SUSUMBA’SBOOKBAG June 2018
Gemini Steve D. Whittaker
“Speak for yourself,” Al protests, knuckles knocking on table. “I’m the epitome if not the archetype for standard, decent human being… but not so much of an upstanding citizen that I can’t use some advice on how to improve.” “You aren’t trying to improve so much as you’re trying to prove something,” Dez says. “And what am I trying to prove?” The engineer glares at the lawyer. “That you’re as good a dissenter as you are pretending to listen to advice. You’re the type to ask for the sale clerk’s opinion only to choose what you knew you wanted in the first place. You don’t want to be helped or saved. You just want to entertain yourself by entertaining other people.” “So unfair how true that is.” Al smirks. “Wait, is it me or is he occasionally looking in this general direction?” Zen asks. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Dez teases. Zen punches Dez’s arm. “No, I’m serious. At first, he seemed catatonic. Lost. Hypnotized even…” Half laughing, the lawyer quips, “Probably just a tourist then. They’re always standing around like mannequins, until they’re not.” “Maybe just a brown mannequin. But I think he’s stolen a few glances at this table.” “He definitely didn’t,” Al glares at Zen as she bites into a lemon wedge. “At best he’s looking for what he hasn’t lost. I mean, if he hasn’t even been hypnotized by the music and impressed with all the beautiful, hip-shaking, body-bumping fun going on in this indoor carnival, there is nothing at this table for him.” Dez chuckles. “How can you even tell if his irises are focused or not? Or see if his head moved? Perhaps he just finds it a chore having to tell muscle shirts from camisoles, fishnet from lace stockings; corsets from crop tops.” “I’d bet my favorite heels – the ones you’re currently wearing – that Mr. Conventional Family Values is neither curious or furious about all these beautiful shadows flickering under the changing lights,” Al insists. Just then, the stranger slightly tilts his head and shifts his leg. The tension in his face is somewhat eased, his shoulders less square and softer. “Okay, now tell me that’s not him looking this way,” Zen grimaces playfully. “Well,” Dez concedes. “Something’s definitely happening over here. At least in his mind.” “It’s either that or this song that started playing has left him both defeated and awakened. I think he’s actually breathing now,” Al jokes. “I would become concerned then if he starts tapping his feet,” Dez says. “Ha! He should be concerned if his body is hijacked by the music,” Al says. “Tonight has not been the DJ’s best. The selection is hardly, as you might say Dez, transformative enough.” “We should all be concerned,” Zen says solemnly. “Whether or not the music has taken hold, if he comes this way without knowing what he’s in for… we could all be in for a rough exchange.” “Nothing we haven’t dealt with before I suppose,” Al shrugs.
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