Charlie was not having a good day, despite the sunny nature of the weather outside, the somewhat stereotypically legless sheep resembling clouds, and the annoyingly chirpy twittering of birds. It all seemed quite at odds with the irritation that she was experiencing, and the jocular expression on her brother's face was not helping.
"I refuse to believe it," she said, again, quite firmly, as if she would be able to command her wishes to life through her tone alone. "You simply cannot be gay. You must change your mind at once, Ed. Gayness – is that a word? - is simply not respectable. Why, what would mother say?"
Ed, newly gay, sighed somewhat exasperatedly. It was impossible to reason with his little sister when she was like this. He really ought to have gone with the note-on-whiteboard-idea. "It's not a matter of choice, Charles. I can't just flick a switch and turn it off, you know. And mother's dead, so it's a moot question."
His sister eyed him with irritable frustration. "Well, can't you be bi, or something? At least that's fashionable. All the fashionable people are bisexual these days. It's the in thing, I hear."
"Absolutely not," said Ed. "I told you, it's not a choice."
"I just - I simply cannot believe it. You cannot be gay! Why, if you were, I'm sure I'd have known before now. We did grow up together, and all."
"Well," said Ed, eying his sister with a mix of amusement and wryness. "The fact that I never dated and spent an inordinate amount of time in the boy's locker room really ought to have clued you in."
She brushed that off. "Yes, but you were a jock. All jocks do that. Does Harry know, by the way? Anyway, alright, you're gay, though I do wish you'd told me earlier. But we are NOT having your birthday party at a gay bar."
Ed's hands immediately went to his hips. "And why not?" he demanded. He added as an afterthought. "Yes, I do believe Harry knows."
"Because I say so, of course." She paused. "Harry knows? And he never told me? The cad. I shall fire him."
"It is my birthday," he pointed out. "You know you're not going to, Charlie. You never do."
"So?" said Charlie. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I just know I'll eventually find a use for a large butler, though."
"Uh," said Ed. "Well, you know, traditionally, birthdays tend to be focused around, you know, the one who's having the birthday. Not his younger sister."
"It'll be focused around you!" said Charlie, reassuringly. "Just not in a gay bar!"
Ed smiled.
* * *
How, wondered Charlie, on earth was it that she was in a limo, and about to shortly walk into a gay bar with her gay brother? It was really all too surreal to think about properly. She supposed she really ought to have known Ed was gay when she'd walked in on him and Cindy Jones of the DD cups a number of years ago, and had found Cindy somewhat irritably reading a history textbook while Ed was drawing Superman with his underpants on the outside. It had never really occurred to her though, to think that her macho, jocky brother was gay. She sighed. It wasn't really a bad thing, she supposed. It just meant she wouldn't be able to set him up with her single friends anymore, but the shock had simply come on top of a rather horrid day altogether. Her new boss, well, Editor-in-Chief, happened to be something of a jerk, as Charlie had found to her chagrin some few weeks ago. In any case, he'd thrown out her entire article layout this morning, after stomping it to bits and tearing it up, announcing quite blithely that she'd have to rewrite the entire thing. And then to add insult to injury, ordered her to get him coffee, again... Just the thought of it was enough to make her mutter under her breath something about violent maiming.
"What's that?" said Ed beside her. "Who's getting violently maimed?"
"Oh," said Charlie. "You know, that Jack Danvers fellow – my new boss. I think he'd look charming without an arm and a leg. It's rather catchy actually, that line, don't you think? Jack without an arm and a leg..."
"Charlie," said Ed, looking vaguely perturbed. "You really must cease making death threats against your colleagues. It will one day land you with a restraining order, and then where would we be?"
His sister beamed at him. "But you're a lawyer, and clever and all that. You'd get me out."
"I specialize in taxation law," Ed pointed out. "You know restraining orders really aren't my thing."
"Taxation, restraining orders, larceny...it's all law," said Charlie airily. "Who can tell the difference? Anyway, he's not my colleague, he's my boss. I'm sure there's some sort of provision for boss-murder. What would they call it I wonder? Supervisor-cide? How catchy. I do like that. Or perhaps I shall get Harry to beat him up, since you won't."
"Harry wouldn't do such a thing," said her brother. "He's much too proper."
"Won't he? How unsporting of him. I shall fire him. I have no need for such unsporting fellows."
"You will not. And I still don't get what it is you have against Danvers, you know," said Ed. "It seems to me all he did was ask you for a cup of coffee. You overreact a lot, you know. And"
Charlie stiffened, glaring at him. "Overreact?" she demanded. "I absolutely do not overreact! I never overreact. In fact, for your information, I was very calm about the whole thing. I did not even raise my voice, nor throw anything at him. I think I handled it quite well! Besides, it wasn't just the one time. He's treating me like his bloody secretary!"
And he had been, from that very first day she'd found herself with a new Editor in Chief. She'd stepped into his office while he'd been rather busy flicking through some papers. He hadn't even noticed her, at first – she'd had to clear her throat. He'd looked up, then, and smiled...and ah, what a smile, it was. Slightly crooked teeth, but wonderfully white. (Sharks could have white teeth too, Charlie reminded herself.) "Oh, hello," Jack Danvers had said vaguely. She noted that he was younger than she'd originally expected – not over thirty, certainly. "Would you mind getting me some coffee? Black, please, four sugars." Charlie blinked. Coffee? What was she, his bloody secretary? But he'd looked at her expectantly, and so Charlie, much to her chagrin, had left to get the coffee – black, with four sugars. What sort of pansy drank coffee with four sugars anyway?
When she returned, it was to find him still reading. Charlie cleared her throat, and he looked up. "Ah, thanks," he said, going back to his reading. "Just leave it there."
Charlie did as ordered, and then stood for a moment, expectantly. A minute passed before she cleared her throat again. "Er...Mr Danvers?"
He looked up again. "Yes?" his tone was polite, but impatient.
"Er, well, you asked to see me. Sir." She had no idea why she'd tacked on that last part, but something about the situation seemed to call for it.
He seemed perplexed. "I'm sure I didn't."
"You did," Charlie insisted, feeling a frisson of doubt run down her spine. Had the memo on her desk said three pm? She was sure it had...but if it hadn't, she'd have made a colossal fool of herself...
"Excuse me a moment," she blurted out, and dashed out of the room. Racing down the hall she'd skidded to a halt at her office, rushed inside and grabbed up the memo. "Aha!" said Charlie, triumphantly. "It does say 3 pm!" She was aware, quite suddenly, of the raised brows of several of her coworkers. "Oh," she said sheepishly. "Uh...I have a meeting at 3."
"Charlie," said Jenny-from-next-door, "You know it's ten past now, don't you?"
"Oh," said Charlie. "Oh, yes." She half ran back to the office she'd been in a minute ago and held up the little slip of paper. "It was at three." she announced solemnly.
Jack Danvers blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
Shit, she thought. He probably thinks I'm a lunatic. "Well, you wanted to see me at three, sir."
"Oh." He frowned, brows furrowing together. "Who are you again?"
"Charlie Sands, Mr Danvers."
