Faux Pas de Deux 2 - Short Affair

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Prompts: Voice, Red

Word Count: 890

You can find the beginning of this story here: Chapter 1

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Hugo, aka Sir Oliver Smith, sat with two good looking men at a posh London eatery near Saville Row.  He was pleased with the arrangement, two to one, as it were.  The blond was just his type, but then again the American… well, why quibble? He’d take them both if he thought either of them even slightly willing.

“So, what really brings you here to London town?” Hugo winked conspiratorially, as though he knew there was something to divulge. He was wearing a red vest over a flowing, flowery shirt atop tight blue jeans.  His boots mimicked the trendy Cuban heeled ones worn by a famous band.

Illya cut his eyes to his partner, the con was on.

“I’ll tell you if you can explain why you have two names.  Are you, umm… Sir Oliver Smith, or Hugo? And why don’t you have a last name attached to Hugo? Hmmm?” 

Hugo shifted his body, turning his head in a manner that made Napoleon think of a snake. But the man was a snake, another villain from the underbelly of THRUSH.

“Oh darling, can you imagine coming to this country with a name like that?  It is entirely wrong, and for the life of me, I have no explanation for what my dear mother was thinking.  And so…’ Hugo threw his arms into motion, the gesture expansive…

“Here I am! Hugo, one name!”  He said it as though it should bring a round of applause, something the UNCLE agents declined to indulge.

“I see, well it is interesting at least.” Illya cast his comment as though the idea of a single name left him slightly bored.  When he said interesting, it was obvious he was being disingenuous.  Hugo looked deflated, his crush on the haughty blond suddenly not something to explore.  He turned his attention to Napoleon.

“And who are you, tall dark and handsome? I was perfectly thrilled to know you would be here today.” Perhaps he could make the other one a little jealous, that would serve him right.

The waiter approached with their food, interrupting the flow of conversation.  Napoleon recognized what his friend was doing, playing with Hugo’s ego.  The mission here was to find out what was really behind the storefront with Hugo’s name emblazoned above the door.  THRUSH was up to something, and this fellow was the key.

“Isn’t it a beautiful day, Hugo? You’ve made an excellent choice, it seems, having us meet here.’ Napoleon smiled at the man, eliciting a coy expression from him as he sipped his Perrier.

“So, who am I, you ask? Well Hugo, I am the future of your business, if you’ll allow me to enlist you in our stable of designers.  I represent a consortium of retailers in the United States who are looking for the next big thing.  You know, the designers who can catch the imagination, and the spending power, of a new breed of fashionistas.  And we think you, Hugo, are one of those designers.” Napoleon used Hugo’s name several times, emphasizing the importance of it as he drew him into this faux vision of fame and prosperity.

It was working, too.  Hugo, formerly Sir Oliver Smith, wanted only one thing more than ascendance into the THRUSH power brokers.  He wanted success as a fashion designer.  Having both would be  a dream come true.

“Oh Nappy!  I am excited by what you’re saying.  Dear boy, you certainly know how to woo a fella.” Hugo winked, his attention now entirely on the American.

Illya chimed in.

“And Hugo, there is a considerable bonus for delivering your designs as early as, hmmm… a fortnight.  Can you do that?”  Hugo thought a minute, trying to recall what exactly was meant by the word fortnight.

“Oh, two weeks, well… hmmm… Oh well yes!  I can do that, and have samples made up for you to see as well.  Oh, this is exciting.”  Hugo was happy, and all he needed now was to let Central know that the plans to invade the world of fashion was well on track. 

“That’s perfect then, and we’ll just be as unobtrusive as possible.” Napoleon said it as though it was a simple statement and not the condition under which the deal would be made.  Hugo made a face, almost afraid to ask what was meant by it.

“Oh, I doubt you could ever be … ummm, obtrusive… Eh, what do you mean, exactly?”  Central wouldn’t like it if he let outsiders into the workroom, all of his seamstresses and pattern makers were THRUSH.  

Illya smiled and looked to his partner, who also smiled.  Both of them were looking at Hugo as Napoleon announced his meaning.

“Why, we intend to be on site every step of the way, helping you and lending our considerable expertise as we guide you to your new, illustrious place in the fashion industry.  We’re going to make you a star, Hugo.” 

That megawatt smile again, and Hugo was entirely captivated by it and the promise being made.

“Oh, of course, you are most welcome.  Mi casa es su casa, so to speak.” He winked again, and both of the UNCLE agents smiled in return.

“So we have a deal?” Illya’s voice spread like a balm over Hugo’s mind and emotions.  He forgave the blond for sounding condescending earlier, he could not stay annoyed with someone who looked that good in a turtleneck.

“Oh definitely, we have a deal.”

Being famous and wealthy and powerful … oh my.

Comments

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Why do I get the feeling that things are going a little too well for our boys?

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Well... are you ever wrong about those feelings? I won't know until I look at the next set of prompts ;)