Safe and Sane

Veterans Day meant a holiday, but not for the cafe. It wasn't quite just an excuse for the cafe owner to find a new way to decorate, but there was a large flag pinned up behind the counter, and poppies were propped in small vases on each table.

The weather had taken a sudden turn for the better, almost spring-warm, and the last rays of afternoon sun were still finding the cafe windows as the first of the munch attendees began to arrive.

The club had been transformed. The main room was no longer recognizable as a lounge; it had been made over with mood lighting and subtle decorations. On one end there was a huge buffet, the bar was open and tended. There was even room for dancing on a small wooden floor that had been laid down on the opposite end of the room. Scattered about were bowls of candy of all kinds.

One of the smaller lounges hosted traditional party games -- bobbing for apples, donuts on a string, even a table set up for carving small gourds and pumpkins. A few of the private play rooms on the main level had also been opened, set up for groups or exhibitionism, but as in previous year that wasn't the focus of the night. And, in case anyone had forgotten a costume or hadn't been able to find one, the smallest public lounge was being used as sort of a large wardrobe.

A large poster in the hallway announced the categories for the costume contest: scariest, funniest, the most creative, best couple or group, and -- of course -- the sexiest.

Pete couldn't believe how much work had smothered him of late -- he'd barely remembered to feed himself, surviving mostly on black coffee and cigarettes as they had proven far easier to fit around his busy schedule. He'd begun to feel somewhat like a caged animal, trapped in either his office or his flat, buried under mountains of paperwork that showed no signs of diminishing. This evening, though, he'd swept his desk clean and sworn to himself he'd get out and go further afield than the bar around the corner. He made his way into the club slowly, wondering just what might have changed in his absence.

Another Wednesday, nearly August, and thunderstorms outside. Power held - so far - but the cafe was taking no chances. Which meant that instead of lights on inside, each table was lit by a couple of tealights safely protected in the bottom of water glasses, giving the whole place an unusually intimate atmosphere.

Hot drinks would be on offer as long as the power held out, and the owner and staff appeared to be praying for that between each order.

Saturday night, and the club was open to all members. None of the rooms were reserved, for that one night. Light food and drinks were laid out in the common room, the demo rooms were set up with small stage areas free for anyone's use, and the lounges were set aside, dim lights and blankets available for anyone who needed an escape.

Two of the larger rooms had been opened together to form a dance floor, and the garden was open to make the most of the light remaining as the long summer evening faded to darkness.

Thankfully, the opening night hadn't left the place in too bad a state; he'd seen far, far worse than just this scattering of dreg-filled cups and used plates. Didn't take too long to get everything squared away and he let Beth get on with everything she needed to do before heading out, working on putting the seats up on the tables, humming a little tunelessly to himself.

It was time. The cakes were laid out, the coffee machine was on, the tables were set out and clean. A few relatively discreet prints adorned the walls, and a small display cabinet in the corner showcased the sort of goods that would later be on sale downstairs.

Flyers described the plans for the store, the library and the gallery, and as a last minute remembrance that she wasn't in London and the weather would be terribly nice most of the time and some people would, after all, want to smoke, Beth had arranged a couple of tables in the tiny courtyard at the front of the store, with large, bright parasols shading the strength of the sun.

Now she simply had to cross her fingers and pray that people would turn up.

Another Wednesday, and for once, the cafe was relatively quiet. The manager was taking advantage of this to train up some rather wide-eyed looking new staff, who weren't entirely certain how the coffee machine worked, or the till, or where anything quite was.

The cafe was already gearing up for Independence Day. Flags, bunting and patriotism were the order of the day. Besides the obligatory apple pie, the sweets on offer seemed to be themed around red, white and blue. Strawberries, cream, ice cream and blueberries featured heavily.

In honor of the heat, iced tea and coffee were available alongside the hot varieties.

It was done. Okay, mostly done. He'd filled out the paperwork, handed over his bank details, got the email set up...all Paul was left with now was an intimidatingly long checklist that reminded him over and again exactly how much he didn't know about this kind of thing in any sort of formal setting.

He fetched himself a soda from the bar, sat down, read through the list again, tapped it with the non-inked end of a pen several times, and decided that, yeah, there were times a man just had to admit ignorance. Pushing the (closed) pen into his jeans pocket, he rolled up the list, and went over to someone apparently alone. "Hey, look, if I'm interrupting just, you know, say, and I'll go away, but if you've got time I could really use a hand going through this list. Uh. Please?"

Juneteenth was still a couple days away, but the cafe had embraced the notion wholeheartedly. A barbecue was running among the tables out front, the closest thing they had to a garden, and pitchers of non-alcoholic fruit cocktails available at the counter as an alternative to coffee. Bowls of fruit salad sat alongside the sandwiches in the chiller cabinet.

Wednesday again, and another munch night. The cafe was increasingly quiet as layoffs took effect on household finances, and the board behind the counter was scattered with offers.

Quite why anyone would want to buy two coffees and get a third free, or whether it was a good idea for the majority of munch attendees, was anyone's guess.

Despite his earlier remarks, he was dressed, albeit it casually in dark cords and a faded red t-shirt, when the doorbell rang, signalling Beth's arrival. Setting down the beer he'd already started into (well, he couldn't really be expected to keep it in the house and resist it), he brushed himself off and padded over to the door, opening it with a flourish and a massive smile. "'Ello, princess," he grinned, pulling her towards him.

As promised, he was there early -- a rare thing for him, but he wasn't sure he'd like the consequences all too much if he wasn't prompt. He sat comfortably in the lounge, a drink in one hand that he alternately stared into the depths of and took large swigs from, practically vibrating with nervous excitement, energy coursing through his veins already and he'd yet to even see the man, let alone experience him. Still, he did his best to seem as calm and collected as was possible, splayed out on the sofa carelessly, his tie loosened from work and his jacket discarded over the back of his seat.

Eva was not looking her best, and was well aware of it. She was also far too tired to care, having spent most of the night awake with a distraught Oscar while Gale was at the hospital, and most of the morning looking at desperately unsuitable apartments in ridiculous locations. The afternoon wasn't looking any better in prospect, either.

One quick call rescheduled her one meeting of the afternoon, and she headed straight to the club in search of sanctuary, pausing in the doorway of the common room to slide her sunglasses up into her disarranged hair and allow her eyes to adjust to the lower light levels.

She still nearly missed the man on the sofa. She did, however, see him before she sat upon him. The fact that his dark suit blended in with the dark leather of the sofa did not help. "You are practising camouflage, perhaps?"

It was late when Beth got home, but the biggest relief was not going home to be alone. Even if not alone meant Pete. Pete was someone she knew and who knew her and who definitely wouldn't sugar-coat anything.

She paid the taxi, shouldered her bag, glanced around, and then told herself not to be so bloody stupid, Pete would have found his own way in. Keys, code, stairs, more keys, and she was stumbling into her apartment without bothering to turn the lights on.

A while since James had been back to the club. Business elsewhere, lack of time to play. Still, all work and no play was a proverb that still drove James' life, even if the play had changed, and that brought him back once the project milestone had been met, reaching behind the bar for a cold beer and surveying the room

A slow smile curved his lips as he recognized one particular inhabitant, currently with his back to James. He snapped the top off his beer, and strolled over, stopping just out of reach. "Now, I do believe I owe you a kick to the floor."

At least, and for starters.

The room contained a variety of furniture - different functions, shapes, textures. Gale walked among the various pieces, stroking the veined wood that somehow seemed to still bear the warmth of the sun that helped it grow, the metal that curved cold and stark in comparison. Any fancy that might strike, he felt prepared for... all that was wanting was a companion and he expected Pete any moment.

Stripped to the waist, the wounds from the accident were obvious, but he'd healed enough to play and play hard. Muscles flexed as he coiled a length of hemp rope, the rawness of the rope scraping skin, and a cigarette smoldered in an ashtray nearby. Dark eyes trained on the door, a smile played across his mouth, the air rife with anticipation.

Pete, playing against type, was actually a little early for this meeting, arriving at about 7.45 and setting about fixing himself a drink, nipping out for a fag before heading back to the lounge and getting comfortable. Phone in hand, he whiled away the time reading through old texts and deleting a few unnecessary numbers. He glanced up when he heard someone enter, taking the measure of the man before glancing at his watch. "Am I right in thinking you're Gale?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.