Thick as Thieves - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Valerie Jones and Lori McDonald
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 7

Bobby adjusted the bowtie at his throat one more time and tried to ignore Gambit, who was grinning at him with all the cheerful menace of the Cheshire Cat. He had the horrible suspicion that he looked like a high school kid on his way to the prom. He felt like a high school kid on his way to the prom. Complete with horse- sized butterflies in his stomach and sweaty palms. But it was Saturday night, and they were less than twenty feet from the door to the club, and hopefully, Diedre.

"So, does this place have a name? I feel like a dope just calling it `The Club' all the time," Bobby said.

Gambit glanced back over his shoulder at him as they descended the stairs. "Don' got another name." He shrugged. "You ever meet anybody dat don' know what y' talkin' about, dey too small-time for y' t' be botherin' wit."

Too small-time for me to be bothering with. Bobby rolled the words around in his head. They were. . . exhilarating. But then all other thoughts were banished as they reached the door to the Club, and Bobby found himself facing his favorite goon squad. The larger of the two nodded at Gambit.

"Mr. LeBeau. Mr. Drake." Then he stepped aside and resumed his perfect pose.

Bobby tried not to stare as he followed Gambit past the two men. Mr. Drake? At Gambit's say-so, he'd suddenly become Mr. Drake?

They passed through the coat check room, and a different girl smiled at them. Bobby barely noticed her. His eyes were fastened on the far door. This was it.

The noise hit him like a hammer, despite the fact that he'd been expecting it this time. The scene was identical to the one he'd been confronted with before, except that his attention was immediately drawn to the bar in the hopes of spying a certain pale face at the end of the long black counter. To his supreme disappointment, he didn't see her.

"Bobby." Gambit nudged him to get his attention. He turned. "Go find y' ladyfriend, eh? I've got some t'ings t' take care of, maybe take an hour. You jus' stay low an' keep y' mouth shut, non? Anybody give y' trouble, y' send `em t' me."

Bobby could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to bristle, and Gambit seemed to sense it. He caught Bobby's elbow. The expression in his eyes was fierce. "You're riskin' my life here too, boy. Don' forget it."

Bobby nodded, sobered. "Got it." He'd never really thought that it was dangerous, what Gambit was doing bringing him here. But he had to admit that he really didn't know what the people here were like.

He made his way toward the bar, trying to look casual. He still couldn't see Diedre anywhere. He paused to watch a couple of spins of the waist-high roulette wheel, wondering if he dared place a bet. Then he realized that he didn't have the faintest idea how much any of the chips were worth, nor what the true rules of the game might be. The only roulette he'd ever played had been at his parent's church's Casino Night.

"Black twelve," said a voice over his shoulder. Bobby turned in surprise to find a young man with long, sandy blond hair standing behind him.

"What?"

"Black twelve," he repeated, and as he did, the white marble settled into the appropriately marked groove.

"How did you know that?"

The young man tapped his temple and smiled. "It's my power. I can predict statistical occurances. The wheel's not rigged, so I always know."

"You're a mutant?" Bobby wasn't certain why he was surprised. Gambit had warned him that there would be a lot of mutants.

"Of course. Just like you." He held out his hand. "Alexi Markeno."

"Bobby Drake." He returned the handshake.

Alexi nodded. "LeBeau's apprentice. I know."

"You do?"

Alexi chuckled. "Everybody knows who you are. We don't get too many new faces."

Bobby found himself looking around sureptitiously, which elicited another chuckle from the young man beside him. Alexi clapped him on the shoulder.

"Have you met Michael yet?"

"No." The thought made Bobby a little nervous. Gambit had told him about Michael, and had been very explicit that Bobby was to keep his distance. He hadn't painted Michael in a very kind light.

"Well, c'mon. I'll introduce you." Alexi grabbed him by the coat sleeve and began dragging him toward the far side of the immense room. Not certain how to resist, Bobby followed him.

"Michael's my mentor," Alexi explained as they wove their way through the crowd. There was a clear note of pride in his voice. "He's a Master thief-- the only one in the city."

"Except Gambit," Bobby reminded him obliquely.

Alexi shrugged. "Yeah, well, Gambit's something of a rogue. He doesn't have a guild."

Bobby grinned at the unintentional play on words, but decided that he'd never be able to explain. And he had yet to figure out this emphasis on "guilds" and "clans". Remy had tried to explain-- somewhat, at least, but to Bobby it all sounded like so much gobbledegook.

They managed to wind their way to a small raised area off to the side of the giant television screens. Small round tables were scattered about in imitation of a small cafe. Bobby was only slightly surprised to see that a real rose decorated each glass-topped table. The tables were mostly filled, and Alexi led him toward the center of the crowd.

Bobby identified Michael while they were still a good ten feet away from his table. He looked exactly like the predator Gambit had described him to be. His hair was jet black and slicked back to reveal a sharp widow's peak. His eyes were just as dark, and reminded Bobby of a hawk's. But it was the woman seated beside Michael that caught his attention and held it in an iron grip. Diedre. She was dressed in a blue so deep that it seemed darker than Michael's black suit. Her lips were blood red, and a small voice inside Bobby cried out that it was all wrong, wrong. The colors were an abuse of her delicate beauty, covering her like bruises.

As he took the last few steps, Michael leaned over and kissed Diedre's bared shoulder. Bobby felt like his heart had suddenly turned to stone. Diedre smiled at Michael with those awful lips, but it was a thin, tired expression. Then Michael looked up, taking in his guests with a single glance. His gaze fixed on Bobby, who found himself skewered by one of the most frightening stares he'd ever encountered. In a sudden moment of epiphany, Bobby realized that there was nothing remotely human in the heart of this man. He couldn't say how he knew it or why, but the conviction grabbed hold of him and refused to let go. To see Diedre even sitting next to him was disturbing. To think that she might be with him. . . He shoved the thought aside and tried to hold on to his composure. For perhaps the first time in his life, Bobby desperately wished that he had Gambit at his back. Gambit, who had more than enough arrogance to absorb Michael's deadly stare.

Alexi was completely oblivious to Bobby's thoughts. He greeted Michael with cheerful cameraderie. Michael returned the greeting in a more restrained manner and then rose, proferring his hand.

"You must be Bobby."

Bobby nodded and shook his hand. He forced himself to meet Michael's eyes instead of the pair of pale blue ones beside him. Diedre was watching him intently, her expression unreadable. And in a moment of pure terror, Bobby wondered if he'd completely misread her at the library. But he'd been so sure of what he thought had passed between them.

"Uh, it's a pleasure to meet you. Sir." Bobby managed through a dry throat. Michael chuckled.

"Michael is fine. Please, sit down." He gestured toward the empty chair that occupied a spot at their table. Bobby did so, as Alexi pulled over a chair from another table and settled next to him. Bobby wasn't sure whether to be grateful or annoyed by Alexi's somewhat posessive demeanor. It was almost as if Alexi were a pup bringing a prize to lay at his master's feet.

Michael gestured toward Diedre. "This is my wife, Didi."

Bobby swallowed convulsively, but managed to keep his expression still. "It-- it's nice to meet you."

She ducked her head shyly, but didn't speak. Michael glanced at her appraisingly, then seemed to decide that that was introduction enough. He turned back to Bobby.

"Now." Michael picked up his drink. "Tell me about yourself."

Bobby blinked at him and tried not to panic. This was exactly what Gambit had told him not to do. He didn't have any idea what to say. He couldn't exactly tell Michael about the X-Men. Or about Diedre for that matter.

"Uh, what do you want to know?" A waiter came by at that moment, rescuing him for a few precious seconds that he needed to think. He ordered a beer-- that Hefeweizen that had started all of this. Then he answered Michael.

"I grew up in Maine -- kind of a middle class, ordinary place. I came to New York because I didn't want to live that kind of life." Well, that was nice and vague, at least, he thought sourly.

Michael nodded. "How did you meet Remy?"

Bobby thought furiously. "He was sort of a friend of a friend." Which was even true, since Storm was his friend and she was the one who had brought Gambit to the X-Men. "She just brought him home with her one day."

Michael chuckled knowingly, and Bobby mentally patted himself on the back for such a creative use of the truth.

"You and she were lovers?" Michael asked, and Bobby nearly choked on his beer at the blunt question.

"Uh, no." He searched for some more of that creative truth. "Just roomates."

"Ah." Michael's gaze wandered for a moment, drifting out over the sea of people. Bobby took advantage of the brief lack of attention to glance at Diedre. He so very much wanted to ask her if he was being a complete fool-- if there was any real reason for him to be there. But she was inscrutable, her gaze locked on the table before her. She seemed so. . . lifeless here that it scared him. He wanted to reach over and shake her until she reacted to him.

"So what's your power, Bobby?" Alexi asked suddenly. Bobby had almost forgotten he was there.

"My power?" he replied cautiously. There weren't many places in the world where mutants would discuss their abilities openly.

Alexi nodded vigorously. "You are a mutant, aren't you? I can't imagine Gambit taking on someone who wasn't."

Michael's attention returned to them. His expression was curious. Bobby glanced between them and then, finally, over to Diedre.

"I'm a mutant," he admitted.

Michael did not look surprised. He leaned back, somehow seeming to lounge in the straight-backed chair. "Perhaps a small demonstration?" he suggested.

Bobby stiffened. The words were casual, but the challenge beneath them was unmistakable. Michael wanted to know what he had. Bobby considered him, his stomach tightening. What could he do? Build an ice statue on the table? But that would hardly impress Michael. And he didn't think that ice slides or barriers would do it either, despite their size. Maybe just going ice himself, right there? But that, a tiny voice inside told him, might be giving too much away.

He stared at the table, mind rushing, and finally settled on the ice statue. But just as he was about to begin, inspiration struck. He'd been working hard on his abilities and done a lot of sculpting lately. Why not do something really astounding?

Ice exploded in a thick column directly behind Michael's chair. It grew rapidly, branching out as it reached toward the twenty-foot ceiling. Michael looked up in surprise as the heavy column of white became a dragon that spread irridescent wings of ice and reared back, raising clawed talons to strike down at the man beneath it. Then, just as quickly, it flowed into a new position, lowering its body and dropping its wings to wrap gently around Michael in a protective cloak. Michael did not move as the crystalline wings enfolded him.

Bobby bit his lip as he concentrated on building the image his mind saw. It was probably the most intricate thing he'd ever done, especially to change it so fast. He held the ice dragon in its final pose for just a moment, then released the moisture back into the air with a sigh of relief. The dragon simply evaporated in a cloud of white.

Stunned silence greeted his display, making the loud music seem even more garish. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Michael's face and he began to applaud Bobby in a measured rhythm. Soon, the people crowded around them joined in, and for the first time in his life, Bobby found himself the object of an ovation. He blushed hotly and looked away from Michael, only to find himself staring directly into Diedre's eyes. They were full of amazement and wonder, and her unguarded smile was brilliant. Bobby knew in that instant that he would do whatever he had to to see that expression on her face again. It didn't matter that she was married. Not if her husband didn't make her glow like that.

A hand closed on Bobby's shoulder, startling him. He looked up to find Gambit watching him, his expression vaguely disapproving. "Y' showin' off, Bobby?" he asked casually.

"Hello, Remy," said Michael. Bobby did not miss his sudden coolness.

"Michael." Gambit nodded in acknowledgement of the other man. It was about like standing in the middle of two circling lions, Bobby thought. He wondered if he shouldn't find a way to get out from between the two before the charged cards started flying.

Gambit nudged him. "Let's go. We got t'ings t' do tonight."

Uncertain whether to be disappointed or relieved, Bobby rose from the table. He managed to make the proper goodbyes without stumbling over them, and began to turn away when a soft voice stopped him.

"Do you--" Diedre glanced at her husband. "Do you think I could learn to do that?" Her eyes were alight.

Bobby stared at Michael, not knowing if the question had been aimed at himself or the other man. His throat had gone dry, to the point where he almost hoped it was Michael who would answer. But Michael remained silent, his expression unreadable. Finally, Bobby shrugged in what he hoped was a casual manner.

"All it takes is practice. But I'd be happy to show you," he couldn't help but look to Michael, "if it's all right."

Michael cocked his head and frowned. "We can talk about it later." The words were stiff and Diedre deflated. "Nice meeting you, Bobby," he added a moment later.

Bobby turned away with a chill, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into. Gambit had warned him that these people would tear him apart if they ever found out he was a fake. Now, he believed it.