Mistletoe

"That's fine then," Yoka said.

She ignored his comment about her panties until he was asking her about what was on under her dress now. The corner of her lip twitched upwards. She arched an eyebrow.

"You want to find out?" Yoka said. "Gin, darling, you know I like to be wined and dined first."

Yoka didn't want that to be an invitation without an insult, so she looked around the bar and then said, "And no offense, but you know this isn't the kind of wining or dining i'm interested in."

Yoka rose from the chair.

"You're right," Yoka said. "I don't need a chair because I don't really need to be here."

She set the empty cup on the table. Her eyes were narrowed and her face lost faint trace of amusement they had before.

"i forgot until now," Yoka said. "The reason I didn't look for you after you left."

The words surprised her.

She wasn't sure why they surprised her. Until now, everything had just been small jabs, but now Yoka felt like she'd aimed a shot right for the kidneys. it wasn't quite fatal, but it was enough to hurt, and the impact shocked her a little bit, too.

She had the decency to look pained as long as it took a hummingbird to flap its wings and then Yoka turned her head.

"I'm not a whore, Gin. You may have forgot that," she said.

Yoka actually glared at him. Her amber eyes narrowed and the look on her face wasn't just anger, but pity. He would never understand.

"It's disappointing to hear you say that," she said. "I thought better of you, you know that? Even after all this time. I am sorry to say that my self-worth is not determined by the number of people I choose to have sex with."

What a typical man.

It surprised her how disapointed she was.

Yoka was a creature of sex. There was no denying it. She'd taken erotic arts and made them her own. It was impossible to mention Exotic Dance on the island without Yoka's name being dropped.

But it was just one part of her. She was a damned good business woman, an entrepreneur, and a decent spell caster to boot. She was so much more than her body, but even he couldn't see past that. He saw her as a thing to be had. He would never understand.


Yoka laughed, her voice just as bitter. "You didn't invite me to talk. You invited me to drink. And I did."

But she didn't leave, even while he approached her.

She did look around, taking in all the stuff, the meaningless trinkets he decided held some significance to their relationship. It was probably touching that he carried it all the way over here. Yoka could not imagine the cost it would take to lug that piano around. He would have done better to scrap it and get a new one, one that was actually in tune and didn't hold the lingering scent of tobacco when she pressed the keys.

But it was nice that he carried it.

Yoka didn't want to admit that.

She crossed her arms, stuck out her chin, and said, "Can you even play the piano?"

She wasn't leaving yet.

But she was close to.

Yoka did not sit back down, but she didn't take another step towards the door. She wondered if he was trying to coax her like some wild animal that never heard music before drawn in with curiosity.

But, of course, Yoka heard this song before. The roaring twenties, a silk dress, a slow day at the bar, drinking sweet champagne and listening to the rain outside.

Yoka crossed her arms across her chest.

That wasn't the time he'd fucked her on that piano, but now that was in her head, too.

She said the same thing she said then, her posture the same, her head tilted back to her long neck was angled like a bent prison bar. She said, "When are you going to get that damn thing tuned?"

It was, maybe, an indication that she wanted him.

or maybe she couldn't stand the sound. She wasn't elaborating.

When was this one from? This didn't have as strong as a memory for Yoka. She was a little ashamed to admit that. Things blended together after a while. Her time with Gin was one long montage of sex and dancing and light travel and abandonment packed up all packed together in a dusty box that Yoka didn't plan on pulling off the shelves until she'd grown bored.

And she wasn't bored. His arrival was a complication to her plans.

Yoka was not one to flip-flop through the extremes. She went through life on schedule, taking a few stops for appropriate reactions here and there, but for the most part she had an even temperament.

Except where he was involved.

The emotional flipflopping from the last few hours was exhausting, and it'd only been a few hours. Yoka wanted a drink, the stiff kind, but she'd be damned if she'd drink it in front of him.

"it has nothing to do with the song itself," she said. "But the notes that make it up. They're off. They need to be adjusted. You should hire a piano tuner. There's probably a siren on the island who could tune that sucker by ear."

Yoka chewed on the inside of her cheek. She tasted blood. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, fiddled with one of her many spell bracelets, and then said, "I can introduce you to some people that would be good to know on the island, if you want."

"Fair enough," Yoka said.

It didn't matter to her, she decided. She realized he'd been hoping he'd take the offer, but part of her was relieved that he didn't. It took some of the weight off her shoulders. He wasn't her problem. Of course, he was still a problem, but he wasn't her problem.

Yoka considered his question. She tapped a long nail against her bottom lip. Both were painted the same brilliant shade of red. She was looking at him while she considered this, but Yoka's thoughts were some place far away. She didn't seem to notice.

"No," Yoka said. "Things change and the past gets tainted by the present. Things that don't change become obsolete. I look forward to seeing what the future brings."

She was disagreeing, yes, but Yoka was starting to wonder if she was disagreeing only to agree. She probably was.

"Thank you for the drink, Gin," she said. She stood there for another moment and then started towards the door. She hesitated right before walking out and said, "Gin. My door is open, too. Merry Christmas."