Gabriel's Inferno

he was taking Rachel and Julianne into an environment that he could not control. For this one night, he would be Beowulf instead of Dante, warrior instead of poet. He would carry his sword unsheathed in his hand, and he would slay Grendel and all of his relatives if they even looked in the direction of his precious charges. Although he saw the sheer hypocrisy of it, he swallowed it whole to make Rachel happy.

When Rachel and Julia dutifully followed him out of the cab and toward the front door of Lobby, they were met by a long line of people who were waiting to get into the club. Gabriel disdained the line and approached the bouncer, a large, bald African-Canadian, who wore diamonds in his ears. He shook Gabriel’s hand and greeted him formally. “Mr. Emerson.”

“Ethan, I’d like you to meet my sister, Rachel, and her friend, Julianne.”

Gabriel gestured to the young women, and Ethan smiled and nodded, stepping aside to let them in.

“What was that about?” Julia whispered to Rachel as they entered a modern and tastefully decorated black- and-white space.

“Gabriel is on the vip list, apparently. Don’t ask.” Rachel wrinkled her nose.

Gabriel led them to the back of the club, to an exclusive area he had reserved known as the White Lounge, imaginatively named because of its monochromatic decor. The two friends sat on a low, white banquette, lounging comfortably on the ermine covered cushions. From their perch, they could see the dance floor that was located like a hub at the entrances to the private lounges. At the moment, no one was dancing.

Rachel gave her protege an admiring glance. “Julia looks beautiful, doesn’t she, Gabriel? Really gorgeous.”

Julia blushed an abnormal shade of crimson and began fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Rachel, please,” she whispered.

“What? Isn’t she beautiful?” Rachel frowned over at her brother, who was shooting her a warning glance.

“You both look fine,” he said, admitting nothing and shifting his legs as if he were in pain.

Julia shook her head minutely and cursed under her breath, wondering why she cared so much about his opinions and why it was so difficult for him to be nice. Next to her, Rachel shrugged. It was Gabriel’s money.

And if he didn’t worry about throwing away almost two thousand dollars to make Julia look fine, who was she to object? Except that his obvious lack of enthusiasm was an indictment of her ability to elicit a reaction from him.

So she rose to the challenge.

“Hey, Julia…” she began, making sure Gabriel was listening and watching him out of the corner of her gray eyes, “how was your date with Paul?”

Julia’s skin maintained its current shade of red. “It was very nice. He’s a real gentleman. Very old- fashioned.”

She resisted the urge to turn to Gabriel to see if he was listening. She needn’t have bothered. Rachel was doing enough watching for both of them.

“And he took you to dinner?”

“Yes. To The Nataraj, his favorite Indian restaurant. Tomorrow he’s taking me to a double-feature at the Film Festival and afterward to Chinatown.”

“Is he cute?”

Julia squirmed. “If a rugby player could be termed cute. But he’s handsome and kind. He treats me like a princess.”

“Angelfucker.”

Rachel and Julia turned to Gabriel, not quite sure they heard what they thought they heard. Julia’s eyebrows went up, and frowning, she looked away.

Satisfied that she’d provoked a reaction from her brother commen-surate with his most recent infraction, Rachel turned in her seat to check her makeup in the mirror behind them. She was dabbing her rose-colored Chanel-coated lips when she suddenly stopped, staring at someone who was walking in their direction.

“Gabriel, that woman is totally eye-fucking you! What the hell?”

As if in response to Rachel’s exclamation, an artificially blond-haired waitress approached them immediately.

“Mr. Emerson! It’s so good to see you again.” The waitress leaned down, exposing the top of her moderately endowed cleavage and resting a finely manicured hand on his shoulder, her coral-colored nails gleaming in the low light.

Julia scowled in spite of herself and wondered if the waitress planned on doing something to Gabriel with those fingernails, or if she was just flashing them to scare other women away.

The woman nodded at them. “My name is Alicia, and I’ll be your server.”

“Start a tab for me please. Drinks for the three of us are on me and one for Ethan and yourself, of course.” Gabriel placed a folded bill in her hand, effectively freeing his shoulder from her touch.

She smiled faintly and palmed it.

“Ladies?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on Gabriel and smiling provocatively, the tip of her tongue just poking out between her coral-colored lips.

“A Cosmo for me,” said Rachel.

Julia froze.

“What would you like?” Rachel nudged her.

“I…don’t know,” Julia stammered, wondering what she could order that wouldn’t embarrass her. In a place like Lobby she couldn’t exactly order a beer or start doing shots of tequila, which were her usual poisons.

“Two Cosmos, then.” Rachel turned back to her friend. “You’ll love them — they’re great.”

“A double shot of Laphroaig twenty-five-year-old, neat, please. And ask the bartender for a small shot glass of spring water, non-sparkling,” Gabriel instructed without making eye contact with the waitress.

The waitress left, and Rachel began to laugh. “Big brother, only you could make ordering a drink sound pretentious.”

Julia giggled, if only because she liked the sight of Gabriel’s irritation at his sister’s characterization.

“What’s Laphroaig?” she asked.

“A single malt Scotch whisky.”

“And the spring water?”

“Just a drop or two to open up the taste. I’l let you try it when it arrives.” He hazarded a small smile in her direction, and she turned away, looking down at her lovely shoes.

He followed her gaze and found himself entranced by her beautiful high heels. Rachel had no idea how fine a purchase they’d been. It was worth every penny just to see Miss Mitchell’s lovely legs, arched and lengthened by those exquisite shoes. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping the movement would successfully dislodge his advancing arousal from its current trap.

It didn’t.

“I guess you can wait for the drinks, Gabriel. Julia and I are going to dance.”

Before Julia could protest, Rachel had pulled her onto the dance floor, motioned to the dj for him to turn the music up, and proceeded to dance with enthusiasm.

Julia, on the other hand, was uncomfortable. She could see that Gabriel had moved so that he could stare at her, leaning back on the banquette and watching, eyes intense and unblinking. She wondered if he’d noticed the fact that she wasn’t wearing traditional panties underneath her dress.

Is that something men notice? Panty lines?

She was unable to look away as his eyes leisurely smoothed over her from head to foot, resting longer than necessary on her shapely bare legs and her red-soled heels.

“I can’t dance in these shoes,” Julia protested in her friend’s ear.

“Bullshit. Just move your body and let your feet take a rest. And you look great, by the way. My brother is an idiot.”

Julia turned her back on her professor and began to dance, closing her eyes and letting the music take her. It was a remarkable feeling. As soon as she forgot about him and his penetrating blue eyes, she was actually able to enjoy herself. Marginally.

I wonder if he can see vestiges of my thong through the fabric of my dress.