The audience roared with applause. They apparently thought Gretchen's dive off the stage was part of the show.
Kev stared. Gretchen, in her golden metal bikini and Valkyrie helm, had Elle completely pinned. The elephant-woman was sprawled out on her stomach, her elegant red dress now rumpled, one arm pinned expertly behind her back. Kev thought she looked like a bizarre, furred version of Princess Leia. Elle was stunned, her earlier poise completely shattered.
"This woman was recording you, Mr. Fang," Gretchen said, her voice a low, steady growl, without glancing up.
Fang, still a bit confused from waking, turned in his seat to see what was going on. "What are you doing here?" he said as his eyes landed on the elephant. With a sigh, he said, "Let her go."
Gretchen released her grip. The elephant-woman stood and fixed her dress before looking in her bag for something, her movements quick and frantic.
"Looking for this?" Gretchen held up a small, sleek digital audio recorder and turned around, handing it to Fang.
As Fang took the audio recorder from Gretchen, the house lights flicked on in the room, harsh and sudden, causing them all to jump. They turned to see Marybelle storming down the runway towards them, her fists clenched, her two assistants cowering by the curtains. The audience was silent. They didn't know what was going on, why the artist herself was parading down the runway now, looking so heated. She quickly made it to the end of the stage and glared down.
"I'll be right back, sir," Gretchen said to Fang. The panther woman, in her full Valkyrie bath time cosplay, easily jumped up onto the runway next to Marybelle and took her hand. Gretchen raised the gecko's hand high overhead and shot a glance over at the AV DJ, who was watching. Like a professional, he was ready. He quickly pulled the track into a soaring, dramatic climax.
The audience went wild. They erupted in thunderous applause and cheering, their confusion instantly transformed into enthusiastic appreciation for the unexpected finale. They were on their feet, whistling and shouting. Marybelle was still glaring at Fang, but the repeated shouts of "BRAVO! BRAVO!" from Lanon pulled her attention. A reluctant, then genuine, smile broke through her anger.
The other models came back out on the stage. They had clearly been watching from the monitors backstage. They strutted out, a final, chaotic procession of frills, latex, bamboo, and BDSM gear, their earlier professional poise replaced by wide, infectious grins. They lined up behind Marybelle and Gretchen, taking a deep, collective bow as the applause washed over them.
After the applause finally died down, the models returned backstage, and the audience began to filter out, buzzing with excitement from the memorable and unconventional show.
"What in the world were you thinking?" Marybelle approached the group at the foot of the runway, her voice a low, furious hiss. Gretchen trailed behind. "I told you not to make a scene, Fang!"
The wolf's ears flicked back. "What? I was sle- I was just enjoying the clothes party."
"I don't care what excuses you have!" Marybelle said. "This was my night to shine, and, as always, you come in like a trash comet and hit a playground full of downtrodden orphans!"
"That's..." Fang tried to say.
"And not the pickpocket type of orphans! The 'heart of gold' orphans!" Marybelle put her hand to her forehead. "No matter where you are, you're a magnet for trouble."
"The woman in the red dress," Gretchen finally interjected, pointing at the elephant woman, who had been slowly slinking away towards the double doors. "She was recording during your flash fashion event."
"What?!" Marybelle yelled. "This bitch is toast! Let me get a look at the woman who I'm gonna sue into oblivion!" The gecko stomped up to Elle, who had frozen on the spot at the words. "Do I know you? Are you that reporter for The Gazette?"
"I thought she looked familiar," Lanon said with a grin. "I love reading all about the city gossip. She really gets the most... salacious stories."
Marybelle's eyes narrowed. "Well, Ms. Journalist, you're not on the invite list."
"Oh, but... I, uh..." Elle's eyes glanced over at the roided-out anaconda-man, who was attempting to direct traffic out of the double doors. "I really enjoyed the whole thing! I'm going to go type up a rave review! It was so..." Elle shot a glare at the Viking goddess, "...interactive."
"Oh, really?" Marybelle raised an eyebrow. "If my competitors read about it, I'll be seeing cheap knock-offs in a week."
"Oh, Ms. Marybelle," Elle raised her hands, hoping the gecko would let her leave without being dragged away by the bouncers. She hated being dragged away by bouncers. "My descriptions could never match the... sheer impact... of the show. I could really convey the true feeling of your forceful and decisive designs." Elle looked past the gecko to the Valkyrie, who stood unabashed in her golden bra. "So who are you? Some sort of ultra-model, no doubt. That elbow drop was textbook."
Gretchen grinned. "It's all in the jump."
"Well, Fang," Marybelle turned to the wolf, a hint of grudging approval in her voice. "I thought it was you causing a racket. Those meetings you have with Lanon seem to have helped."
Fang's ears flicked back. "Not in front of the nosey elephant."
"Hey!" Elle said, her trunk twitching. "That's not nice, Fang."
"Listening in on my associates now?" Fang growled, holding up the recording device and crushing it in his paw before sprinkling the plastic and metal pieces into the elephant's open handbag. "Why don't you find someone else to bother?"
"Ha!" Elle laughed. "Like I'd give up my golden goose. Maybe I won't have a story for the front page tomorrow, but now that you're out on the streets again, I'll be on you like paint on a wall."
Kev sighed. This night out had been way too much. Dinner, seeing Maffa, Lanon being a pimp-doctor prescribing sex like antibiotics, and now an investigative journalist who seemed to know Fang... it needed to end. "Hey bro!" Kev shouted, waving at the anaconda-man. "This woman isn't on the list!"
The anaconda-man's head snapped up. "That chick isn't on the list?! Hey, bro! We got a 'code not on the list'!"
Elle looked around. "What? Wait, the show's already over, though! Marybelle, I'm going to write a glowing review!"
"I know, darling. My ideas really are the best," Marybelle said as the bouncers approached. "But as they say, the list is the list."
The python-man and the anaconda-man grabbed the elephant and began to drag her off. As she was turned, Fang put his arm over Kev. "Oh my god, you're..." Elle's eyes widened with realization. "You're with Fang! There's no way! The city needs to know this! What did you say you were called again, a muneman?! Oh, let me talk to you more!" Her cries faded out quickly once they managed to get her past the double doors.
Once the exclaiming elephant had been removed, Fang waved at Marybelle with his free hand. "Wonderful clothes party, Marybelle, but I need to get back to the club now. I hope you have a great rest of your evening."
Marybelle grabbed Fang's suit and rubbed the fabric between her fingers. The suit, Kev now noticed, was a classic cut, a bit broader in the shoulders and more generous in the leg than the current, tighter fashions. The charcoal and silver checkerboard pattern, while striking, was subtle, more of a traditional tweed than a bold, modern graphic. "You're due for an update soon," she declared. "These are styles from years back."
"Marybelle, I like the classics," Fang said. He gently took her hand from his suit and kissed it. "You are a busy woman. I will only bug you when it is necessary."
Marybelle looked at Kev, then back at Fang, and said, a hint of genuine affection in her voice, "I'm glad you haven't scared him off yet, you crazy wolf."
Fang grinned. "How can you scare off a ghost?"
They left through the double doors, back into the now-less-crowded lobby. Kev saw some of the models out interacting with the remaining guests, their avant-garde outfits a striking sight against the monochrome backdrop. A few waiters walked around with trays holding tall, thin glasses of what looked like champagne.
Kev sighed as Lanon directed them towards Ms. Marsha, still in her sunhat, and Ms. Tongue, still in her leather straps and face mask. "What a wonderful show, Ms. Marsha! You did absolutely brilliantly!" Lanon opened his arms and walked forward, receiving a hug from the nearly naked equine. "And how do you know Ms. Tongue here?" Lanon asked after stepping back.
"Oh, we just met," Marsha said with a smile. "How about you? How did you meet?"
"Oh, through work," Lanon said with a grin. "She really has the best craftsmen at her disposal."
As Kev watched Lanon laugh and chat away with the ladies, he felt a twinge of guilt. Not for Lanon, of course. Just because Lanon had somehow made prostitution legal through complex medical billing didn't mean Kev agreed with it. But, unfortunately, Kev did understand the reality: the private rooms made a lot of money. He didn't have to like Lanon, but he didn't have to hate him either.
"I had just asked Mr. Kev earlier for Ms. Tongue to make him something," Lanon said, "but when he began thinking of enjoying a swing with Fang, he got too excited."
"Oh really? Swings are so cute!" Marsha said. "That sounds like a fun date."
"You know," Kev said, "I'd like to apologize, Ms. Tongue. I didn't mean to upset you earlier, and your willingness to make me something really is so generous. I think I know what I want you to make me."
The words pulled Lanon's attention suddenly. He put his reptilian hand up, blocking Ms. Marsha's face as he listened to Kev's words.
"I thought of all the things that excited me," Kev started.
Lanon leaned in.
"I need something a bit rugged. I'm gonna use it indoors and outdoors."
Lanon walked over and stood next to where Kev and the frog were chatting privately.
"I want something that will help my posture when I'm playing with myself."
"Oh ho!" Lanon said, his tail flicking rapidly.
"...I'd really love it if you could make me a guitar strap."