The amethyst sports car pulled into the rear parking lot of a large, spacious plaza, with a few stores and a well-off looking restaurant. The sign on the front of the restaurant said ‘Summer and Autumn’s’ with the address stating that it was in Prince’s Plaza, exactly as Razor had stated earlier. Beside it on the right was a flower boutique, called ‘Millie’s Mistletoe’, and on the other was ‘Café Amazonia’, a small coffee house with those fancy coffee drinks and the funny named sizes.
Stepping out of the car, Razor adjusts the hem of her blouse and pops open the trunk of the car and lifts out four portable propane tanks with ease, as though they weighed nothing more than her day’s conquest from the shopping trip. Shutting the trunk with a gentle push from the bottom of one of the tanks she started whistling some pop music hit of the week and slowly made her way to the back entrance of the restaurant.
Pulling the door open, and picking up half her load again, she makes her way into the kitchen and almost gets hit by a flying knife. Pulling her head from the trajectory, causing the knife to slam into the wall beside her, she hears a high feminine voice from the direction the knife came from.
“About time, Summer was beginning to wonder about you.” A girl with darker purple hair stood, hands on her shapely curving hips.
“Afternoon Summer, I got caught up in traffic so pardon the wait.” She said looking the other woman up and down.
The woman’s eyes having an odd mix of the same green as Razor’s and a deep red, the red seeming to glow when she was upset, narrowed more, “Razor lucky she’s the eldest or Summer not miss.”
“Calm down Sis,” Razor connected one of the tanks to an emergency valve in the line and stood up, “You’re talking in the third person again.”
Taking a deep breath Summer nodded, and crossed her arms under her ample chest, “Yes I am and yet do you know why I’m mad? Maybe because it was your job to open up today but you had me do it instead, and then everything goes wrong.”
Razor walked to her sister and took her hands in her own, “Do you really think I knew this would happen?”
“No,” Summer sighed softly, “But it makes me feel better to think you did.”
“Of course it does, but I’m here now with the new cocktail dress you wanted. It’s out in the car, but you have to show me how we’ve been holding up with no propane to light the fire for the grills.”
In the next room, still within the kitchen area few cooks bustled around stoves that were sizzling and popping from grease and oil. Amidst the buzzing of orders being called back and served up, in the center of the floor sat a woman, her legs crossed and her eyes closed, with her arms to the side and what looked to be a red light dancing across her fingertips. Her face and body structure matched Summer’s finely sculpted features exactly. The only difference came in her shorter hair held a white stripe off to her right side and was a few inches longer than the rest of her shoulder length bob haircut. Her mouth was drawn as though fatigued, and yet the reddish flame like energies continued to undulate across her fingers.
Suddenly one of the cooks sniffed and shouted happily, “You can stop now Ms. Autumn. It seems the gas is back.”
Her hands dropping to her side, Autumn smiled solemnly and looked up at Razor and Summer who had walked into the room, “Oh there’s the negligent prince. Shirking her duties to run off and do other things.”
Razor shrugged, “Actually, my first thing for today was greet the Anolian ambassador and show him around the capital, to which we went around, saw the town, and then had lunch. Then Summer asked me to pick up matching cocktail dresses for some clubbing, or something tonight.
“And since there are only two sets royal identical twins in the kingdom right now, and one pair isn’t nearly as endowed as the other, I think someone else is going to shirk her duties ehhh?”
Autumn smiled at her twin as she stood up and ran a hand through her shorter hair, “Well I also wasn’t even supposed to work today, I will have you know.”
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Sighing Razor walked through the kitchen and into an office, and proceeded to sit down in the desk chair and crosses her legs at the knee, “I was only supposed to open and turn management over to that green haired girl, Flora or Fauna or something like that. This is why I stopped running the place. All the diplomatic stuff that dad has me running around and doing.”
Walking in behind her Autumn sits in a chair across the desk, the fatigued look still lingering on her face, “You are his heir and all, so it makes sense.”
“Yeah, if he actually had ever done the stuff himself and not had an official of some sort do it.”
Entering just behind her sister, Summer leans against the door jam, “And it’s Flora by the way. Although you really should remember it, Ms-photographic-memory.”
“It’s not photographic. It’s hyperthymesia, or at least like it.” Razor looked at Summer.
“Not much of a difference if ya ask me.” Autumn said.
“There is quite a difference,” Razor looked back and forth between her younger sisters, “With a photographic, yes you can remember things seeing or hearing them once. However you still have a normal memory where older memories fade with time. My perfect memory takes it one step further, mine don’t fade at all. I remember everything, every minute detail since before I should be able to remember. Although I wonder why I am explaining this to the two of you who know how my mind works.”
Autumn giggles, “Because of that you remember that all four of your younger sisters will pester you about it until you repeat it, over and over.”
“And so,” Summer continued her twin’s sentence, “You know to stop us, you tell us the same thing time and time again.”
Razor rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well it seems like pointless exposition if ya ask me. Explaining stuff we all know.”
Summer nodded, “Probably is, but hey, we aren’t doing much.”
“You should be managing the floor.”
“Ehh,” Autumn shrugs, “You know the place practically runs itself.”
“Yet, we still need a manager around.” Razor thrusts herself up to her feet and raises her arms above her head in a stretch, “Speaking of the floor I have a date tonight and want to torment the poor guy, so I think I’ll work the floor.”
Summer tips her head to the side, “a date? With a guy? Now that’s even more a surprise from you dear sister.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know even I can find a guy handsome or cute, or just plain pathetic in this case.” A diabolic grin spread across Razor’s face, “Though a sumptuous female form beneath you moaning in sheer pleasure is always a good way to wind down a day.” She said before spinning the chair around and picking up a T picture from the desk and staring down into it a sudden distant look on her face.
Across the town in the outskirts, stood a normal average sized house, pale grey with dark green shutters and a decently trimmed lawn in the front. Inside the house, Herro stood before a mirror dressed only in a pair of fleece boxers, the overhead light dimmed down almost off with a dimmer and an abundance of candles, lit and filling the air with a light watermelon scent, his hands full with a hairbrush and a can of hairspray.
Flipping the hair that was over the right side of his face up to reveal a long ragged scar over his eye and down his cheek, Herro groans, “The first date is too early to show her this, but doing nothing will make me look like a slob.”
Spraying the hairspray around he uses the brush and flattens his hair and makes it a very smoothed down, slicked back version of his original hairstyle. Turning his head from side to side he nods and sets the hairspray back down onto a marbled countertop, littered with a few cosmetics and a matching pair of blue and pink razors.
“I guess this’ll have to do. I have to find this place early, since I don’t think she needs anymore reason not to go out with me.” Herro sighs, “I’ll just die alone”
Walking out of the bathroom and into a fairly large bedroom for the size of the house, Herro pulls a pale blue button up shirt off a hanger and walks to a set up ironing board where a black pair of dress slacks are already sitting, having been ironed first. He sets the shirt down and slowly but thoroughly irons every wrinkle out in a slightly obsessive fashion. Putting the shirt on, he walks to a full length mirror and looks at himself in the reflection. Nodding slowly, he picks up the pants and slides into them, before pulling a black pair of socks onto his feet.
Starting out of his bedroom and into the adjacent kitchen, Herro sighed again, his lack of confidence showing through, “This is so going to be a long night. Either I will end it alone and the rest of the night will drag, or that aggressive she-beast will manage to keep an interest in me long enough for me to get some, and that one will end up with me in the hospital for broken bones.”
He picks up a small mug filled with what appears to be coffee and takes a long sip before pouring it down the drain and picking up a nice leather jacket and slips it on as he walks out the door, “I have an idea. I should become a monk. They don’t have problems with women. They neither want them nor get abused by them. I think I’ll do that.”
Getting into his pride and joy, despite its condition, an old 1980 Pontiac Firebird, Herro turns the key, only to have the engine roll over once and stop. Shaking his head and muttering no over and over, Herro tries again and after three failed attempts the engine roars to life. With a sigh of relief he sits back in the seat and takes a deep breath, before shifting into drive and pulling out onto the deserted roadway, hitting a deep pothole that had formed in front of his driveway.