Chapter 7: Another Compulsory Brunch

Alastair, to no one's surprise, is clad head to toe in black as he steps out of his car and into the flashing lights of various cameras. He thanks all the stars above that he has sunglasses for this purpose, as well as for protection from the sun. He manages some light attempt at a smile as he makes his way through the reporters and fans who, blessedly, focus their viewfinders primarily on his sister the second she catches up behind him.

“You couldn’t have dressed up a bit,” his sister complains, clinging to his arm and giving him a friendly shake.

Virdia is in various shades of pink and a necklace that reflects so much light off its jewels, Alastair finds he has to raise a hand to further block the glare on his eyes.

“I did dress up,” he notes, regarding the velvet brocade of his jacket. “It’s just that some of us do not consider being visible from the moon a requirement in all of our attire choices,” Alastair quips.

This earns him a hiss of laughter from Azazel, and a slap on his arm from Virdia, as well as a glare.

“Do you think I look alright?” His brother’s unmistakable timid voice whispers on his otherside.

He is only shorter than Alastair by a couple of inches though, but between his sister's six inch heels and the way Azazel tends to slouch, he looks to be far smaller than both his older siblings.

His outfit is nice, though, and his white shirt tucked into clean gray trousers. Alastair spares a moment to mourn the fact that his brother’s anxieties reach so far as to keep him from seeking out any personal style, but blinks the thought away as they approach VLOOD.

Alastair breaks free from his sister to pull the door open with one hand, and give his brother a sturdy, reassuring hand on his back. Azazel straightens his poster reflexively and Alastair gives him a gentle smile and small nod.

“You look very professional, Azazel,” Alastair adds, just to see a hint of confidence grow in his little brother’s eyes.

However, the moment is quickly stolen, as it often is, by Virdia, who pushes past the both of them with a childish ruffle of Azazel’s carefully styled hair.

“You look very handsome, Zelly,” she giggles as she passes.

Azazel’s face scrunches up in rage and embarrassment, but Alastair shuffles them both inside and firmly locks the door behind him. They do not need to give the media any more dramatic dialogue to spin.

The entire front of the cafe is made up of several large paned windows with a door that appear to be cut right out of the glass facade. The reporters and gossipers were tipped off by Virdia that the siblings would be meeting here for brunch to take the cafe for a sort of test run before it officially opens tomorrow. It’s all very clearly a publicity stunt, but that never seems to stop them from working.

It is also extremely rare that Alastair is included in deliberately public outings, so there are even more people lining the streets and craning their necks than usual. He tries not to internally sulk that he must be here instead of a very specific other cafe, but he can not trust his siblings to keep from causing a scene by themselves.

“Why do you have to do that?” Azazel very nearly whines at his sister as they situate themselves at the table most easily visible to the reporters. Alastair is already sighing and they’ve only been together for five minutes.

“Smile, Azazel,” Virdia scolds him lightly without losing an inch on her vibrant grin.

They could not be heard through the glass, but the whole point was that they could be seen. They were meant to be seen having a very good time. Azazel groans in protest, but manages to set his features into something polite by the time he is seated on the other side of Alastair.

The way the booth’s seat rounds leaves his two siblings in profile to the onlookers, but with a pang of misery, Alastair realizes all at once that that leaves him alone to fully face the mob. He must show something because Virdia opens her mouth to form a nonsense string of words while her voice echoes directly inside his skull.

“Switch with me,” she insists, taking off her heart-shaped shades to give him a knowing, but not unkind, stare.

“Should we order like regular people? To show people what they’re meant to do?” Azazel asks, squinting at a minimalist menu under his own pair of round sunglasses.

“I’ve already informed the kitchen what to do,” Alastair notes, ignoring the fact that Azazel seems to think that the average person doesn’t know how cafe’s generally work. He looks back at his sister and allows his voice to sound only in her mind.

“I don’t trust that you can behave yourself,” Alastair continues plainly and, to his sister’s credit, only a subtle irritated flash in her eyes gives away her annoyance at his response. Her smile remains.

“You hate the spotlight, Al. Just switch with me,” Virdia needles. He looks away in dismissal. “I can hear your bones cracking from here you’re so tense,” she teases.

But even inside his head, Alastair can hear her tone soften within a rare moment of sincerity. It's enough to get him to glance back her way. Her smile remains fake, but she quirks a brow and gives his leg a friendly little poke beneath the table. He crumbles under the reminder that his siblings are more than just a liability to him.

“Isn’t it awkward that we’re just sitting here in silence?” Azazel pipes up, forcing both other siblings to just blink and adjust their attention.

He gives Virdia one last resigned, but stern glance, in hopes she may be reminded to be good if he does agree to this exchange. She puts her glasses back on, but it does nothing to obscure the way she rolls her eyes and subtly nods under his intense observation. Pleased, Alastair turns back to his brother.

“Yes, I’ll go make sure our food is on the way,” Alastair replied and Azazel scrambles to let him free before Alastair can even ask.

He sees Virdia steal his seat the second he stands, but pretends not to notice as he walks toward the kitchen and just out of sight. He stands there for a few moments then returns to gratefully to take his slightly more hidden spot beside Virdia. Shes’s practically flirting with the cameras, blowing kisses and giggling while Azazel looks cramped and uncomfortable beside her.

“Well?” Azazel asks, glancing nervously at Virdia whose waving arms keep coming dangerously close to his face.

“It’s on its way,” Alastair confirms. And as if the universe itself had justified his ploy, several waiters emerge from the kitchen with their light meals and fancy drinks.

The setting is very clean and colorless beside the artificially bright vegan blood splattered across bites of sweet and savory treats. The drinks are all in tall crystal cylinders, and their table looks like a stock image of what a trendy cafe is meant to look like. Yet, Alastair finds himself longing for some semblance of color and life. Perhaps the cafe could use some green in it somewhere?

“So, I hear you’ve been cheating on us with another cafe,” Virdia pipes up with no warning and far too casual a tone. Alastair is grateful that he can turn his head completely to the side to hide his obvious shock and confusion from everyone beside his siblings.

“What?” Azazel sputters, but coughs and smiles again when Virdia gives him an audible kick beneath the table. “What?” he says, quieter.

His smile remains strained despite what Alastair knows is his best efforts. Alastair has to take a moment to steady himself before calming his features and focusing on taking sips of the fairly bland drink. He swallows before speaking.

“It’s nothing,” Alastair tries, which earns him his own kick from under the table. He hums through pain, lips still curled in an attempt to look pleasantly calm. “It’s nothing,” he repeats when the pain lessens. “I had heard there was a cafe down the road that may be…”

Alastair pauses and turns his head in case anyone outside is particularly good at lip reading.

“I heard it might be in some sort of competition with this cafe, so I went to check it out. It’s nothing. The place is barely standing, we don’t need to worry about it,” he insists, shoving a bit of some sort of sponge cake into his mouth like that might keep him from having to say more.

This, of course, is not the end of it.

“That’s not what I heard,” Virdia quips with a certain curl to her lip that Alastair has only grown to fear. He only just keeps a straight face, but the joints on his left hand pop with the force in which he is using to grip his own leg. “I heard you’ve been seeing the hot owner,” she teases, careless of who outside might gather any part of that sentence.

Alastair greatly regrets trading seats for the moment.

“Competition?” Azazel frowns, ignoring the topic change completely, as well as their current audience. “You don’t mean they’re selling vegan—ow!”

Azazel’s shriek is extraordinary in pitch even for a vampire.

“Smile!” Virdia reminds him before releasing her taloned grip on his leg.

He does as he’s told despite the single, painful tear that drips down his chin. His head turns his head to the side and away from the onlookers to deliver a seething glare at his sister.

“I am not seeing anyone,” Alastair lies. “And he is not selling anything to take note of, don’t worry.”

“Oh? It’s a boy? I knew it!” Virdia can hardly contain her joy, giving the cameras a show of genuine delight as she takes a long sip of her drink. “If he’s nothing of note why did you visit twice?” she pestered, giving him a sharp tap on the forehead with a pink clawed finger.

“Twice?” Azazel asks. There's a pause where he clearly realizes there's more going on in this conversation than a potential competitor. Alastair watches in horror as the puzzle pieces fall into place behind his brother’s eyes. “You have a boy-!?”

Alastair stands suddenly, and very nearly spills their glasses as the table shakes. The abruptness effectively cuts off his brother, but he hides a grimace as the camera flashes quicken in hopes of capturing some sort of drama. He picks up the drink and pretends to take pleasure in finishing the rest in one go.

“I’m full,” he offers lamely.

His siblings share confused smiles, though Virdia's has a bit more intent behind it. Alastair hates that. He moves so his back is turned to the onlookers and pretends to be picking out a last bite while he addresses his siblings plainly.

“I do not have a boyfriend,” Alastair continues. “Stop getting your followers to spy on me. You and I both know it's unethical,” he scolds Virdia with a bit more heat than he needed. He looks away from his sister’s attempt to hide the wound he’s caused her.

“I have other business today,” Alastair continues before looking back at them both with no small amount of severity. “Promise me you will behave yourselves for at least another ten minutes before leaving.”

Azazel still looks baffled, but manages to shake his head and smile. Virdia rises from the booth to grip him in a hug that he must admit was a brilliant way to keep people from speculating that they argued.

“At least tell me his name,” she whispers into his ear and Alastair finds the strength within him to not shove her away.

“No,” he replies instead and pulls away to display the fakest smile he has had yet.

Virdia smile’s her genuine grin back and forces him to subtly fight free of her grasp before he can escape. Alastair ignores the roar of the crowd as he exits. He offers them a passive, but pleasant wave as he enters his car and finds himself making all the wrong turns to arrive home.

He supposes it should be a shock that he finds himself just a few side streets away from Hyacinth's Rest, but as soon as he realizes it, it’s too late. He’s already there.