. Mark raised an eyebrow, "So... you're both blue?"

"Guess so. Didn't you say you were going out of town today?"

"That was Wednesday."

"Isn't today Wednesday?" Rome glanced up sharply.

Mark shook his head, "Thursday."

"What happened to Wednesday?"

Mark shrugged and sneezed. Rome walked over and touched his forehead. "You still have a fever." He kissed his forehead softly. Mark closed his eyes and reached up to pat Rome on the shoulder.

Mark smiled, keeping his eyes closed, "When was the last time we..."

Rome looked thoughtful, "Uh.... college."

Mark touched his face, "Why'd we stop?"

Rome smiled broadly and stood up, "Cause I no longer am a semi-albino weighing eighty pounds."

Mark nodded passively, "So, what's so important about Thursday?"

"Not Thursday, Friday."

"What's so important about...." he trailed off at the look on Rome's face. "Never mind. I'll make sure to clear out by then."

Rome smiled. "You do that."

Julian shook his head, "Uh-uh. No. There's no way in hell."

"Oh, come on, Julian, I've just taught you how to use speakerphone, online conferencing is not that much more difficult."

Julian stared at the telephone. It seemed vaguely wrong to be talking to the phone without holding it. "Listen, Claire, much as you're a good friend, I don't think I'm up for this now."

"If you don't learn it now, when are you going to? You can't put it off forever. You're not a very responsible beast."

"I'll… I'll do it Friday. I'm meeting a technically proficient person on Friday. I'll get him to show me."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Julian could see Claire squinting at him through the phone. "You're not going to tell me any more are you?"

"No, probably not."

"Fine, but at least tell me who. Ahh, c'mon tell."

Julian sighed, "Rome Azteca."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Uh... huh. I thought you and him were supposed to be, like, sworn enemies or something."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"What does it mean when the green light is blinking?"

Claire sighed. "It means, quite simply, you have another call. Which is fine since I gotta go anyway. I have a date with Lila."

"Weren't you and... Phillip, like, something?"

Claire laughed. "Oh, he got all male."

"Oh. Okay."

"See ya around, Jules."

"Yeah." Julian hit the button next to the light and listened for a few minutes. "Mother... please... I, I just can't today." Julian twisted the phone cord nervously between his fingers and glanced unconsciously out the window, half expecting to see her floating mid-air. "No... please, I already agreed to do the background research on the cases for your lawyers, but I just don't have time to spend going over it with them all day. Alright, bye." Julian looked out the open doorway, seeing Ana he called her in, "Ana, could you come in here for a second?"

She appeared in the doorway, "Mr. Kobash, is that you?"

"No, Ana, it's god."

Ana gave him a blank look.

"Look, I need to know what I have to do this week."

Ana smiled, "Next Monday you have meetings with the attorneys from the Jameston and Carton cases. Sunday you have brunch with Pierre Harshaw, Saturday you're supposed to meet with the Acrylian vs. Azteca people," She paused and took a breath, "Oh, and," she smiled slyly, "Your date with Rome is tonight."

Julian looked at her, flushed and looked at his feet. "Then... today is Friday?"

Ana nodded.

"What happened to..."

"Thursday? Meetings mostly."

"Oh."

"Alright... um, how did you...." He trailed off as Ana had already left the room.

"Rome! What the bloody hell is wrong with your hair?!" Jorge Azteca, president of the Azteca Empire, bellowed from the doorway of his son's office.

"Wha…"

His father burst into the room, resembling a hurricane more than a human. "Your hair! It's blue!" He came to a halt just in front of Rome's desk. "How do you ever expect to be taken seriously with blue hair?"

Rome's mouth opened, then closed. He'd had a thousand intelligent comebacks lined up, unfortunately they all deserted him the moment his father entered the room.

Jorge threw his hands up in a mocking gesture. "Fine. Pull off whatever stupid, childish tricks you want to, but keep it out of the workplace. I don't want any of this foolishness, or any another of your disgusting habits here or anywhere I'll see them." His father stormed out.

Rome forcibly relaxed his hands, which had balled into fists under the table. He sighed and lowered his head till it touched the top of his desk. "That went well." He raised his head at a knock on the door. Robert shuffled into the room, ashen-faced. Robert usually got the brunt of Jorge's wrath when Rome did something to incur it. He came in and sat down cautiously.

"Hey Bob."

"Hey."

"He yelled at you too then?"

"Yeah. You know now probably wasn't a good time to dye you hair." Bob looked at him. "But you knew that."

"Yeah." Rome still hadn't taken his head off the desk.

"So then… why?"

"Cause I'm tired of not doing anything but being a figurehead.

"A figurehead?"

Rome raised his head to face him, "Yeah. A figurehead."

Bob coughed. "You uh… feel like being tested for drug use?"

Rome set his jaw and glared at him. "No." He looked at the clock and smiled, "I have somewhere to be."

The coffeehouse was somewhere between garish and charming. A light rain was falling when Julian pulled the door open and stepped inside. He shivered a little shedding water that had condensed on his coat. Slinking along the wall through the diverse crowd of men and women he made his way towards the back. He found a small empty table by the wall and sat down to wait for Rome.

After a few moments of watching the unimportant people doing nothing of importance to him, he saw Rome pushing his way through the crowd. Suddenly the horrifyingly crowded café seemed like a good place to be. He smiled noticing Rome's hair. Azteca dropped into the chair opposite him. "Hi," Julian said.

"Hi."

A little waitress dressed entirely in black including black lipstick, eyeliner, and hair appeared beside the table.

"Hi. I'm Sunny. What can I get you bastards?" she inquired in a weary voice.

Rome and Julian exchanged pithy glances. Rome smiled, then adopted an enthusiasm far exceeding that of any normal person not high on amphetamines. "What'll you have, Julian? Double espresso?"

"Great. Thanks."

Rome smiled at the waitress. "Double espresso for that bastard and a house coffee for me, Sunny."

"I care," she muttered, writing on a notepad. "Just a minute." She walked away again.

"How are you?" Julian asked.

"Okay. You?"

"Good."

There was a lengthy silence during which they alternated staring around the café and staring at each other.

"Ya know..." Rome said after a while, "my cat's blue now too."

Julian looked confused, was about to inquire further when Sunny materialized at the table. "Double espresso," she said curtly placing a glass in front of Julian. "House coffee here." She slid the cup to Rome even though it would have been easier to just set it down in front of him. Rome looked up at her.

"Thank you," he said, altogether too sincerely.

"Go to hell," she answered, stalking off quickly.

"Rome," Julian said, watching Sunny writing an order on her notepad, "I'm not sure she likes you."

Rome grinned in amusement. "Hmm... sure she does." Rome leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You see, she pretends to hate me. But we're really quite fond of each other."

Julian glanced at the waitress who was staring at Rome as if she was planning to rip his throat out. "Right." And sipped his espresso.

Rome set down his fourth cup. "So my great-great-grandfather started this farm-equipment company, my grandfather shifted the company focus to laying ground cables and telephone hard-wiring, and make, like, a whole shit-load more of money, but it wasn't until my father took over that Azteca really started working in software."

Julian frowned, "Yeah, my mother wanted me to work for Acrylian, but I never really, uh, wanted to... She built the whole company, ya know."

"Yeah."

"I think it was," he trailed off, tracing a pattern in some sugar on the table, "a way for her to prove to everyone that she didn't need my father after he left." Julian shrugged.

Rome bit his lip and looked up from his coffee. "My mother died when I was five. Dad was always busy with the company, so Bob looked after me. He had hair back then. S'okay though, my family's just a bunch of assholes anyway."

"See, now I couldn't say something like that."

"Why not?"

"I dunno. Just, you know, I always had to be the perfect son, for my mother."

Sunny approached the table, bearing a pot of coffee. "More beverage for you, bastards twelve and thirteen?"

Julian looked at Rome who shook his head. "Nah, thanks."

"That's alright, bastard. That's just fine." The waitress spoke almost too quickly to be understood, trembling with rage. Julian and Rome exchanged frightened looks. "I haul a giant pot of coffee over here for the enjoyment of you, the paying bastards, and you don't even have the courtesy to partake of my caffeine, thus relieving me of a little extra burden in this cold and hopeless coffee house."

Rome handed her a ten-dollar bill and she produced his change immediately. "'Scuse me. Come back soon," she mumbled irritably, "Own the place, but don't work there," she appeared to address the table before shuffling away. Rome tried to take another sip of coffee only to find it had grown cold. He looked across the table to Julian. Julian opened his mouth to say something.

"Wait." Rome hushed his companion and cocked his head to listen. "Rain!" He jumped up and slid his chair back quickly, grabbing Julian's hand and pulling him with him. They walked quickly to the door of the coffeehouse and opened it. It was pouring. Rome paused in the doorway, smiling. Julian slipped out from behind him. Rome twisted around, trying to get out of the way, "Sorry."

Julian put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay." He said, turning quickly to stand beside him. Rome jumped sideways out from under the overhang, then commenced dancing about and frolicking in the rain. Julian stepped calmly into the downpour, smiling as he watched the VP of Aztecnologies spinning joyously in the middle of the sidewalk. A combination of heavy rain and speeding vehicles left them both soaked in a matter of seconds. Hair plastered to his face, Julian looked up at the sky and saw that the clouds completely covered the stars. A raindrop landed directly in his eye. He blinked, and suddenly the world blurred, he considered panicking for a second before realizing that the rain had washed his contact lens onto the ground. He growled as he closed one eye, then the other, looked at Rome. He gave up and went back to watching Rome. Rome took both Julian's hands in his, smiling adoringly. "Dance with me, Kobash," he said happily.

Julian briefly considered curling up in a ball on the sidewalk. He returned the smile timidly. "Sorry, Rome, I don't dance."

Rome frowned like a disappointed child, "Not even a waltz?"

Julian stared at him torn between laughter and disbelief, "You waltz?"

Rome glared at him. "Five years of ballroom dancing lessons. Nothing but the best for an Azteca child." He shrugged, "Warped my psyche for all time. It was however, an all-boys school." Rome grinned mischievously, "So it wasn't all bad." Rome sighed then broke into his original smiling countenance "Okay."

A Pepsi truck skidded around the corner and zoomed down the street, showering water over the two. Rome wiped water from his brow and shook his head violently, spraying water everywhere within a five-foot radius. Julian glared at him. Rome looked at him sheepishly, "Sorry." Julian smiled and moved closer to him, while ringing out his sleeves. Rome smiled shyly, "Uh, my apartment's just half a couple blocks from here, I could get you some dry things, or if you don't..." He trailed off, admiring the way Julian's shirt clung in the rain.

"No, no, that sounds good." Julian trailed off softly and smiled warmly, lifting his hand in a gesture inviting Rome to lead the way. "Let's go."

Rome smiled, cocked his head, took Julian's hand firmly in his own, fingers intertwined and stepped off the curb. They walked in silence for the half-block. Julian followed Rome into his apartment. He stood in the living room, trying not to drip while Rome fetched him some dry clothes. Kat followed her pet person out of the bedroom, glancing suspiciously at Julian.

"Blue cat," he said smiling. Rome looked at Kat. Kat glared at Rome. "Kat," he said picking her up with his free arm. She hung over his arm like a sock full of rice. "Dry clothes," Rome said, handing them to Julian. "Maybe they'll fit."

"They'll do 'til my clothes dry," he assured him, taking them gratefully.

"Then you'll stay?" Rome looked pleadingly at him.

"Yeah. Sure."

"Good."

After changing, Julian's eyes wandered over the room as he sat on the couch waiting for Rome to change. Tucked into the corner in a tangle of wiring was a large desk, buried under computers. He sat up suddenly, "Hey, Rome?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you teach me to use online conferencing?"

Rome walked out of his room and stared at him blankly for a second. "I suppose," he answered cautiously.

Julian smiled.

Fifteen minutes later, Rome paused to think of a new way to phrase the explanation. Small pictures scrawled on a tiny pad of paper seemed to help. He sighed. "So look, if you just get into your account, and set your preferences then it's a lot simpler."

Julian stood up and dug a small slip of brightly colored paper out of his wallet. He tossed it to Rome. "Login name and password."

Rome shrugged and took the paper.

Much later, Rome looked outside at the darkness. "Up for a movie?"

"Okay. What?"

"Uh..." He surveyed the meager collection suspiciously. He remembered having more than this. He looked pointedly at Kat. "Kiss of the Spider Woman?" he suggested at last.

"Alright."

Rome started the DVD thinking that Julian probably would have agreed to anything he had said and settled back on the couch, nonchalantly putting his arm around Julian's shoulders. Julian leaned back, fitting naturally into the casual embrace. He did not object, but he could have sworn the cat sighed. Kat fled as the music began.

"Not the sink!" Rome called to her, yawning. She made no reply.

"I don't believe your cat's overly fond of me."

"Can cats be overly fond of anyone?" Rome contemplated silently for a second. "Nah… just that when I come home alone I have more time to let her shed on me." Rome let the discussion fade as the movie began.

Throughout the movie, a series of position changes, increasingly relaxed and close, found Julian lying on the couch next to Rome, his head on his chest. Julian mumbled something incomprehensible into Rome's shirt.

"What?"

Rome felt the smile through the fabric more than saw it. Julian rolled over, stretching a little, "I think I may fall asleep."

"Don't worry, I'll wake you up for the good part." Rome's breathing was slow as he stroked Julian's hair away from his face. He muted the sound. The resonance of the street drifted into the apartment very faintly, the only sound other than the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Julian fell asleep listening to Rome's heartbeat. When the film ended, the system shut itself down, and the room was immersed in total darkness.

Rome studied the man lying partially on, partially next to him. "You stupid fucking bastard." There was no response except for slow even breathing. Rome sighed, "Just when I find a lifestyle that not only pleases me, but scares the shit out of my father, just when I've come to terms with my own emotional shallowness, and am having a great time doing it, just when I've got all my ducks in a row you come upsetting the balance. You know what you did?" Rome leaned forward a little so that his mouth was just above Julian's ear letting his voice drop to a whisper, "Huh? Do you have any idea what you've done? I'll tell you what it was. You fell asleep. It was that simple, amado. Dormiste en mis brazos y te enamoré. You fell asleep and I fell… well, let's just say you've ruined my emotional shallowness."

Rome shifted his position and Julian stirred slightly. He pulled himself partially upright and studied the dark screen. "Hey… the movie's over."

"I told you I'd wake you up for the good part."

"Mm… cold popcorn?"

"Well… if that's what you had in mind."

Julian smiled. Rome hit him with a pillow. Julian let his jaw drop in mock amazement and contrived pain.

Rome dropped the pillow and kissed him. It was a long moment before he moved away again. Rome waited until Julian's eyes were focused on his, "Stay?" Julian noted the almost imperceivable shade to the question that tinted it with more seriousness than just tonight, but if the thought bothered him he didn't show, he nodded once firmly. Julian smiled and pulled him close again.

Some mornings later, Rome rubbed his eyes and tried to sink into the chair in his Azteca office. He was thwarted, however, by the broken stub of pencil stabbing him. Cursing, he dug the pencil and a wad of small bits of paper out of his pocket and tossed them onto the desk.

"Rome!" Mark flew into Rome's office, eyes wide, hair mussed, looking like he'd slept in his clothing though clearly he had not slept in several hours. Rome looked up and watched his friend sweep around his desk. "Rome!" he coughed, desperation in his voice. He seemed to have developed bronchitis. "Those bastards! Those Acrylian bastards! Look... look!" He fumbled with Rome's PC, attacking the disk drive, and violently operating the mouse. Rome flinched as his Minesweeper game was lost. Mark thwacked the screen with the back of his hand. "Ouch! Look, that is my program!"

Rome looked. His eyebrow began to twitch as he read the description of a special prerelease of a new Acyrilian program. "God damn it," he enunciated perfectly.

"See!" Mark paced the room increasingly angered mutterings growing into the shouting of a long torrent of colorful phrases as Rome stared at the screen. Slowly, a smile crept over his face, he closed his hand around a small piece of brightly colored paper on his desk and chuckled sadistically. Mark stopped, turning to glare in his direction. "What?"

"Mark, honey," he said pleasantly, "I'll take care of it. Your program goes on the market on Thursday all decked out in pretty little boxes with your name all over them. Money for us, money for you. Hey, you can even buy Juliana Foley a beverage with it! Just to show your forgiveness."

Mark's anger waned as Rome's jubilance rose. "Umm..."

Rome ignored his doubting noises and focused on the screen.

And then, thousands of interconnected Acrylian systems across the nation came to a most sudden halt.

"Julian!" the speakerphone screeched. He whimpered trying to find how to lower the volume. "Julian, someone hacked our system!"

"Er..."

"They… they made everything stop! Everything's down, nothing's working! What the hell are we gonna do about it?"

"Um, I dunno, Mom, but, uh... why are you calling me?"

"Goddamnit, Julian, you're our lawyer."

"Your pet attorney?"

"Acrylian Industries' lawyer."

"Uh... I don't think..."

"What are you talking about? Get down here, now."

Julian entered the conference room expecting to have to duck a flying object at any second.

"Oh Julian, no need to cower, no one's throwing anything."

Julian looked at his mother cautiously. She was smiling widely. The last time he'd seen his mother this happy was when she found out their major competitor in Japan's factory had been completely crushed in an earthquake. Julian tried not to look frightened.

Juliana Foley motioned to one of the other lawyers present to explain. He was also smiling.

"You see, this… 'interloper' not only, um… 'crashed the system', but after that proceeded to 'mess' with some very… 'key files' dealing with financing and… new 'product plans'."

Julian looked at his mother, "And this is a, 'good' thing?"

Ms. Foley smiled, "Please continue Johnson."

The lawyer smiled, "We have good reason to believe that the, 'interloper' aforementioned is employed by one of our competitors. Which means when we find out who it was, and we will, we get to press charges of industrial espionage, among other things. And not only does our poor, sad interloper go to jail for a long time… we sue the company behind him for every dime they have and will ever make." He beamed. Julian glanced at his mother.

"Maybe I'll just go home then. It doesn't look like you need me."

Julian walked through the door to his apartment and announced, "Life sucks."

Claire concurred, from the look of the scene she was painting and her smudged mascara, rather strongly.

Julian studied the less than cheerful tableau and brought out several bottles of wine.

"So." Julian started.

"Yeah."

"Life sucks."

"A lot."

"Hard."

"Evilly."

"Consistently."

"Thoroughly."

"Uninhibitedly."

"Drastically."'

"Alcoholic beverage?"

"Please."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." Her voice was strained.

"Okay."

The wine disappeared between them, until the alcohol had loosened Claire's tongue, "That goddamnfuckingbitch!"

"Which?"

"Exactly!"

"What happ'ned?"

The woman sitting next to him glanced at him, and ground her teeth. She was gesturing at the air as if holding a paintbrush, the artist in her intent on expressing her feeling the only way she knew how. Claire gathered her thoughts, "I... Lila... She's a bitch. And a liar. And I don't like her none." It was a half-hearted attempt, without paint it was all she could do.

"Ah."

"So?"

"What?"

"Aren't you gonna give me some of that patented, holistic Kobash advice? The kind I've been getting for years."

"Hmm... date someone else."

"Huh." She began to roll a joint. "First things first."

"Outside!" He pointed to the balcony door.

Claire scowled but complied.

Dan Rather's voice was spilling over the airways by the time she reappeared, wiping tears from her face. "...searching the electronic records for histories of criminal activity. Updates will be released as information is uncovered. In Northern Iraq today...." Julian turned off the television, staring in disbelief at the blank screen.

"I'm going out clubbing tonight," Claire announced triumphantly. Julian continued to stare forward. "What's that about?" she asked casually.

Julian stared for a moment longer, then looked at her. He shook his head. "Prolly nothing," he said. "Yeah," he said, reassuring himself, "Tout sera bien."

"Okay," Claire said quietly. She looked at her watch. "Well, I'm going."

"Okay," Julian said absently. "Be careful, Hon," he added with a bit more cognizance.

"Thanks."

Julian listened to her footsteps until she reached the stairs. Then he called Rome.

Claire closed the door quietly as she came into the apartment. Julian did not look up from the block of clay he was absorbed in shaping. The news had continued to carry updates on breaking Azteca-Acrylian connections in the hacking story, but he hadn't been able to get a hold of Rome.

"Hey, Claire," he said indifferently.

"Hey, Jules." She dropped her bag on the floor and kicked off her sandals as she walked across the flat to a canvas on the wall. She paused only a second before squeezing some paint onto a pallet and reaching for a brush. The jar that usually held her brushes was empty. Her chest constricted as she began to search the folds in the drop cloth for a fallen brush; the world blurred as tears clouded her eyes and she slammed her fist against the canvas in frustration. She glanced up to see if Julian had noticed anything, but he was staring intently at the emerging form of a man in the clay. Claire lifted her hand off the white spread of the canvas, touched it to the pigment and calmly with wide, sweeping gestures began to paint. But the paint on her fingers didn't last long. The thick, smooth lines of color faded giving way to the rough white surface of the canvas.

With sudden fury Claire emptied the tubes and jars of paint into puddles at her feet, drenching her hands in several colors at once she began to move the color over the fabric. She painted the back of Julian's head and the music she had danced to that night and the street she had lived on growing up. She painted candle flame and lighter flame and buildings going up in flame. She painted black for all her friends who'd died, for her mother months ago, going all the way back to the death of her father and her dog, a hundred lifetimes ago, both of whom had been riding in a pickup going just a shade too fast. Reaching for more color she painted heroin and wine and the fuchsia pants the receptionist at the rehab clinic had worn the first time she was there. She added blue for failure when she painted the bilingual secretary they had there the second time she arrived and red for the third time when she almost died and had promised Jules that it would be the last. Her mind skittered to a stop there, tired of the circles it was running in. Claire ran a paint-covered hand through her hair, noting that it had grown warm in her hands. She slipped in a puddle of paint and went down hard on one knee. It hurt. It hurt enough to make her breath catch in her throat and stop her tears even though she didn't remember when she had started crying. She put her hand down to steady herself and came up with a brush, tucked into the folds of cloth.

She stood and began to paint again, her brushstrokes becoming more and more frenzied, the brush held like a weapon.

Julian looked up when the brush flew across the room and bounced off the wall clattering to the ground. "Claire?" he ventured carefully. He turned to see her storming towards him, mascara smeared, hair disheveled, dress torn and bloody. "Jesus!" he gasped, standing quickly.

Claire glared past him and snatched his glass of Junot from the barstool beside him. She raised the glass to him in a toast and stalked back to the canvas. Julian stared at the area where she painted, the cloth protecting the ground was bunched and soaked with paint, color ran over the edges spilling onto the wood floor in a thousand different places and shades. The canvas though, was almost solid, filled with the brown color resulting when too many colors mixed. "It was all here, Julian. Now it's all messed up, and it didn't even have the decency to come out a nice color." She hadn't taken her eyes off the canvas, with a swift motion she drained the glass and crushed it in her hand.

Julian was moving slowly towards her, "Claire?" When the soft query didn't get a response he tried again, "Claire!" Julian cried desperately. "What are you…" He reached toward her, but pulled back as she slashed at him with the broken stem. "Claire, please… No!"

Blood streamed from the gash in her throat as she dropped the remnants of the glass to the floor. Julian ran across the three feet between them and grabbed her arms, staring in horror into her ashen face. The expression of misery drained from her as the crimson pool at her feet spread. Julian had no idea what to do. A tourniquet was out of the question. The first idea that came to mind was to call an ambulance, but as he started to let go of her to get the phone, she reached feebly towards him, shaking her head. He paused, detecting fear in her eyes for the first time since he'd known her. "Claire…"

She hushed him weakly, "S'alright, Jules. It's just paint, see? It'll wash off." She traced her fingers through the blood on her chest before her head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Tears streaked his face as he pulled her tightly to him. He began to shake violently as his roommate since college went limp in his arms.

He dragged her to the couch and laid her down softly, running to the phone. The 911 operator's voice held little hope. As he hung up the phone, he shuddered. The blood soaking his shirt was turning cold.

"The on-going investigation into the computerized attack on Acrylian Systems has reached a turning point today as authorities announced that they are narrowing their search to employees of Acrylian's arch-rival, Aztecnologies…"

Rome switched the evening news off with a grimace. He glanced towards the door to see if either Julian or Mark had been paying any attention, and with relief noted they were still moving the last boxes of Julian's things out of the elevator and into Rome's apartment.

After setting the last box on the counter Julian crossed the room and slumped wordlessly into a chair.

Rome followed him with his eyes. Mark's coughing fit tore his attention away. "You okay, Mark?"

"…yeah. Yeah. Fine. Just tired." He looked around. "It looks like you got everything under control. I think I'm gonna take off." He smiled weakly.

"Yeah. Okay."

"Bye."

"G'bye."

As Mark left Julian pushed himself out of the chair with more energy than he'd shown all evening. Rome followed him into the kitchen.

Julian was digging through the cabinets, "You've gotta have something to drink around here. Where do you keep it?"

After a moment of hesitation Rome moved towards him, "Julian…"

The younger man turned to face him with a wide-eyed look of exasperation, "What?"

Rome smothered the hurt and tried to swallow, "Nothing. Sorry. What do you want?"

"Jesus, Rome, I don't care!"

Scared by the sudden anger Rome tried to touch his face.

Julian flinched away. "You can fuck me later, right now all I want to do is get heavily drunk. Where did you say the alcohol lived?" After only continued silence from Rome Julian looked at him, "I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I wouldn't…"

"I know! Okay? And I'm sorry… I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Julian slumped to the ground rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand, "I'm so sorry… Rome… Claire… she…"

Rome sat on the floor next to him. After a moment he put his arm around Julian's shoulders. "D'you want some... some wine?"

Julian put his head to his knees, breathing deeply. "Sure. Thanks, Rome."

Rome got up and began fishing for a corkscrew in a cluttered drawer. Julian remained curled tightly in a ball against the wall. As he brought him his wine, Rome brushed Julian's hair away from his face gently. Julian looked up, his eyes wet and bloodshot. "It is Junot you like, isn't it?"

Julian let his head fall onto Rome's shoulder, sobbing miserably.

Rome held him quietly, not knowing what else to do.

Mark resisted the urge to loosen the collar on his shirt. It felt too tight, and scratchy against a throat that was used to t-shirts. Unlike certain privileged people, he had to dress up when he went to see his boss.

"Mark," Azteca said, calmly, rationally, as if he were speaking to a long-time, if excitable friend, "I know you must feel as if your project was snatched out from under your nose."

"Sir?" Mark looked questioningly at his employer.

"However," he went on in the specialized CEO voice he had perfected as a teenager, "sometimes you just have to let go." He let a soft bit of concern temper his voice, and as he slid into his chair across the wide expanse of desk, he gave Mark small smile. Carefully crafted concern and understanding lifting his eyebrows and kneading his forehead into small lines.

"I'm sorry, sir, I... I don't think I understand."

"Mark. You're a smart boy." Jorge Azteca had put his hand on his chin and was shaking his head gently. He stood up and walked to the window in his office that faced out into the workspace, he turned back to Mark, "A real team player. You've always been good at understanding what's good for the company is good for you." He turned to face Mark again, "Now I know. I know that if you thought for one second anything you could say about the… Acrylian Situation… would help - you'd say it." All the time he'd been talking Azteca had been narrowing the distance between himself and the programmer still shifting uncomfortably in his chair until he, having finished his circuit of the room, slid back into his place across the desk. "Wouldn't you?"

"Certainly, sir."

There was a stretch of silence as Jorge Azteca stared down at a gold-plated pen he was fingering. When he looked up the warm concern was gone, his eyes had gone cold, "Mark. You sabotaged the network of a software superpower. There's nothing you want to add?"

Mark stared at him

"We have to let you go. All future contracts are off. Under the circumstances I can hardly give you a recommendation, but good luck getting another job."

Since Azteca had begun hinting he was blaming Mark for the hacking of Acrylian, a coldness had settled in the pit of his stomach. The last insult was enough to ignite the cold into anger. "Are you fucking kidding me? I didn't touch Acrylian's system. I had nothing to do with any of that shit!"

"Of course you will be expected to follow all the edicts on the non-compete and non-disclosure contracts you signed at your hiring. All the work you've done here is property of Azteca. We will not hesitate to sue should you choose to ignore those terms. I believe that's all so Good day, Mr…"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuckyou?" His ex-boss looked at him as if it were all the same to him and shrugged, "Good day, Mr. Fuckyou. Security will escort you out." Jorge looked back at the papers on his desk. After a few minutes he looked up.

Mark was still staring, wide eyes aflame with hatred. He continued to glare until Azteca security escorted him out of the building.

"Hey!" Rome jumped from behind his desk as his words failed to slow the blur of motion that was Mark, "Hey!"

Mark whirled to face the vice president. "What?!"

"I... where'ya going?"

"Fuck you! Fuck your father! Fuck this goddamn company! Fuck Acrylian! Fuck you all!" He spun around and walked away quickly.

Rome stood and watched him go, too surprised to react.

As Rome pushed open the door the first thing he noticed was how cold was. Mark's living quarters were cheap and the heat hadn't worked for years. Usually it had been no problem, certainly not during the summer. But this year winter was being especially cold and wet, and Mark had a nearly continuous cold all throughout it.

Rome moved into the kitchen, setting his keys on the counter, "Mark? I got your email." It had been particularly irate, and incomprehensible as Mark always was when upset. Rome moved out of the kitchen towards the bedroom, noting as he did so that the place looked like a pared down version of his own lodgings, messy, sparsely furnished, filled with electrical equipment. "I tried to call but I didn't get an answer." He found the phone sitting on the desk, it was on the hook and when he picked it up he got a perfectly fine dial tone. Rome didn't even know why he was here. Obviously Mark was out and that's why he hadn't answered his phone or his cell phone or his pager, not because he was avoiding Rome's call. He found the cell phone and pager under some papers a second later. "Mark?" The room was mind-numbingly quiet.

After some hesitation Rome pushed open the door to his friend's bedroom. It was cleaner, though even colder than the living area. The overhead bulbs were all burned out but the lamp on the table by the bed was on. "Mark?" Rome brushed blue hair out of his eyes nervously. As he approached the bed he could make out Mark's long thin form under the blanket. He was on his side.

Doing anything, running away, screaming, burning the place to the ground, suddenly seemed a more rational choice than getting any closer to the still figure. But he did anyway.

Rome sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He knew suddenly that Mark's skin would be cold when he touched it. He noted without surprise the faint blue tinge around his mouth. For all his escapades Rome had never, excluding funerals, which didn't count, seen a dead body, not up close anyway. But he wasn't frightened anymore, it was just Mark after all, or it used to be. "Mark."

Rome sat motionless next to his friend for a period of time that was utterly unknown to him. He got up and went into the other room to the phone when it struck him that he didn't really know who to call. Did 911 deal with dead bodies? Should he call the morgue? The health department? Who the hell knew those numbers? The thought of dealing with strangers didn't seem very appealing so he called the only person he had faith in to deal with things.

When Robert arrived Rome let him in and led him to the bedroom where Mark was. The fact that he was still dead was more shocking to Rome than the first discovery, he had a sudden urge to run out of the room and close the door, as if opening it again would reveal a living Mark.

But it wasn't until Robert looked at him sorrowfully and said, "Oh gods Rome, I'm so sorry" that he finally broke. While Rome mourned his friend, Bob called the appropriate entities. Only later when he was again capable of speech and coherent thought did Rome begin to pore over the papers foremost on Mark's desk.

"Hey Bob?"

"Yes?"`

"What's this?"

"That's… uh… Aztectecnologies' equivalent of a pink slip."

"That's what I thought it was. Hey, Bob? I'll be back later." Rome left.

The office of Jorge Azteca was located deep within the Aztecnologies building. The layers of suited employees so surrounded his lair that Rome, in his ragged jeans and T-shirt immediately stood out. Rome burst into the room. "What the fucking hell is this?!" Rome brandished the papers that detailed Mark's firing.

His father got up and calmly closed the door and drew the blinds. "What are you doing here? You have your own office, remember." The silent but implied, "you idiot" did not escape Rome's notice.

Without replying Rome tossed the papers onto his father's desk. "These papers. You fired Mark, didn't you?"

"Well, son," Azteca placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, "Yes. It was in the best interest of the company."

"Bullshit!" Rome shrugged the hand off, "He was a damn good programmer; the company needed him."

"Rome, can I assume you've kept up your habits of not reading the news. Or paying any attention whatsoever to what goes on outside your bedroom?"

Rome glanced downward, then several bits of information floated into place, "You let Mark take the fall for the Acrylian hack?"

Jorge shrugged, "Whether he did it or not is now a rather moot point, no?"

"Fuck you. He didn't do it. I did."

"Rome... Rome, Mark is dead. There's no reason to protect him now."

"But I'm not. I..."

"Listen, Rome, you think I don't fucking know every screw up you've ever pulled in your entire fucking pathetic life, I know what goes on in this company, but I'm giving you an out. I'm giving you another chance to save your fucking hide, so if I were you, I'd stop fucking complaining on behalf of a dead faggot and get the fuck out of my sight."

"Fuck you, Dad," Rome raised a fist in threat.

"You gonna hit me, Rome? I don't think so."

Rome let his hand fall, eyes fixed submissively on his father.

"Now, Rome," Jorge began gently, "What are you doing here?"

Rome opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head as if begging for quarter.

The CEO of Aztecnologies stared coldly at his son for a moment. "Well?"

Rome almost had time to think before he found himself slumped against the wall with bright silver spots fading in and out of his vision. His head began to throb as his father knelt down in front of him. Jorge's lips moved but Rome only heard a constant high-pitched ringing. He put a trembling hand to his jaw. "Fuck you." It came out as little more than a whisper.

"What?"

"Nothing." Rome left.

Rome lay half on the couch, having had to twist a significant distance to reach the phone, "Hello?"

"Rome Azteca?"

"Yeah?"

"Hi! It's Joe."

"Joe." Rome, after a moment of silent contemplation, matched the name to the face of one of the programmers he worked with regularly. "Oh, hey."

"Um.. yeah. I was... well, I've been hearing some things I thought you might want to know about."

Rome sat up a little, Joe was well-connected; things he heard were generally worth listening to. "Yeah?"

"I hear the pigs aren't satisfied with busting Mark Pfefferburg. I hear they're coming after you next."

"How serious?"

"Hmm... serious enough that I'd dump my hard drive. Skip town. Pretty serious, Rome."

"Huh."

"Yeah. Just thought you should know."

Rome hung up the phone and rolled over, this time sliding completely off the couch onto the floor. Kat landed on his stomach. "God, Kat, I could use a hit." The cat glared at him and he shrugged testily. "What?"

Kat launched herself at the door just in time to collide with Julian as he entered. "Rome? You here?" Julian set down his briefcase.

"Merph. Here." Rome declined to move.

Julian came across the room to sit on the couch. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"Brutal images of torture."

"No, really."

"What makes you think I'm not serious?"

"You're not smiling. You always smile when you're being serious."

Rome grinned. "You don't want to know." He turned his head to look at Julian who was studying him patiently. "Alright. Shooting up. I'm thinking about heroin."

"Yeah?"

"Haven't touched it in years. Haven't wanted to for years." There was a pause in which Rome sighed deeply, "God, I need a hit."

Julian smiled sympathetically. "Rome," he lay down on the floor next to him, "It's..."

Rome slapped Julian's hand away from his face before he could touch him. "You're not listening, Julian!"

"Wha...?"

"How can you say it's anything when you don't even know what it is?!"

Julian looked hurt. "Rome, I'm just trying to..."

"What? Help? Make me feel better? What?"

Julian stared coldly at him. "Fuck you, angel."

"Fuck you!" Rome sprang to his feet and began to pace the room furiously.

"Stop it." Julian got up. "In case you've forgotten, Rome, I do know what it is to lose your best friend! I know what it is not to know what you're gonna do next or whether it wouldn't be better to just fucking die! Fuck you, Rome! And don't try to tell me I don't know!"

"Fuck you." It was said quietly. Rome stared at the floor. "Julian, I'm sorry."

Julian just looked at him.

"I love you. I'm sorry."

"I know." Julian crossed the room and pulled him into his arms. "I know." He kissed him.

Rome opened his eyes to see Julian digging a pair of jeans out of a dresser drawer. "Hey!"

Julian gave him a startled look.

"You can't put those on!"

"Huh?"

Rome slid out of bed to the floor and crawled rapidly to Julian. Julian shook the folds out of the jeans, and Rome snatched them away from him.

"Hey!" he laughed, chasing Rome as he half-rolled, half-hopped around the room, keeping the pants away.

"Got your pants! Got your pants!"

"As usual."

Rome grinned. "Where ya going, Kobash?"

"Bagels. What kind do you want?"

"Stay," Rome whined, running a hand through Julian's wet hair.

"I'll be right back, Rome. Don't go anywhere."

"I see no immediate need for bagels. I'd much rather you stay."

"I'm hungry. We have no food."

Rome gave him an imploring look.

Once again mystified by Julian's ability to sidestep his pleading look, Rome handed him his pants. "Well, look, I'll take a quick shower and come with you."

Julian kissed his cheek. "Nah. Ne sois pas silly; stay in bed. I'll be right back."

Rome rolled over and dozed until the phone rang.

"Rome Azteca?"

"What?"

"We found your name and number in Julian Kobash's wallet. He was the victim of a mugging earlier this morning."

Rome sat up slowly. "Where is he?"

"He... he died before police arrived on the scene. We need someone to identify the body... if you could come downtown..."

The phone dropped to the floor as Rome's fingers lost their strength. A second later he scrambled after it, "I'm sorry. What?"

"We need someone to identify the body."

This time Rome calmly tore the phone line out of the wall. His vision faded between gray and black as his head seemed to spin wildly. After several moments, he remembered to breathe. He stared straight ahead until he could almost clearly see Bradley and Kat sleeping in a chair in front of him. He felt sick.

Eventually Kat began to meow for food. Rome took a moment to wonder why she didn't eat the food he knew Julian must have given her before he left, then realized that that had been at least seven hours ago. He ignored her.

Sometime later the knocking at the door failed to wake Rome from his stupor. Neither did the sounds of the door being forced open, nor the officer that arrested him on charges of computer fraud and industrial espionage, nor the promise of a long prison sentence. Not a whole lot had the power to rouse him anymore.

Robert ran into Rome and his police escort on his way into the building. Rome looked at him dully. "The door's unlocked. I think the cats are hungry," he said flatly. Robert said nothing, just watched as Rome was guided into the police car and driven away.

the end. June 22 99.