The Hound is a Fox - Attn: Patrick/Sable

The crowd danced, the music thrumming in the summer heat, their bones aching with it. This was the social elite. Alcohol flowed freely for all; cigarette smoke hazed the air and drugs slipped underneath it all for those who wanted it. Camera’s flashed, both press and personal, shot glasses glittering with it as they emptied down the throats of the European heir’s. It was a legal den of inequity, or at least one that the cops didn’t touch. Legalities weren’t important in a world where money meant everything. Everyone was corrupt; it was just a matter or working out a person’s price.

She stood at the balcony, looking out over the pulsing crowd. This was where Adriannah belonged, at the top of it all looking out over everyone. She didn’t belong on that pissy little island most people knew as Australia. Adri was popular, envied. She was the next generation. She was the new Italy. She loved her mother with everything but she also resented the woman who insisted on taking her away from everything she knew and loved.

None of this showed on her young face, however. As she’d been taught, Adriannah faced the world with a smile on her face and an arrogant look in her eye. No one saw what she was really thinking or feeling. Not even the one person who probably should.

“Adriannah!” At 19, Alejandro was confident, gorgeous, and knowing. The twinkle in his eye was the knowledge that the world wasn’t as simple and easy as it looked. He knew what she was and she knew what he was. Their lives should never have worked together and yet, they were the perfect match within a world of superficial beauty and money.

“Happy birthday, baby.” She accepted the drink he held out for her but she didn’t drink from it. Instead, she let him draw her into a possessive hug and buried her head against his neck. He doesn’t need to know, not yet.

Adriannah was only 16, young and rich. She was the epitome of Italian socialite. She was the student body president at her Swiss private school; she had invites to all the hottest parties across Europe and the Americas. She’d even scored one of the Foriglia heirs. Her future was planned out to the hour. She would be the future CEO of one of the biggest businesses in Italy, the DeSalay Corporation. Is any of that even possible now?

“Thank you darling,” Alejandro bent his head to kiss her as they slipped onto the dance floor. He didn’t notice as she gave her drink to one of her bodyguards. No one thought anything of it. Instead, they became one with the crowd and let the music take over.

Leaving her past where it was, surprised at the difference fifteen years could bring, Adri realised that nothing had really changed. The obscenely rich and powerful still squandered their money away on booze, fast cars and clothes while those who wanted that money stood outside in the lines, begging their way in. The sad part about it was that Adriannah still fit right in. She was still young enough to blend, especially here in Evolution. There were the older crowds and the younger, the goth sect and the glam crowd. It was a blast from the past no doubt. All she could do in that second was drink her rum and coke, hold the rum, and watch the crowd for her mark.

On the perfect job, however, the mark would find her without much effort on her part. Her hair was golden, her dress short, and her heels high. She knew from experience that very few men could resist a woman with a skirt that barely covered everything it needed to, especially with men with this reputation. Running her hand down her side conspicuously, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least I’m wearing underwear.

The fact that Patrick Zeleski was an inglorious horn dog was vital to her plan. When she saw him walk into Evolution she knew it wouldn’t be difficult to get on his radar. Finishing her coke, she positioned herself where he’d see her very, very clearly. The crowd parted subconsciously as he stepped toward the bar. He might have been alone but he certainly had presence. Adri stood in Zeleski’s field of vision while avoiding the icy glares of those around them. She smirked, her hands crossed over her chest, emphasising the fact that her dress was cut very low.

“Well,” Patrick stepped up to her, looking her up and down. “You’re definitely a pretty little blonde, but you’re not Tyler.”

“Hmm,” she smiled wider, “You got my message.” Turning her back on him, she walked slowly to the bar and ordered a vodka sunrise sans the vodka.

[OOG: From Reason #23...]

Tyler wasn’t historically the “mysterious” type. She was more the hot girl next door who likes to surf and burp on the couch type. Less Femme Fatale and more Blue Crush. But still, as all the teeny bopper movies insist, even the tom boy wants to be girly sometimes. Takes off her glasses, puts on a dress, wears make-up and blammo! - Rachel Leigh Cook is coming down the stairs smoking hot. Hell, Patrick was always up for a little role playing, so he had decided to head on to Evolution to play James Bond or whatever game she had in mind.

He rolled up to Evolution and left his car with the valet. He barely noticed the line at the door as he walked up and lifted the velvet rope to let himself through.

“Good way to lose a hand.”

Patrick looked up (and up and up) into the face of what may have been the hairiest man he’d ever seen. Looked like Dog Boy from the freak show really. “I’m sorry?” he asked.

“No, you’re not,” the bouncer answered. “But you will be if you don’t put my rope back.”

Patrick was half taken aback and half amused by the man’s hostility. He wasn’t used to being treated like this, not at the hottest spots in L.A. “What’s your name? I could have you fired in fifteen minutes,” he said, not really caring that it made him look like a douche. Victory was worth it.

“I could have you eaten in five,” the man answered with a grin that showed a lot (a whole lot) of teeth. “My name’s Bruce, and you don’t cross that rope unless you’re on my list.” At this he held up a clipboard that looked like it had been broken and taped back together many times. “So I guess the real question is, what’s your name?”

Patrick sighed. He’d have to play along. “Patrick Veleski, and if my name isn’t on your list, then the problem is with the list - not me.”

“Did you say Veleski?”

Figuring maybe the man couldn’t hear too well at that altitude, Patrick answered. “Yes. Patrick.”

The big Mongo started laughing. Patrick was about ready to shove an energy bolt up his ass when the big guy leaned forward and pulled the rope aside. “Please, Mr. Veleski. Do come in. Have a wonderful time tonight.”

Not sure what was funny, Patrick gave the man an icy stare as he walked past him through the door. As the door closed, he heard a patron in the line ask him something. He couldn’t make out the question, but he certainly heard the reply. “I would have, but they won’t give me any more and this one’s about to die.”

Patrick paid little attention. The bouncer was already history to him. What really mattered was that Tyler Calder was somewhere in this bar, hopefully wearing a short skirt. Patrick leaned over the bar and ordered a drink as he started to figure out how to find Tyler. He didn’t know if she was an “upstairs” type of girl here or not. She had the credentials to get in, but did she have the attitude to want to? Patrick took his Scotch and turned around, leaning back with his elbows on the bar as he scanned the room.

Tyler was nowhere to be seen. It was pretty crowded, and she hadn’t mentioned a time, so…wait a tick. His eyes were caught by a shiny little number in back. He waited for a group to pass in front of her, and did his best not to stare. His best wasn’t very good. The dress was a silvery, shimmery thing that looked more like three bandanas tenuously tied around her. She had that classic straw blonde hair that was just begging to be mussed on his pillow. And she was looking right at him, while sucking some of her drink off her finger. Subtlety is overrated.

Confident as ever, Patrick decided it couldn’t hurt to see if somehow this had been the girl who left the note. So he sauntered over to her, checked her out (while letting her see him do so) smiled and said, “Well, you’re definitely a pretty little blonde, but you’re not Tyler.”

Now her reaction would tell whether he had the right girl. “Hmm,” she cooed at him. “You got my message.”

She then promptly turned and ordered herself another drink. She was obviously supremely confident. Patrick liked that in a girl. She was obviously also obviously the girl who’d left the note. He wondered for a moment if she knew who he was, how she’d found him, why she’d left a note, and a couple hundred other questions right up until she turned back around and smiled at him. Then he only had one question, and it wasn’t one asked in polite company. He decided, however, to ask her a different one than he really wanted. “So, do you have a name or do I have to use a cheap pickup line to get it?”

*********************************************

What kind of dumbass name is Sable anyway?

Patrick pulled again at the bonds tying his arms behind the chair he was strapped to. No luck, there was simply no slack to work with. He worked his lips at the gag in his mouth but was no more successful. Bitch was psycho but apparently not incompetent. More’s the pity.

His head was jerked back suddenly, but the black in front of his eyes turned to gray as the blindfold was removed. As his eyes adjusted to the sharp light he half expected to see Batman standing there with a plunger. No such luck.



[OOG: Continued in Beware the Fox]