Mingling, Part 3

Lily caught Erin’s eye across the buffet like it was a challenge. The other green-skinned woman (Lily never thought she’d get to use a phrase like that) stood at the end of the line, arms folded, chest unapologetically bared, the mint of her skin radiant under the dim chandelier. She carried herself with the studied ease of a soldier on leave—comfortable, but always braced for something. Lily recognized the posture instantly. She’d worn it herself, too many times.

Erin noticed the attention, and a slow, sardonic smile curved her mouth. “Nice dress,” she said, as Lily approached. “Is it custom, or does it just… grow?”

Lily smiled, letting the compliment land. “Bit of both. I can make it change shape, but if I wear anything synthetic, I start sneezing pollen everywhere. It’s a tradeoff.” She cocked her head. “You’re Erin, right? The one who went no-clothes, no-shame.”

“That’s me. I’d shake, but…” Erin held up her hands, palms glistening from where she’d just demolished a mango slice. “You get it.”

“I do.” Lily helped herself to a wedge of pineapple. “So. Is it true what they say? That you were Andy’s first, and also his hardest to win back?”

Erin snorted, lips curling. “Depends who you ask. If you ask Andy, he’ll say he just got lucky. If you ask me, I’d say he got a second chance because I wanted it more than he did.” She paused. “Not really his first, either.” She nodded towards the memory wall. “But yeah. First to fall, first to bail, first to crawl back when I realized nobody else was going to keep him alive.”

Lily grinned, sharp around the edges. “That sounds about right. But you seem… at ease now.”

“Helps that he stopped running from his own feelings.” Erin glanced over the crowd, then back at Lily. “You’re with the other Master, right? Caleb?”

Lily nodded, her expression darkening slightly. “He’s still figuring it out. We all are. He and I have… history. Like yours, but worse.”

Erin gave an approving grunt. “Tough gig.”

“Sometimes,” Lily said. “But I had to ask… How do you keep it together? Doesn’t it ever get… I don’t know. Exhausting?”

Erin considered, then shrugged. “Sure. But if you give up, you might as well let the whole thing collapse. Andy tries to help all of us, but who supports him? I used to hate that about him. Now I think it’s what makes him worth the work.” She looked Lily up and down, the gaze honest and unflinching. “You seem like the spine in your group. Or am I wrong?”

“I don’t know that there is one,” Lily said, sadly. “I wish I was.”

They stood together, chewing thoughtfully. Erin reached for the serving tongs, not bothering to cover herself as she did. “You ever think about leaving? Or do you figure you’re stuck with him?”

Lily shook her head. “There’s no leaving. Not even by elimination. But… it’s not just about him. It’s about everyone else. If one of us left, the others would fall apart. That’s the trap.”

Erin smiled, a flash of teeth. “Same. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing him a favor by staying. But then he’ll do something so stupid, so heartbreakingly sincere, I remember why I wanted him in the first place.”

Lily looked at Erin, and saw the truth of it. “You love him,” she said, surprised at the certainty.

Erin looked away, as if embarrassed. "Yeah. I do. Not in the storybook way, but… he's the only one who ever made me feel real. Even when he was messing up. And this show has changed him. A lot, and for the better." She glanced at Lily's verdant skin, the tiny vines that curled around her wrists. "So how's the plant thing working out? Any weird side effects?"

Lily traced a finger along one of her leaf-edged collarbones. "Aphrodisiac pollen.” She made a face. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She smiled, a flash of white against green. "What about you? The whole mint-condition situation?"

"I photosynthesize," Erin said dryly. "I smell like a pack of gum. But I don't sunburn anymore, so there's that." She studied Lily's face, noting the shadow that crossed it when she glanced toward Caleb across the room. "You know, with Andy, I had to learn when to push and when to wait. Some guys need space to figure out they're idiots."

"Caleb's had plenty of space," Lily said, her voice tight. "Enough to build a whole universe in."

"Maybe that's the problem," Erin said quietly. "Sometimes they need to feel cornered before they'll face what's right in front of them."

"That’d be new," Lily said softly, and Erin knew she wasn't just talking about the advice.

They lapsed into silence, watching the party unfold. Someone had started a conga line on the dance floor; Norah led, with Myra and Skye close behind, and every time the line doubled back, Emi attached another origami animal to one of the dancing girls. It was beautiful and ridiculous and exactly what Lily had always wanted, even if she'd never have admitted it out loud.

---

Andy had lingered in the cool semi-dark of the side hallway, not so much hiding as gathering the last shreds of composure before what Sam had ominously dubbed "The Main Event." He’d thought the next act of the party would be easy—a bit of cake, a bit of song, a few awkward presents—but the ever-growing crowd and the sense of expectation that hummed in the walls had started to claw at his nerves.

He didn’t realize the next round of arrivals had slipped in until he heard the even-keeled timbre of Arabella’s voice echo from the foyer, threading easily through the thump of the party. Not her Host-voice, but something more intimate, like the tone you’d use to greet an old roommate you’d never really stopped loving, even after all the shit.

He craned his head just in time to catch the hug: Arabella had launched herself into the arms of a very tall, very striking woman in a jewel-toned dress. The woman’s hair—rich brown, spun out in a professional blowout—barely rippled as she absorbed the full **** of the Host’s embrace, but her laugh, low and affectionate, made Andy smile. “Genet!” Arabella said delightedly.

Trailing just behind: a lean, sharp-featured man in a beautifully tailored suit, the kind of slate blue that made you look both richer and **** than you probably were. Andy recognized him at once, and did a startled double-take; there were few people you could catch off-guard by their presence in the Harem Hotel, but Congressman Turner was absolutely one of them. On his arm was a young woman of much more familiar type—blonde, with a shy smile and a skirt that was absolutely not regulation length, even by HH standards.

Arabella disengaged from Genet with a look of unguarded delight. "You made it," she said, as if the only two places in the universe that mattered were here, and wherever Genet had come from. Then, catching Andy’s eye over Genet’s shoulder, she beckoned him forward with a tilt of her chin. The gesture was smooth as silk; in another world, Arabella would have run state dinners for a living.

Andy straightened his shirt (which felt, suddenly, underdressed for the occasion) and moved to intercept the trio. As he approached, Genet caught his hand in both of hers, engulfing it with the warmth and pressure of someone who genuinely wanted to know how your day was, not just whether you’d enjoyed her party. Her voice, when she greeted him, was the kind of mellow that only comes from centuries of practice. “You must be Andy! Arabella has told me all about you,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Congratulations on making it this far with everyone intact. I’m so happy to see how much your ladies love you.” Her smile was honest and luminous, her posture relaxed even in heels.

Arabella’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder, grounding him. “Andy, may I introduce Genet—she’s something of a legend among the Hosts. She’s also one of my oldest and beloved friends.” The compliment landed with a sideways smile, and Genet bowed her head graciously, as if accepting an award.

"And you must be Congressman Turner," Andy said, extending his own hand to the suited man, who shook it with an easy, practiced confidence. Andy remembered the man from a news special a few years back, a face that looked at home behind a podium but not at all out of place here, in the surreal circus of the HH.

"It's Richard, tonight," the man said, a flash of humor lighting his eyes. "Or Dick, if you prefer."

The woman sidled closer, and for a brief instant she looked sad before she put on a smile bright as sunrise. "Aubrey," she said, holding out a hand to Andy. She looked around the room, her excitement barely contained. "Isn't this just… amazing?" Her gaze swept the floor, scanning for familiar faces and landing on the conga line, where Chloe and Candy were currently orchestrating a spontaneous bout of musical chairs.

Genet leaned in. "It’s been a while since we did one of these," she said, sotto voce. “Usually they don’t invite more than one Host to the same set unless they’re planning to make a scene.”

Andy grinned, feeling the old, battered sarcasm stir to life. “I think that’s covered tonight. We’ve already had a couple of surprise drop-ins, including one secret Host reveal.” He glanced over Genet’s shoulder and noticed that Anna hovered in the entryway, watching the reunion with an expression that was, for the first time, openly affectionate. Anna and Genet’s eyes met across the room, and there was a long, silent exchange—a nod, a half-lifted hand, an entire chapter of mutual recognition played out in ten seconds. Andy felt, weirdly, like he’d just watched two stars align.

Arabella, seeing the look, laughed. "Genet and Anna go way back," she said. "Anna, do join us. Andy could use another ego check."

Anna glided over, taking up a post at Genet’s right side, her lapis necklace and gold scarf catching the light. She gave Andy a quick, conspiratorial smile. “You’re holding up remarkably well, considering the pressure,” she said.

Andy shrugged. “Fake it until the next round of reality hits.”

Aubrey, meanwhile, had already drifted a few feet away, scanning the food table and the dance floor with the eager focus of a kid at her first county fair. Her eyes widened when she spotted the refreshments, then she spun around and almost tripped into Andy’s Dawn, who caught her by the elbow and stabilized her with a grin. They introduced themselves instantly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to meet in a room filled with naked, transformed women, Masters of every size and shape, and at least two other Hosts.

Arabella watched this with satisfaction, then turned to the group. “You’re just in time for the cake and the speeches,” she said.

Richard put a hand on Andy's shoulder, his grip a little too tight. "So this is what month two looks like," he said, low enough for only Andy to hear. "My set's only been running two weeks, and I swear, I'm just riding the current." His gaze flicked over the crowd, then back to Andy, a flash of something—not quite envy, not quite relief—crossing his face. "Any advice for the new guy? Besides 'don't let them see you sweat'?"

Andy, caught off guard, could only laugh. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

Aubrey rejoined them, bouncing slightly on her heels. "Is it always this crazy?" she asked Genet, who laughed and said, "Oh, kiddo, this is nothing. Wait until Arabella gets into the afterparty."

Genet then turned to Anna, taking her arm with a familiarity that said they’d done this a thousand times before. "You never change," she said, affection in every word. "You always know when to show up."

Anna smiled, the lines of her face softening. "Someone has to keep you honest." She studied Genet. “I’m glad you’re back, you know.”

Richard offered his arm to Aubrey, who took it with a flourish, and together they headed into the crowd, the two of them instantly becoming the center of a dozen micro-conversations. Aubrey started introducing herself to every woman in arm’s reach, and Richard watched her with a look that was equal parts pride and terror.

---

Erin caught the blonde on her third circuit of the food table. There was a pattern to Aubrey’s movement: the way she half-glided, half-bounced from group to group, face lit with a cheer that never quite made it to her eyes. Erin knew the type. She’d worn that same brittle shine during her first week back with Andy, right before she let herself believe she could want him again, really want him, without getting destroyed.

She watched Aubrey fumble at the edge of a knot of women—Chloe, Marissa, Skye, and the one called Mary. Aubrey dropped in with a laugh and a too-loud “Isn’t this just amazing?” and Chloe, whose maternal radar never missed a wounded bird, immediately handed her a plate of cookies and drew her into the circle.

It didn’t last long. Aubrey smiled, made an excuse, and moved on, her skirt a flash of white among the buffet's tropic greens and candied fruit. She stopped by the drinks, then by a window, then—inevitably—by the drinks, where Erin waited with one hip against the table, a plastic cup balanced atop her right breast like a party trick.

“You’re going to start a new groove in the floor,” Erin said, voice low and level.

Aubrey startled, then frowned. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not to most people.” Erin poured a second cup and slid it across the table, the movement unhurried. “You want to get out of the crowd for a sec?”

Aubrey’s shoulders relaxed a notch. “God, yes.”

They wound through the edge of the party, past the main stage where Riley had somehow wrestled the mic away from Sam and was instigating a game of “Never Have I Ever” that already had three women blushing to the roots. Erin led Aubrey through the side doors and into the hush of a library-themed lounge, the kind of place where the walls were papered in fake spines and the air smelled faintly of wood polish and nostalgia.

They sat, two seats apart on a plush blue velvet couch. Erin took her time getting settled, stretching her legs and crossing them at the ankle, making no attempt to cover her chest. She saw Aubrey try not to stare, and appreciated the effort.

Aubrey tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “Thanks,” she said, and Erin could tell she meant it.

Erin let the quiet sit until it almost became a third presence. “You having fun?” she asked, though her tone suggested she didn’t care about the answer, not really.

Aubrey picked at a cookie, then put it down. “I am. It’s… it’s wild. And everyone’s so nice. But also, I don’t know. It feels like I’m on a different channel. Like, I’m here, but everyone else has a book on how to handle it, and I’m just guessing.”

Erin nodded. “First week in the Hotel, I thought I’d broken my brain. You get dropped into this place and everyone’s happy, horny, or both, and you think, ‘Wow, this is the whole show, just keep it together and nobody gets hurt.’ But then you see him—” she jerked her chin toward the main room, where Richard had joined a group of men by the windows, “—and you realize it’s not just a game. It’s your life, and if you screw it up, it never goes back the way it was.”

Aubrey looked at her, unblinking. “You really get it, don’t you?”

Erin shrugged. “You’re not the only one who had to watch her boyfriend bone his way through a harem. Except here, it’s not even ‘cheating.’ It’s just the job.”

Aubrey laughed, bitter. “Yeah. He loves me, but I still don't know if I can accept everyone in his bed. I'm glad I had my second chance, I really am. But this wasn't the way the story was supposed to go.”

Erin sipped her punch, ignoring the way it fizzed in her sinuses. “Yeah. I know, better than you’d think. But here’s the thing: what if the alternative was never having that second chance?” She glanced at Aubrey. “You still love him?”

Aubrey went silent, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then it’s worth it,” Erin said. “But you gotta adjust your expectations, or it’ll eat you alive.”

Aubrey frowned. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Erin said, her voice sharpening. “The first month, I hated every second of it. I wanted to kill Andy every time he looked at Claire, or held hands with Emi, or even made breakfast for Dawn. I thought if I just toughed it out, he’d remember why we mattered. That I’d ‘win’ or whatever.” She set her cup down, hard enough to make the liquid slosh. “That’s not how it works.”

Aubrey waited, and when Erin didn’t go on, she said, “So how does it work?”

Erin looked up, her eyes steady. “You let it hurt. You let it suck. And then you decide if you’d rather have part of him, or nothing at all.”

Aubrey’s breath hitched. “That’s bleak.”

Erin snorted. “You ever see a grudge garden?” When Aubrey shook her head, Erin gestured at her own chest, at the pale green skin that ran from collarbone to wrist. “I planted one after Andy left me. Every time someone pissed me off, I’d buy a new plant, put it in the shittiest dirt I could find, and name it after them. Then I’d tend it, obsessively, because I wanted to prove I could make something thrive in spite of the hate.” She grinned, a little feral. “You know what happens when you tend a garden for long enough?”

Aubrey shook her head again, eyes wide.

“You get good at it,” Erin said. “And then, when you finally let someone new in, you realize you’ve been practicing love the whole time. Not for him. For you.”

Aubrey sat with that. The silence was thicker now, but not as heavy.

“Do you still get jealous?” she asked, almost a whisper.

Erin shrugged. “Some days. Especially if Andy’s being an idiot. But most of the time, I just want the girls to be happy, too. If you think about it, we’re all in the same mess. And if we don’t look out for each other, nobody will.”

Aubrey’s face pinched. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that.”

“You don’t have to be,” Erin said, softer. “You just have to show up. And if it gets to be too much, you can scream into a pillow, or throw cookies at the wall. But don’t pretend you don’t care. That’s how you end up alone, even in a room full of people.”

Aubrey’s mouth twisted, then she laughed, a real sound this time. “M… Maeve says that. About the ‘knowing your feelings’ part.”

They lapsed into a lighter quiet, the sort of lull that meant the hard part was over, at least for now.

Aubrey looked at Erin, her gaze lingering on the smooth green of her arm. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever wish you could go back? To before any of this?”

Erin rolled her shoulders. “Some days. But even before the Hotel, life was a competition, you know? Now at least it’s honest. And I like who I am better, now. Even if it’s weird, or… hard to explain.”

Aubrey nodded, and for a moment, her face looked peaceful.

A loud cheer rose from the other room, punctuated by Norah’s unmistakable cackle. Aubrey looked toward the door, then at Erin. “Thanks. For… not sugarcoating it.”

Erin grinned. “I’m not very good at sugarcoating.” She stood, stretching, and offered Aubrey her hand. “You coming back to the party?”

Aubrey looked at it, then took it, her grip firmer than before. “Yeah. Why not.”

They walked back together, Aubrey holding herself a little differently, a bit less like a balloon about to burst and more like a woman who knew she could float, even if the wind was rough.

At the edge of the Dance Hall, Erin paused. “Hey,” she said. “You ever want to talk, or just scream about it, I’m around.”

Aubrey’s smile was real, now. “Same.”

They slipped back into the chaos.

---

Harper couldn’t remember the last time she celebrated her birthday. It wasn’t just due to having a few extra lifetimes of memories crammed in her brain. It wasn’t her attempts to repress her old human life, the grayness of her existence before the Hotel. It was that, before the Hotel stole her, nobody cared enough to celebrate it. Even her.

She eyed Skye talking animatedly with Emi. These little milestone celebrations always brought back memories. Harper thought about their wedding for a moment. Her engagement scar itched, as it was wont to do when Harper thought of that sword fight. The ceremony after came to mind, where Skye fell apart at their first kiss. And their wedding dance that devolved into mutual cunnilingus in an instant. She gave Emi a nod and moved on.

Scarlet was finishing up an introductory chat with Marissa. Harper again went nostalgic for a moment. That wedding night was wild. She didn’t notice Mr. Ward come in, not really. Too busy being lost in her own world for a bit.

She realized her hands were empty: a grave sin at a party like this. So, she sidled up to the bar. Emily was tending it at the moment.

“Howdy, ma’am. ‘Tender’s gamble. You want to make me something simple, something mildly odd, or something incredibly strange? I got the secret ingredients for the last one, since it involves things you certainly didn’t prepare for.”

Emily grinned. “Strange. Always strange.” She grabbed a napkin and pretended to wipe the counter with it, squinting like an old-fashioned barkeep. “What’ll it be, ma’am?” She giggled.

Harper pulled a few bottles out of her inventory, one a clearly labeled bottle of celery bitters, the other a fisherman’s bottle filled with a milky looking liquid. “Are you ready to make what became the official staff drink from my season: ‘Crab Trapper at Home’? Ounce of corn whiskey, ounce of bourbon, ounce of this here crab stock, a dash of Angostura bitters, a dash of celery bitters. Garnish with these cute little crab claws. Perfect libation to get a mermaid drunk.”

Emily blinked at the description, then gave Harper a broad smile. “Sounds like something fancy. That trick with pulling bottles out of nowhere? Very handy. Could you teach me? For obvious reasons, pockets aren’t an option for me.” She got to work as she spoke, mixing the various ingredients with a confidence that said this was by far not the weirdest drink she had ever been asked to make. In a few moments, she handed Harper the finished cocktail, neatly garnished, and smiled. “Enjoy the party!”

“Slainte!” Harper cheered (in the proper Scottish way; some human habits died hard) and took a sip. Emily’s cocktail tasted like Daphne when she would get back from visiting her frenzy, at least before Harper got her pregnant. She was going to need to get some bottles of actual Crab Trapper while she was out, for when the mermaid kids would be injected into that kraken carcass.

Now that she had some liquid courage to occupy her hands, it was time to face the music. Even a queen had to apologize when she did wrong. And this was an apology needing to be delivered in person.

Arabella was a vision, as she often was. Harper was still curious as to what Arabella really was, under that facade, that glamour, but it wasn’t her place to pry. Dinah looked nervous, almost as if those letters they exchanged never happened.

Hoping to ease her way into it, Harper tried for a safe opening, “The ones I found for the Garden settling in?”

Arabella nodded quietly, studying Harper, like a Host would a possible colleague. “They are. Thank you for helping them. We will do what we can for them.” She glanced at the dance floor, her eyes clearly seeking someone in particular, although Harper couldn’t see who. “The timing was fortunate,” she said cryptically, then she gave Harper a small smile. “Congratulations for the end of your season, since I could not congratulate you myself earlier. I understand there is an interest in Hosting one of your own.” She paused, as if contemplating whether to warn her off or encourage her, then continued, “There are far too many bad Hosts. The lives in our hands are lives nonetheless. And pick your Masters well, if you are allowed to. Often, the first Master you pick sets the tone for what is expected of you, after. It takes a lot to break the mold.” Her eyes flickered to Laura Black.

Harper nodded. There was something more she needed to say.

“I wrote that I need to say this in person, so I will. Arabella, I apologize for my behavior the last time I was on your set. It was unbecoming of me. Thank you for keeping me from making things worse. I don’t know what would have happened if you let my rage go unabated. I am in your debt.”

Arabella waved her hand. “No debt incurred. You are still young, and you were under tremendous pressure. It was not the first time I had been threatened by Masters, Contestants, other Hosts, or Producers.” She grinned. “It all worked out for the best. Thank you for being a friend to Andy. If all goes as I hope, he will be in need of long-lived friends, and you may find that your friendship will be even more important than you realize now. But…” She took a deep breath. “I get ahead of myself.” Arabella noticed Harper’s eyes going to Dinah again, and smiles warmly. “Go. I have kept you for too long. Trust that the guests you sent our way will be cared for.”

Nodding mutely, Harper watched Arabella take a step away, and found herself in front of Dinah.

Harper clutched the cup as she turned to Dinah. “Dinah, I did you so wrong. I should have found a better way to help you instead of giving in to the easy temptation. I tried my best to never make that mistake again. I am glad you are happy here and I wish you all the best. Say the word and I’ll be there for you, whatever you need. Friends? Or, at least, not just super awkward exes?” Harper offered Dinah a handshake.

Dinah studied her for moments, her gaze unreadable, her eyes going from Harper’s face to her outstretched hand. The woman’s tail was still, her ears perked up as if assessing threats. Dinah’s eyes sought Harper’s, searching for something. Then she offered a hesitant smile, reached out for Harper’s hand, took it, seemed to change her mind and to Harper’s surprise, pulled the sea elf into an awkward hug.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about what you did,” she said, when they detached, “I can’t forget what you did, you understand. You took away my agency. You made me a caricature of myself, even if it was only temporary. But… that doesn’t need to poison everything else we shared.” She ran a hand over Harper’s cheek. “I have seen some of the worst of what this show has to offer, Harper. There are women in the Hollow Garden who might envy Jenny’s fate. What you did was reprehensible, but I have kept up to date on your season until it ended, and Arabella gives me regular updates on how you and the girls are doing in your new lives.”

Her eyes were glistening. “You’ve kept them all safe. You found a new home for all of them. And you didn’t give into temptation again. That means something to me. So I forgive you, Harper. I think you’ve paid more than enough. I wish…” She trailed off, blinking furiously. “Will you come visit, from time to time? Bring Scarlet, or Skye, or any of the others. Arabella will let you in, if you wish. I would like us to be friends. I would like to sit with you from time to time over coffee, and just… talk. Will you?”

Dinah smiled, and for the first time since they had encountered each other again on the show, Harper saw it was a real smile, unguarded, fond. "Perhaps someday I'll come visit as well, if you'll let me," she joked, "I've always wanted to see how well I could deal with a fantasy world."

Embarrassed, she punched Harper's shoulder. "Let's go celebrate the birthday boy. I'm glad I ended up here, Harper. And I'm glad you're friends with Andy. As strange as it may seem, you two go well together."

She hesitated, then took Harper's hand. "Arabella doesn't tell me what's coming up for the challenges, but I sense the next one is going to be hard on Andy, even more so than on the women. They are all strong women, but they don't have the outside perspective you have. Keep an eye out for him?" She asked, as they headed towards the stage.

---

Genet, Richard and Aubrey are from Mothneb's Domestic Affairs branch. Check it out!