Playing at Grown ups

A Pink Dormouse Production

Chapter Six

Avon

"I’m home!" Vila bounced into the living room.

"You work downstairs. I would be more surprised if you were not home at this time." Three months and he still enjoys bar work. Vila’s wages only covered the bare essentials, while semi-retired outlaws and social misfits never tipped well, but it was a steady income while Avon investigated other lines of business. He looked up from his work on the computer. "Anything to report?"

"Marianne’s back from her last run: I saw her carrying a dead animal round to the common. She said she’d come an’ fetch us when she was ready to barbecue. What you workin’ on?" Vila slung an arm round Avon’s shoulders and tried to make sense of what was on the screen.

"New security system for the Central Records Network. Do you know how easy it is to break the current access codes?"

"No but I’m sure you do."

"Purely out of civic duty you understand." And because it’s there...

"Of course. They payin’ you for this?"

"Oh, they will do." He smiled. "You know you should consider doing some consultancy work as well: household security, surveillance systems, that sort of thing. Far more profitable than bar work for a start, and better suited to your talents and intelligence."

"No point. Your pal Dariel and his cronies keep the local crime rates down so far that no one really bothers. I only play around with the locks on our doors to keep in practice."

"I would hesitate before going so far as to refer to Dariel as a friend."

"He’s still got his eye on you. Can’t think why you haven’t let him have his wicked way with you yet."

"Maybe I’m just waiting for the perfect moment." Dariel was wealthy, powerful and (allegedly) depraved beyond Avon’s wildest fantasies: all admirable qualities. His computer system made the Central Records Network look like a toy so Avon was putting potential business before undoubted pleasure for as long as possible.

"So how long does it take to butcher a buck anyway?" Vila asked, interrupting Avon’s thoughts on Dariel-related matters.

"Sorry?"

"I was just wondering if Marianne was likely to interrupt us in the next hour or two."

Avon nipped at the web of skin between Vila’s thumb and forefinger.

"I shouldn’t think so. What have you in mind?"

In the end it was Dariel who came for them while Marianne kept an eye on the barbecue. He engaged Avon in conversation about the SCorps’ main computer network, which Vila gave up on almost instantly. Dariel wasn’t that bad, he supposed; provided you liked burly Vikings who insisted on being accompanied everywhere by at least two henchmen. Well I suppose they don’t follow him everywhere: he’s bound to leave them outside the bedroom- or maybe dungeon- isn’t he? ...So perhaps I am still disturbed by him. Ah well I’m sure Avon knows what he’s doin’...

Marianne, much to Vila’s relief had disposed of the remains of the buck and there was merely a plate of steaks, a flagon of wine and five goblets arranged on the table by the smouldering fire. Appropriately enough her leather jacket had flames painted on both sleeves with a picture of a large phoenix on the back.

"This could be the last barbecue of the year so I thought I’d make it a good one. Just lucky I managed to bag a decent buck four weeks ago."

"Four weeks?" Vila was worried.

"Relax, Vila. Game like this needs to be well hung." He wasn’t going to ask...

"So what are those two discussing anyway? They don’t look like they’re flirting for once."

"Are you sure what they usually do counts as flirtin’? I thought Avon’s chat up lines were obscure at times but I don’t get some of Dariel’s at all."

"You really need to get Avon to explain a few things to you sometime."

"If it involves pain I think I’d rather not know."

"Suit yourself. After all I’m just a simple farm girl at heart." Marianne was one of the few people he had met on Astbury who didn’t consider that power games were an essential part of sex. Vila grinned at her.

"Avon has a lot of work on at the moment. Be a shame to get in the way if he wants to do some later." Marianne flashed him a smile in return.

"We’ll see. Go and drag those two over here: I want to start cooking." She divided the wine between the goblets and handed three of them out. Dipping her hunting knife in the fourth she muttered an ancient sounding blessing then poured the contents in a circle around the fire.

Great. Cue yet another discussion on philosophy. Correction, another full scale disagreement on spirituality. Vila wasn’t particularly bothered about the existence or otherwise of deities, higher powers, an afterlife or whatever; he quite liked the idea that all belief systems were equally valid so long as it meant him getting a fair crack at something worthwhile. Unfortunately ‘Agree To Disagree’ didn’t seem to feature in anyone else’s vocabulary on that subject and things tended to get a little heated: not violence-level heated but even so...

He started looking for something to distract them; Marianne picked up the fifth goblet swiftly and raised it to her companions.

"To the hunt."

"In whatever form it takes." Dariel responded. The four drank.

"Okay. Four rare steaks coming up."

"Er, Marianne," Vila interrupted, "how about actually cooked for me. Your version of rare is too close to still alive for my liking."

"It’s obvious you weren’t raised anywhere sensible. But as it’s you, Vila." She chucked a single steak onto the grill and allowed it to char thoroughly before adding the other three.

Marianne

As soon as it had become obvious that she would end up sleeping with Vila, she had moved her small collection of possessions into a room on the first floor of the building. Just because Avon would never admit to having a possessive streak, and, in fact, expended considerable effort claiming the contrary, there was no need to rub in the fact that she was shagging his Primary from time to time. She sometimes suspected that his reluctance to respond to Dariel stemmed from a similar conflict. Oh well, best of five games of pool then she would make her excuses and see what happened.

Vila brought their drinks over from the bar.

"I can’t believe those two want to talk about networks rather than play doubles."

"Just us two then. Best of five anyway?"

"Why not? Nothin’ else to do."

She grinned as her red ricocheted off three cushions and into the pocket she’d been aiming for in the first place. Straightening up to contemplate her next shot she spotted Avon heading towards them.

"Vila?" Vila nodded to Marianne and went to see what his Primary wanted.

"You haven’t forgotten me name then?"

"Bit difficult when it features on all the bills. Talking of money, if I am to overhaul Dariel’s network in the near future, I should really finish my current project as soon as possible. I shall probably work all night."

"So I s’pose you want me to stay out of the way?"

"It would be useful."

"See you in the mornin’ then."

Well that neatly avoided him having to raise the subject himself...

Vila

By the time he got back to the flat next morning, Avon had left. Vila made a vague attempt at tidying and cleaning; being careful not to move anything of Avon’s more than two centimetres from where he found it, he was certain that the variety of things and stuff on the floor were involved in a hideously elaborate filing system. You had to make these assumptions because if you didn’t it would turn out that items A through M had been laid out in the exact order they were required to complete whatever task Avon claimed to have been in the middle of before going out.

Feeling particularly inspired, Vila even tidied the galley: putting the crockery back into the cupboards for the first time since they’d moved in and inventorying the cold storage unit (one litre of milk, three brands of beer, half a loaf of bread, assorted flavours of luxury ice-cream and a can of spray whipped cream.)

He was ten minutes into his shift that afternoon when Avon appeared.

"A large glass of your most expensive cognac if it is not too much trouble, Vila." Vila refrained from pointing out that they only had one variety of cognac.

"You seem to be in a good mood. Finished the security upgrades then?" Avon grinned and handed him a computer printout,

"Take a look at this." The highly detailed invoice came to a total that Vila would need to work a lot of shifts to equal. He whistled,

"They paid you all this?"

"Of course. I told you to find some consultancy work."

"Don’t need to do I? You can rake in enough for both of us. Did you look at Dariel’s network?" Avon nodded and swirled his cognac round the glass. "And?"

"In purely technical terms, it’s fucked."

"Can you fix it?"

"Of course. I need some hardware items that are unavailable here but I think I know a source for them. Marianne will be visiting the relevant planet on her next run, but she will be on a tight schedule."

"I’ll go with her and pick them up."

"If only we had known how to get you to volunteer before." Avon obviously assumed that Vila wanted to go because of Marianne, not because the alternative seemed to be to let Avon go offworld himself and into who knew what traumatic situations.

"I’m sure there’s plenty for you to be getting on with in the meantime and they can manage perfectly well wi’out me here for a few days. Besides it’d be good to go somewhere different for a change."

"Not what you said when Marianne invited us to her brothers’ farm."

"But that’s countryside, I was thinking about a change of town."

"It’s not a holiday, Vila, you go to the planet, collect the hardware and leave again. Hardly any time for drinking at all."

"I’ll do it. It’s not a big deal. What could possibly go wrong?"

"With you around almost anything."

On to Chapter Seven

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