Chapter 7

©2009 A. Jane

Meria smiled up at Fidgen as they danced together, their bodies shimmying, twisting, and bouncing as the last band of the day played with furious abandon. Each moment she spent with Fidgen was better than the last. She didn’t think it could get any better than when he kissed her after walking her home the other night—she had floated into her little house, giggling endlessly, hugging herself—but today…it was exceeding expectations. If he kissed her…

She had had her crush on him for months, ever since she first saw him sitting in the corner of the pub, never thinking he would want to know her. When she dumped that drink on his head, she had been certain he would never look at her, would hate her for embarrassing him. Instead, he wanted to get to know her. Instead, he called her pretty.

When the band ended their set, she flung her arms around Fidgen’s neck, laughing. He wrapped his arms around her and swung her around, laughing as well. Placing her on her feet, he touched her cheek, leaned down and…

“Fidgie?” a woman’s voice interrupted the couple.

Fidgen looked over and barely kept from groaning. He wanted to kiss Meria, had been waiting all day to kiss her, for this perfect moment. Ever since kissing her the other night, he had been unable to think of little else. He slipped his arm around Meria’s waist and pulled her tight against his side. He wanted the intruder to know he was with his pretty Meria.

“I knew it was you, Fidgie.” A female Elf with purple dyed hair pranced forward, the shiny metal spikes on her belt, the many hoops in her ears, and the one in her nose, were all glinting in the dipping sunlight.

“I’ve always hated you calling me that, Aphenia.” Fidgen brushed some hair off Meria’s cheek, let his fingers graze her soft skin.

He wondered if he should ignore the other Elf and continue with his plans of kissing Meria senseless. He was certain that Aphenia hadn’t changed in all these years—new hair color not included—so there would be no need to rehash the past.

Aphenia laughed, a soft tinkling sound. “You’re funny, Fidgie.”

“Fidgen was quite serious,” Meria spoke up. She refused to blush when Aphenia looked at her, gave her a once over. She would not cower. In fact, she gave the other woman her own once over. She thought Aphenia looked more as if she were making a fashion statement than being immersed in the culture she was attempting to personify. Her clothing looked to be designer, the holes in her jeans cut instead of worn.

“And you are?”

“This is my girlfriend, Meria Chirptrue.” Fidgen pulled Meria even closer to his side. “Meria, this is Aphenia Dancegem, an old acquaintance.”

“We were more than acquaintances, Fidgie.” Aphenia tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand, a dozen multi-colored, metal bracelets clinking on her wrist.

Meria watched Fidgen cringe at being called Fidgie again and her temper built. “Lovers or not, Aphie, he’s asked you not to call him Fidgie.”

“It’s okay, pretty bird.” Fidgen kissed Meria’s temple, a tiny grin curling up his lips, liking her defense of him. “It’s of little consequence.”

“You don’t like it.”

“No, I don’t, but she doesn’t…”

“You’re dating a WairBird?” Aphenia started laughing. “Fidgie’s dating a Finchie, how cute.”

“Meria’s a Sparrow, Aphie, not a Finch.” He held Meria even tighter; her feathers were getting ruffled. His girl was definitely protective of her Elf. He liked that.

The female Elf kept laughing. “A Birdie, a Birdie, Fidgie’s dating a Birdie. A never ending supply of feathers for Fidgie’s freaky feather fetish.”

“Excuse me?” Meria narrowed her eyes at Aphenia, then raised a brow at Fidgen whose cheeks were turning pink. Fidgen liked feathers? How…intriguing.

“I hate your humor,” Fidgen hissed at Aphenia and then started pulling Meria away.

“Meria?” A male Sparrow approached, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his wide nose. “It is you, abba!” he used the affectionate Sparrow word for little baby. “What you do here?”

“Greffen!” Meria chirped, excited to see the other Bird—it had been ages. She attempted to go hug her father’s former bassist and best friend, but Fidgen kept her at his side. She looked up at the Elf and thought she detected possessiveness in his eyes. She kissed his cheek. “Fidgen, this is Greffen Warblesong. Greffen, this is my boyfriend, Fidgen Kickdrum.”

Fidgen’s breath caught at Meria’s impromptu kiss. He wanted to grab her and kiss her properly for it, even more so for calling him her boyfriend. He relaxed his hold when the snazzily dressed Sparrow was identified as a non-intruding male. “I didn’t recognize you without all the hair, Mr. Warblesong.”

The Sparrow laughed as he ran his hand over his now shaved head. “Those hair styles were cool in the day. This generation has their own idea of cool.” He motioned to Fidgen’s mohawk. “It can’t be easy, gettin’ that to stick up so high.”

Fidgen grinned. “Elf magick and a lot of hair spray.”

Greffen laughed again, then looked at Meria. “Give me some love, abba. It’s been too long.”

Meria ran over and kissed Greffen’s cheek then ran back to Fidgen’s side, taking his hand, weaving their fingers together.

“You hangin’ out with an interesting crowd these days; Fernia can’t be happy.” Greffen watched Meria blush. “Oh ho, you keepin’ a secret. Smart Bird.”

“What Mother doesn’t know can’t hurt me.”

“True, true.” Greffen turned his attention to Fidgen. “You a musician, kid? Or are you just makin’ a fashion statement?”

“I play.”

“Fidgen’s a bassist like you.” Meria kissed Fidgen’s cheek again. “He’s quite talented.”

“You pluck the fat strings?”

“Yes, sir.” Fidgen squeezed Meria’s hand, thrilled to be meeting the one who had inspired him to play the bass guitar, to be a rock musician. Before that, he had been heading towards the concert halls with his cello. “Among other instruments.”

“Call me Greffen, kid. Sir makes me feel old.”

Aphenia cleared her throat, hating being left out, especially since the male Sparrow seemed to be someone important. Everyone ignored her. She crossed her arms over her chest and with lips pinched, glared at the female Bird, thinking it had to be her fault. What was so special about a dowdy little Sparrow girl?

Meria squeezed Fidgen’s hand in return. “You should see Fidgen’s band, Minus Zero, they’re very good.”

“Comin’ from you, abba, I believe it. Terndo was always proud of your ear. A once in a lifetime talent he would proclaim. I would love to have you sing for me sometime. I’ve got a project or two that could use your touch.”

“I’m a teacher now.”

“A music teacher I hope.”

“No, grammar school.”

“Does teachin’ mean you can’t sing?”

“Well, no, I suppose not.”

“Good to hear. We’ll talk some more about you singin’ for me.” Greffen motioned to Meria as he spoke to Fidgen. “Have you heard her sing, kid?”

Fidgen looked down at Meria. “She’s incredible. I’ve been writing a song for her.”

“You’re writing a song for me?” Meria’s round cheeks started turning pink.

He nodded. “Ever since you sang for me in the pub. I think you’ll like it, it’s in that same style.”

“You frequent a pub too, abba?” surprise filled Greffen’s voice. Terndo’s shy little Meria hanging out in a pub? It really had been a long time; it shamed him how long. He had promised and failed.

Meria looked at Greffen. “PubWair in Oak’s Holm. I know, I know, Mother would be horrified, but they make a mean berry daiquiri and serve the finest strawberry Gnome ice cream. That’s where I met Fidgen. You won’t tell Mother will you?”

“She won’t hear a peep from me. Now, I must scoot, I can tell you two want to get cozy.” Greffen handed a card to Fidgen. “Call me before your next gig, I’d love to hear you play, kid. You give me a call too, Meria, I’m serious about those projects.”

Fidgen looked down at the card as Greffen left. He blinked. Greffen Warblesong was a music producer. “Did you know, pretty bird?”

Meria looked at the card. “It doesn’t surprise me. He and Daddy used to talk about it, starting up their own record label; it looks like he did it. Will you call him?”

“I’ll have to talk to my bandmates, but I can’t see them objecting. You’d come with me, if we got to tour, right?”

“If you wanted me to.” She blushed again and she kissed his chin. She liked kissing him.

“Of course I’d… Hey!” Fidgen yelped when Aphenia jerked the card from his hand. “Give that back.”

“Why would a music producer give you a card?”

“Good taste.” Fidgen grabbed the card back and tucked it in his pocket, patted it. “Let’s go home, pretty bird, I’m starving.”

“And we’ll have privacy to make out.”

“Oh yeah.” His eyes heated. He wanted Meria’s mouth open under his.

“You can’t seriously be going out with that Birdie, Fidgie?” Aphenia grabbed his arm.

Fidgen jerked his arm away from her and glared, refusing to acknowledge Aphenia’s insulting question. “Come on, pretty bird.”

“Your mother won’t be happy when I tell her.”

Fidgen put his arm around Meria’s shoulders and they walked away, ignoring Aphenia, but she chased after them.

“I’m gonna tell her. She wanted us to go through the Bonding Rites. She was upset when you dumped me. She still calls me.”

Meria stopped, her eyes narrowed, her hands on her hips. “Go away or I will change and peck your eyes out. I know Bird-fu.”

Fidgen picked Meria up and used his Elf magick to leave the area before a fight could break out between his pretty bird and Aphenia. Arriving in front of the pub—he might be hungry, but he didn’t want to cook or to ask Meria to cook—he put her on her feet, his arms still around her, and kissed her.

“Wow.” Meria looked up at him, her eyes unfocused from the kiss. Fidgen sure knew what to do with his lips. “Do that again.”

“Gladly.” He covered her lips with his and used his tongue to tempt her deeper. He wondered if he should have traveled to Meria’s house instead. Except, he didn’t want to rush her, no matter how hot she made him.

“Get a room!” Someone grumbled.

Fidgen grudgingly pulled away from kissing Meria and looked up annoyed at the interruption. He had to admit he was relieved to see that Aphenia hadn’t chased them, latching onto his magick when he left, but… He stared at the crowd milling around the pub. He hadn’t seen a crowd hanging around outside the pub since that first day of Neak’s pollination almost a week ago.

“What’s going on?”

That same someone, a young looking Mage—which meant he was entirely too old, as Mages aged a bit backwards—pointed at the pub. “The place hasn’t opened yet.”

Fidgen looked at the pub and there was indeed a closed sign hanging in the window. He looked at his watch and discovered they should have opened an hour ago. Everyone was looking quite put out about the matter.

“I wonder what’s up.” Meria clasped her hands together, fretting.

“That’s what we’d like to know, Miss Chirptrue.” Torel Shiningbutton, the young looking Mage, shrugged. “I can’t get a sense of anything either.”

“Oh no. You don’t think…”

A female Lobo trotted up and then changed into a woman. She looked around at the crowd, her grey eyes wide as if she had never seen so many different types of individuals before. Shaking herself as if remembering why she was there, she brushed long hair, a mixture of platinum, silver and jet, over her shoulders and attempted to smooth away the wrinkles in her pretty, red blouse. Opening her shoulder bag, she pulled out her lipstick and applied it with the guide of a tiny compact. She dabbed a little puff over her nose and then put the compact and lipstick away. After dabbing some perfume on her neck and in her cleavage, she plumped her breasts—secretly adjusting her bra into a more comfortable position—unaware of the leering males.

She chewed her lip a moment, ruining her new application of lipstick and then walked over and tried the door. When it refused to open, she rattled it, thinking it might be stuck.

“They’re closed, sweetheart,” Torel called. He kept from whistling, but he couldn’t stop the sigh. The Lobo was stacked. What was it about the curvaceous Aristo females that made him hot and bothered? He felt heat suffuse his face with his lecherous thought. Sweet Mother, he could hear his grandson calling him a perv. Or better yet, the kid’s favorite: Pervy Mage.

“Oh!” She noticed the sign then and stared at it a moment. “The sign says their hours for the evening are from six to twelve. It’s after six.”

“That’s obvious, cupcake!” Someone in the crowd shouted and earned laughter.

The Lobo looked vexed at the treatment, the corners her mouth drawing inwards. “My name’s Isabee, not cupcake, and I’m here to see Dewinar Melodyhowl.”

“So are the rest of us.” More laughter.

That confounded her more.

“That’s enough teasing.” Torel glared at the crowd of hooting men, his Mage abilities telling him the Lobo female was the simple sort. He hopped down from his perch on the fence and walked over to the Lobo. Despite knowing she was simple didn’t mean it wasn’t a fight to keep from staring at her breasts. He loved big busts. “I’m Torel Shiningbutton, Senior Mage, Class Eight.”

“Isabee Nightsong.” Isabee stuck out her hand, smiling broadly at the man with long, blond hair.

Torel took Isabee’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure, Miss Nightsong.”

“Do you know Dewinar?”

“We all do.” The Mage swept his arm out indicating the crowd. “He’s a fine bartender.”

“I thought he owned this place.”

“He does along with his cousin, Oben. They both pour the drinks. What do you do here?” His eyes turned black for a moment as his foresight spun. She really was simple, completely unsuspecting…

“I’m here to see Dewinar. He’s supposed to mate with me.”

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