Lanon swaggered forward to the bouncer. "Indeed. Ms. Marsha said that Ms. Marybelle wanted us to come personally."
"That's a cool story, bro," the python said, reaching for a tablet that was resting on a stool next to him. "But what's the name?"
"Lanon," the iguana smiled.
As the bouncer scrolled away on the tablet, Kev looked up at Fang. He wanted to ask him about Maffa, what had just happened up in The Perch, but with Lanon standing face-to-face with him in the elevator, it just hadn't felt like the right time, regardless of how "kind" Lanon had been by putting the towel over his head.
"I ain't seein' ya," the python said. "That's L-A-N, right?"
"No. It's La-non."
"Yeah, buddy. No one with that name on here. Sorry." The bouncer put the tablet down on the stool and rolled his shoulders. "But you'll have to leave."
"I'm sure we are there," Lanon said, looking back over his shoulder at the others. "I asked Ms. Marsha many times."
"Is it under Fang?" Kev asked.
The bouncer reached back for the tablet and scrolled through it again. "Nope. Sorry, y'all. Maybe next time."
"The invitation was very last minute. I understand how these clerical errors might occur," Lanon said smoothly. "Go and find Ms. Marybelle, and she will verify our invitation. We will wait here."
"Yeah, no." The python crossed his bulging arms.
"It would only take a minute," Lanon pressed. "I am sure she is backstage now, making sure the models are all... visually pleasing."
"Look, bro. The list is the list."
"What about the list excites you?"
"Uh... the tablet has Veggie Samurai on it."
"Enough," Fang said, moving towards the entrance of the main, checkerboard-floored room. "Marybelle is a friend."
"Bro, you're not on the list," the bouncer said, his voice flat.
"The list is wrong," Gretchen stated, planting herself in front of the python.
"Look at you," the bouncer said, his gaze sweeping over Gretchen's suit. "Suits, really? I'll give the lizard bro a pass, but are you trying to be ironic or something? I didn't think you were on the list to start." He uncrossed his arms.
"List?" Gretchen grinned, a slow, predatory smile. "Why do we need our name on some list when Marybelle's name is on us?" The panther woman whipped off her suit jacket and held it up with one hand for the python to see.
"Since when did she make tuxes?" the python said, eyeing the tag closely for authenticity.
"Fang! You really came!" A gecko woman, a whirlwind of vibrant, chaotic energy, strode towards them. She was poured into a tight, orange latex bodysuit that gleamed under the lounge's ambient light. Strapped around her torso and waist were multiple fanny packs of different shapes and sizes, all fashioned together into a bizarre but strangely cohesive vest. A small, slim skirt, fashioned from what looked like a deconstructed windbreaker jacket, sat low on her hips. She was a walking, talking piece of avant-garde fashion.
"Yo, Belle. You make suits?" the python asked, handing the jacket back to Gretchen, who took it and walked back behind Fang, a smirk still on her face.
"It is so very trite, but unfortunately that furry bastard insists on a strict dress code," Marybelle said, turning to Fang again. "You better be on your best behavior, Fang."
"Of course he will be," Lanon said. "I am here to supervise."
"Oh, Lanon, darling!" Marybelle swept over to the iguana-man, and he grasped her hands in a dramatic display.
"Marybelle, it has been so very long," Lanon purred. "You look absolutely intriguing tonight. Now tell me, what about fanny packs excites you?"
"I've missed you so much!" Marybelle squealed. "Oh, do come in!"
"Nice tee-shirt," Kev heard Gretchen say to the bouncer as they walked into the lounge. The backlit floor gave everyone a different look; the up-lighting cast long, dancing shadows on their faces, giving everyone a "flashlight under the chin" campfire horror story look. At least it looks more silly than scary, Kev thought. But Fang was the scary one upstairs. If I hadn't held him back, he would have attacked Maffa.
"I'd love to stay longer and hear more of your questions about my process, but I am actually in a rush," Marybelle patted Lanon's hand, which she had been holding since they'd crossed the room to a large set of double doors. "One of my models is late, and I was hoping she might be out here for some reason."
"Is it Ms. Marsha? She did not put us on the list," Lanon said.
"Marsha's back in the dressing rooms," Marybelle let go of Lanon's hand. "She told me that you and Fang got in an argument and that you might not make it."
"Argument?" Lanon looked back at Fang. "Did we argue?"
Fang looked between Kev and the iguana. "No."
"She must be mistaken," Lanon smiled. "Fang and I have such an exciting relationship, I'm sure it must be confusing for many."
"Well, I'm ecstatic you could make it, love." Marybelle air-kissed the sides of Lanon's cheeks. "Please make sure Fang doesn't cause a scene." She glanced at Kev for a few moments before turning and entering the double doors.
Really? Kev thought. She likes Lanon?
"Gretchen," Fang said, looking around the black and white room, "I'll be back in a bit. Make sure you don't take your eyes off of Kev."
"Of course, boss," Gretchen nodded.
Lanon glanced over from an odd grayscale impressionist painting of two individuals doing something that Kev could only hope was the Heimlich maneuver. "The show starts in twenty minutes. Do not be gone too long."
"I'll be back in five. I mean ten," Fang waved as he walked towards what he hoped were the bathroom doors and not just a black abstract painting of a large rectangle.
Lanon grinned. "I think that means he needs to-"
"Oh, Lanon, it's so good to see you!"
Kev sighed. Once again, someone had cut the iguana off at the perfect time. First Paul upstairs, and now... Kev looked up and didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry.
Approaching them was the frog-woman he'd noticed earlier. Her skin was a slick, mottled green, gleaming under the floor-lights. She was encased head to toe in black leather BDSM gear. Straps and buckles crisscrossed her body, cinching her waist and accentuating her limbs. She wore a full head mask, its leather molded to the shape of her face, with small, circular cutouts for her large, unblinking eyes and a zippered slit for her mouth. Heavy, platform boots with imposing silver buckles added several inches to her height, and a riding crop was tucked neatly into a loop on her hip. She moved with a strange, amphibian grace, the leather creaking with every step.
"I thought that was you," Lanon said cheerfully. "Please, meet my colleagues."
Please no, Kev thought.
"This is Ms. Gretchen. She works in security at the club." Gretchen nodded curtly at the leather-covered frog and went back to gazing around the crowd, Lanon's vouch for the amphibian seemingly putting her at ease. "And this exotic little thing is Mr. Kev. My boss's pet."
Kev's ears burned, but Lanon continued without missing a beat. "This is Ms. Tongue. She actually is one of the suppliers for the club."
"It's nice to meet you two," the frog-woman ribbited, her voice a low, wet sound from behind the mask. "I really appreciate all the business that the club has generated for me."
Finally pulling his glare away from the iguana, Kev gave his best attempt at focusing on the frog. "That's good to hear. What exactly do you sell?"
"Can't you tell?" Lanon grinned. "She provides some of the best therapy devices that can be found in the city."
"What?" Kev said. "I'm a bit lost. Therapy devices?"
"Are you not with the program?" Lanon asked. "Whips, paddles, harnesses, cages, restraints... she has helped me outfit many of the private rooms in the west wing."
"Oh, Lanon, he didn't know," Ms. Tongue said. "I own a tannery, and we make all sorts of leather products. I'm actually here trying to do a bit of guerrilla marketing." She winked one of her large, dark eyes.
Kev chuckled. "That's actually a good idea. I'm sure you'll get a lot of people taking your picture."
"Picture?" the leathery frog questioned. "Didn't you sign the waiver? This is a flash fashion event. You've got to be here to see any of the outfits."
"Oh, I never read those things," Kev grinned. "We can't take pictures?"
"No recording devices of any type," she said seriously. "That muscle-head at the elevator isn't the only security they have."
"Do they have a physical altercation clause?" Gretchen asked, glancing over, her interest piqued.
"They add those into everything now," Tongue sighed, and turned back to Kev. "So, you're the legendary Mr. Fang's assistant. That must be quite the job."
"Yeah," Kev nodded. Maybe the frog-woman wasn't so bad. He was turned off by her outfit and the fact she seemed to like Lanon, but other than that, she seemed very normal. "Fang is an... exciting guy."
Lanon smiled. "Ms. Tongue, could I bother you to make something?"
"I can't right now, but of course." She grinned through her mask and turned to Lanon. "What's up with the sudden request?"
"Oh, Kev here has told me he has not gone out shopping yet," Lanon purred. "I thought he might need something... of a therapeutic nature... now that he is living in the club."
Kev frowned as Lanon smiled at him and continued, "Maybe you would like a flogger? Or a gag? Maybe cuffs?"
"No," Kev balled his fists. "Cut it out."
"Oh ho! A swing?" Lanon raised an eyebrow. "But of course. You want Mr. Fang to join you."
"Shut up, Lanon," Kev managed not to shout, but he had finally had his fill of the probing questions and leading comments. "I don't care what sort of weird shit you do for Fang. I don't care that he pays some creepy, piano-molesting iguana to be a pimp. But if you keep bringing up Fang and my relationship, I'll get upset."
Lanon just tilted his head. "Pimp?"
"I, uh... I'll talk to you two later," Ms. Tongue quickly excused herself. "I really do appreciate the business." And with that, she scurried away into the crowd.