Apricot.

Constantine is a man. He is only a few years older than Sienna Montgomery. He has thick, dark hair that curls and seems to matte around his face; it is Joker-like. He has a wide, unconcerned smile. His eyes are a rich brown. His body is lithe and strong; he is built.

Kamika and Garnet go by their civilian names, Jessa and Tuesday. Garnet is hesitant to grant me this knowledge; I know now that those are their real first names. They are strangely commonplace. When Constantine asks my name, I tell him “Sienna”. It tastes good in my mouth, better than any other name has.

Garnet immediately orders two Manhattans. She slides one over to me, eyes cast away, almost abashed. “You'll like it.”

I do.

While Constantine shakes Kamika's martini, I watch his strong arms, and he watches me.

As the night darkens and speckles, he smiles often at me, though I am the least talkative along the bar. He leans casually on it as orders occasionally shoot at him; it is not horribly busy. Kamika and Garnet sit on either side of me and chat amiably. By their body language, they both desire Constantine, sexually. I understand why.

Constantine is not the only man looking at me. Garnet assures me, pointedly and tersely, that it is only because I am “new meat, barely butchered” that I should receive these lustful glimpses. Kamika pats my shoulder and smiles. She tells me I am beautiful, and that is why the men look at me. Constantine agrees.

Gwendoline and Dan are not present: they have appointments tonight. The notion brings my constant worries bubbling to the surface. How could I do this? Why am I comfortable with this, where did I get this courage?

This foolishness?

It is one hour into January 24th. The bar is emptying, and I am sobering. “Shots all around!” yells Kamika, and Constantine chuckles, yielding tiny glasses. We drink more. I am ostensibly tolerant; a trait from my mother.

Kamika is red in the face; it is a strange but comely attribute on a dark-skinned woman. Garnet has retired to grumbling into her rum at another table. “...If Phoenix is redder than me, then by God, I'm redder than you...”

Constantine laughs as Garnet approaches me on stumbling stilettos. “At least I can smile,” she tells me. “At least I'm happy. Happier than you are. I have to be. I am. At least I talk.”

“I talk.”

“Prove it.”

“I'm talking right now.”

“Yes, Sienna, but you're all spaced out and complacent like you'd tell me the same things if I were a wall. Your voice is like helium stretched over water. Do you ever really say anything?”

Constantine grins. “She conveys a message without a single word, Tuesday. That's enough talking for me.”

“Sure, her body language is okay, but she looks like a deer – a deer in headlights, a doe, a deer, a female deer – ” Garnet smiles as her eyes flutter closed. “Who pays to fuck a deer?” she drawls.

Constantine laughs, and I know that he classifies Garnet's words as drunken tangents. Kamika has become sober enough to shoot Garnet a glare, and Garnet stops talking. “It's getting late, Sienna. Let's cart Tuesday home.”

“Just about closing time anyway, I reckon. You girls need a ride?” Constantine asks, his voice low like the blues.

“No, some night air would do this jewel some good.” Kamika and I hull Garnet up. My arms slip around her little waist, and her right arm reaches for my shoulder. I quickly remove my shoes to try to accommodate her height. Kamika takes Garnet's other side.

“Then it's goodnight.” Constantine shakes Kamika's available hand, ruffles Garnet's voluminous hair, and nicks me on the chin. There is a diamond in his eye when he smiles and says “Sleep well, Sienna.” I look up at him – he is taller now, when I am barefooted.

“Goodnight.”

By the time we waltz home, I am much less mesmerized. When we finally reach the apartment, there is a red storm brewing. A fire engine-haired woman is screaming at us as we wrestle ourselves through the door.

“Apparently it's perfectly polite to just fuck off to a bar and leave me at home with a fucking mut! Do we have no rules anymore? I thought we said no pets and no fucking crackwhores –” Phoenix sneers at me. “We all know you're from Babylon. Apparently anyone can be a prostitute now.”

“Yeah, Phoenix, that's the idea.”

“Like Hell she'll be a top earner like me –” Phoenix's best attributes are her legs. She parades around the kitchen in black lace lingerie with a thin, transparent veil over her body.

“You're not a top earner. You get the shit beat out of you, and I'd pay to beat the shit out of you too. You're all bruised. You come home with blood on your gloves, Phoenix, and why you wear gloves while you fuck, I will never know. Dan is the top earner, so fuck off –” slurs Garnet, still leaning into me.

“I thought this was safe –” I find my whispers urgent.

“It is, it is – Gwendoline and Phoenix take the weird clients. They're the only ones who come home hurt, and not always. Besides, they might be... into that.” Kamika whispers back. “They're the professionals, anyway. Island will never give you a client you won't be prepared for.”

Phoenix is caught off guard by what Garnet said, and by our whispers. Her emerald eyes cloak with secrecy and she changes the subject quickly; I find she will always have something to complain about. “Honestly, what the fuck is that?” She hisses as Thor cowers in a corner. “Who the fuck let a dog in here? I'm allergic –”

“No you're not, Phoenix. Go lay down.”

“Don't tell me what to do, Chocolate Chip.”

“For the love of God, Phoenix, I'm Egyptian – ”

As they fight, I slip by and wheel Garnet to the couch. I attempt to lean her down and onto it, but we become imbalanced and she opens her eyes when I fall on top of her. I am surprised to see she does not push me off, only looks up at me. Her eyes are a frothy hazel. She caresses my face. “A pretty deer, at least. I'll teach you, Doe. How to fuck like a lioness.” She rubs her smeared lips on mine. Distantly, I hear Phoenix spout lesbian slurs, and I hear her tell Kamika to tell Dan that he's sleeping on the couch if or when he comes home: because her door will be locked tonight. From me.

I get up and take Thor into my room. After feeding him, I strip and peel off my lashes. Kamika enters, exhausted, and before she passes out entirely, she tells me Island left a message and that I have an appointment on Tuesday next. Tomorrow, I am to pick up my birth control pills from Aphrodite.

I am sex, I am sold.

It is done.