Fidessa (Act IV)

The music’s loud. Jo in her leering devil T-shirt slumps in the dark red booth, laying her head back against the pillowy vinyl. Ysabel slides in next to her, her heavy black hair swinging as she leans over the table. Roland leans his sword against the table and slides into the booth across from them, ripping open the velcro of his fingerless gloves. A woman’s voice is singing about how you can make dew into diamonds, and pacify the lions, but you know you can never love me more. Roland tugs his gloves off and lays them flat on the table. Looks up at Ysabel. Lifts his eyebrows, tries on a smile. Her expression doesn’t change. “My lady,” he starts to say.

“You really killed him, didn’t you,” says Jo, her head still lying back against the booth.

Roland looks down at his gloves on the table and tries again. “My lady. I am sorry I have not been with you directly these past few days.”

“It’s no longer your office,” says Ysabel. She holds one of her hands in the other, her thumb absently stroking a wet red patch, rubbed raw, on her palm.

“It is no longer my office,” says Roland. He looks directly at her again. “And, I am sorry I was not with you sooner tonight.”

“We got by,” says Ysabel.

“You really did kill that guy,” says Jo, glaring at Roland. “He’s dead.”