The Hand of Jealousy

She had received a call from her younger brother.

And on Fashion Week.

An-- interesting call. With a great commotion in his "sanctum," where he made all his babies flourish and fly off the mannequins' hard, lifeless bodies.

He must be dying, she decided. Odd that she'd be her first call. Had it been their Mother-- well that old bag wouldn't have told her. And Dad probably knew, being dead and all. Or a dandelion by now. He'd liked all that Buddhist stuff.

She didn't use the bell. Deciding to surprise him of the wine cradled in her arm. If he really was going then he deserved a treat. Just this once.

She'd even cry a little with him.

Having stolen his spare key a long time ago she let herself in.

To where she heard a moan and then a crash. Then her brother mewling his lungs out like Torbin Bates after she'd dumped his own cat's litter over his head. Shouldn't have called her insect fairy of a brother a fairy! Only she got to do that.

And perhaps he'd finally admitted that to himself and got himself a fine, gentlemanly hooker to entertain.

"No! Not Arn I need him for--!!"

He screamed again!

And this time with the thud of what could only have been his fists pounding on the floor as he sobbed.

"Twink!" she cried.

"Oh Pheebs, Pheebs save meeeee," he whined.

Among the explosion of fabrics and gaudy colors was Quinton, besieged upon by one of his female models.

The ravishingly firm and black Ramona mannequin.

Beating him with one of its own plastic hands.

And Arn? Another dummy who was now defiled in orange and black and puce green marker.

Phone out, she flashed a photo. "Hehehe, girlies got jealous you dog?"

And then Ramona paid her mind.

Besides the truly artful work on her lashes... she needed that midnight blue and black for herself... there was, an eerie green about her eyes. And she was sure her brother didn't have that kind of color. Because that color... that color was lighting up the whole studio.

"And who is this whore sweetums!?!?!?"

That's it.

She was going to Exorcist puke across this whole situationship.