34 | Peppermint Candy

There was nothing like a third-wheeling session with my friends.

I wasn't working in the shop for a while, because Mom learned her lesson on keeping unattended with the kitchen cupboards. I decided that if she was keeping me from the shop's kitchen, there must be more bottles. But it wasn't my proudest moment when Montana had taken me back here and I had to explain everything to Mom.

Anyway, I was by a table with Lawrence and Jessica. Lawrence was distractedly tapping his fingers on the table, waiting for his order to come. Jess, meanwhile, was going over the copy of Dad's contract that I gave her. I hoped that with her lawyer-in-training powers, she could find something we could use against my father.

I watched as her eyes skimmed over the words slowly as she stirred her creamy coffee. "Basic rule in law," she said without taking her eyes off the paper, "There's always a loophole in every contract. It takes a lot of effort to look for it, though."

She observed more closely. I saw her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. Jess commented, "This one's thick. And thorough. Whoever made this is good, but I can be better."

"Um, not to rush, but have you found anything yet?" I swung my legs underneath the table.

"I'm halfway through the third page," she replied.

"Why so slow? And you look old in those glasses," I said. I couldn't help but remark at the eyewear. It had this beaded string she could wrap around her neck.

She looked up at me, deadpanning, "This takes time, Ollie. I need to avoid overlooking each detail, examine this one. This one's so tricky, so tricky that it can serve as practice for my exams."

I chose to leave her in her mind palace. I trusted Jess; she can find something in there – and she enjoyed it. I turned to Lawrence, who smiled at me.

"How's life?" he asked.

"Normal, but not exactly on the bright side," I put my chin over my fist, tracing absentmindedly on the table. "College?"

"I'll get through – finally!" He stopped and leapt to his feet, taking a plate of cake from Voira. He picked up the fork and stared hungrily at the piece of cake. He didn't eat it yet, though. My stomach greedily wished for it, too.

Lawrence said, "So there are tests coming – this Wednesday, actually – but I'll get through. I'm not slacking, I promise. I've studied hard, because I want to graduate college."

"That's why you bought yourself a cake?" I smirked.

"Hey!" He jabbed his fork at my direction, "Since I'm a cake-holic and I need to de-stress first before exams, I have to reward myself from all that studying. Pre-ward myself."

I gazed down at the cake. Just a mere piece of cake that wouldn't suffice for my own stomach if I were to eat it. "And you aren't eating it, why?"

Lawrence fanned himself, "Savoring this one. I blew my cash for this cake."

"Poor cake," I mumbled, "It's going to get cold."

His fork went closer to the cake. But before it could pierce through the dessert, Lawrence held it back and dropped the fork. It clattered lightly on the plate. I shot him an annoyed look – this was more suspenseful than Sherlock.

He smiled sheepishly, "I forgot to tell you something. Brennan and I are best buddies now. He's kind of nice, you know?"

I recalled them exchanging numbers that night we visited Lawrence's flat. Mentally, I did a happy dance at the thought of those two getting along. Brennan was a lonely guy, even as a celebrity and Lawrence at least needed a guy friend-figure in his life.

"Yes, I approve of that, but you promise me you're not going to help him in any antics," I told Lawrence.

"No, no promises," he held a pinky finger out. Brennan and Lawrence together was a whirlwind, and it will be Jess, Montana and I who will be cleaning up the mess.

He dived into the cake again but then hesitated. He raised the plate and held it at eye level, as if scrutinizing every molecule. Damn it, Law, just shove it into your face. I was hungry and Mom stood by the rule not to feed me anything from the shop.

"Mom, I'm hungry!" I pleaded hopelessly as Mom went past.

"Did I hear you're surrendering this month's allowance?" she stopped, looking at me. I grunted loudly and waved her off.

She never heard whatever I asked of her.

I peered at Jessica, who was rubbing the papers in front of her. Looking closer, I saw a tiny stain of coffee at the near corner of the contract. Convinced that the stain would dry later, Jess went back to reading.

Suddenly, Lawrence's uneaten cake caught my eye. I was debating whether to take it for myself since he seemed ungrateful for it. But then something hit me. Something I haven't noticed before.

"Wait!" I slid the plate to me, much to Lawrence's whimpers. "This isn't in the Sweet Moments menu! I've never seen this cake before!"

When I looked up at Lawrence, he had a proud look on his face. "That's right! I'm testing for this cake Reg made. It's expensive because it's made of foreign ingredients and whatever. It looks tasty."

As he said this, I started observing the cake – chocolate batter, but I could somehow tell there was filling inside. The icing was green, mint maybe? Pistachio? Or was it just food coloring? There were leafy things as toppings. I brought it up to my nose. Smells fresh and sweet.

"Thanks, Reg, my man!" Lawrence waved his hand at our cook at the kitchen. Reg waved back.

Added to that, Lawrence's explanation seemed to have been overheard by Mom. As she mopped, her head snapped up to the cake then at Reg. She had a shocked look on her face, seeing a dessert served to a customer that she didn't make or invent. Reg cowered behind his whisk.

I faced Lawrence and flattened my palms on the table. "Take a bite, take a bite, take a bite," I chanted.

"Saving the cake, remember?" Lawrence crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Riley!"

"Okay!" he threw his hands up in surrender. He leaned close at the cake as I watched. Jessica watched, too. Lawrence carefully took a piece and put it in his mouth.

I stared at him expectantly, "So?"

"It's good," his eyes lit up. He began munching through the cake until a half of it remained. Wow, man, what happened to saving it?

I enviously watched Lawrence eat the cake. Normally, I would've stolen it from him brutally, but he seemed to be enjoying it and I didn't want to snatch his pre-ward from him. His exams would be a stressful week for him.

"Ollie?" Jess suddenly piped up. Her coffee was almost finished, but she was nowhere near looking energized. I diverted my attention to Jessica.

"When your father stole those ideas from Walter Dale and used them as his own – "

No need to remind me, thank you.

" – did he use everything? Or did he leave out anything?" Jess asked. I thought of it hard.

"I know for a fact Dad doesn't like taking in new artists. He never does face-to-face auditions, and he gets other people to take in new singers and actors for him. So I'm guessing he left out the plan of getting new talents."

Jessica hummed in response, thinking about it.

"Why? Can we use that for something? Did you find anything?" I sighed, "Frankly, I don't think a bunch of new artists can be an advantage for Walter Dale."

"No, didn't find anything from here. You don't happen to have direct contact with Mr. Dale, do you?"

"Which Mr. Dale?"

She gave me a pointed look.

"Okay, I don't. I only have Maira and Brennan's numbers. And assuming Walter might know how to use that information as advantage, and even if I have direct contact, I just can't face him."

"Well, I was just wondering about it . . ." she trailed off, going back to her observations.

Pouting, I went back to Lawrence. The cake wasn't fully consumed yet, but it was getting there. "So what are your plans after college?" I asked Lawrence nonchalantly. Boring. It was getting boring.

He laughed, "I think it's still a long way before I get through college."

"Yes, but it doesn't hurt to have plans, does it?"

"After college . . . ?" Lawrence glimpsed briefly at Jessica. "I don't know. Maybe I can move back to Florida and get a decent job there. Preferably, I've already found my girl by that time."

"You?" he asked me back. "Plans for college, I mean."

Now that I wasn't with Jackson anymore, it was hard to imagine a future for myself. I wasn't exactly sure what I'd do anymore. It sounded frightening to be alone and independent after high school.

If I moved out, who would pay for my food and Wi-Fi?

"If Dad's true to his word, he'd send me to Bridgeshade and give me and Mom enough money to support ourselves. And soon, I'll probably be the one running Sweet Moments. Then . . . I'll be backing up Montana and Harmony if ever they need it," I answered.

"Cake in the hole," I told him. He patted me in the head and fed a piece of the cake. It was pretty good. Mom should put this on the menu.

"I'll still see you after you graduate, right?" Lawrence said.

"Of course, we'll keep in touch." There was nothing that could keep me apart from this boy. I was more than thankful I had Jess and Law with me. I could never survive without them.

Later on, after minutes of Lawrence eating the cake (and then finishing it), Jess called our attention. She looked genuinely happy as she tore her glasses from her face and laid the contract on the table. Wow, she acted like how Sherlock was when he discovered a murder.

"Oliver, why do you want this record label so badly?" she questioned me in all seriousness.

"Well," I blinked several times, "It was a far-fetched dream at first, but I'm pretty good at singing and I want to share my talent. Dad knows this and he bribed me with a record label."

"Has he heard you sing?" she rubbed an imaginary beard.

"No . . . I don't think so?"

"Look at this," she pointed at a paragraph on the paper. Lawrence and I leaned closer.

Jessica began to recite, ". . . she shall be supported by Reynold Records in any record deal offered to her or any record deal she takes. This includes solo, group or any kind of musical status. If ever she declines this option, she will be supported financially at any occupation of choice . . . "

I still didn't get it.

"This could've been a mistake by the writer that your dad overlooked," Jess exclaimed happily, "Or your father just let it pass and he doesn't care which company you end up in because he doesn't really see your talent."

She looked at me with wide eyes, "You sing exceptionally, right? You're going to prove him wrong, right?"

"Yeah? Uh . . . I mean, I still don't see where this is going."

"Ollie," she said firmly, "It doesn't specify here that you have to sing for Reynold Records. And it says here they will support you financially no matter what kind of record deal you choose. Do you know what that means?"

"I can go get it from Dale Studios!" I smiled at the gateway to hope. But then the negatives came crashing in.

"Wait," I said, "How can I do that? I couldn't just waltz in and receive a record label from Walter Dale, can I? And how is this going to help me take Jackson back?"

Jessica asked, "So this is all about getting Jackson back?"

"Yes?" I squeaked, "It's what I have to do. Brennan's ship is dying!"

"I don't know how this is going to win him back, but think of it as an act of rebellion to your father. This is your move against him."

Lawrence stared back and forth at our exchange in amazement. He sipped whatever remained of Jessica's coffee.

"First, we have to get you an audition or whatever they call those. And then you do your thing," Jess turned to Lawrence, as if acknowledging his presence for the first time. She nudged and pinched him all around, "Give me your phone."

"Why – ow! Where's your phone?" Frowning, Lawrence reluctantly gave it to her.

"No time. Yours is directly connected to the shop's Wi-Fi," Jess was in her zone as her fingers glided over the phone. My feet grew restless, dying to see what she was looking up.

"Hold on, how did you know my password?" Panicked, Lawrence looked over her shoulder to see.

"My dad's a cop. My friends are lawyers and private investigators. You learn a thing or two."

"But I have things in there! Private things!" Lawrence screamed. He tried to grab the phone from Jess but she effortlessly fended him off.

"What could you possibly have in here? Food porn?" she chuckled. When she set the phone down, I saw that she was browsing his gallery.

"Yeah! And pictures of my loved ones . . ." said Lawrence.

I looked at Jessica, waiting for some clever comeback to pop out of her. Instead, she fell silent as she gaped at the phone. My eyes followed her gaze and I saw that it was a picture of her laughing. Candid photo.

Jessica went on rage mode. She scowled at Lawrence, "Why is this picture here?"

He whimpered, looking down like a scolded child. "You were so pretty when you laughed. I just took a picture so it can last," he explained meekly.

Jessica gaped, flustered. Her neck went red and she dissolved into a fit of clearing her throat. "What's with the hearts and sparkles on it?" she muttered.

"I got carried away with editing . . . ?"

An unimpressed look from Jess.

"Okay!" Lawrence blew out a breath, "I want to keep it there forever. You know, we won't be with each other forever. You can leave and I can leave and I like being with you. There will come a time when we won't be having sleepovers in my flat anymore."

Boy, you go date her already.

"That's right, because that time, you'll be living in the same house already!" I said out of the blue. They both faced simultaneously with different expressions.

Jessica wasn't saying anything. She shook her head slightly and went back to the phone, to look up in the web. Finally, after going through something, she yelled, "Aha!"

She handed me the phone to show me the Dale Studios website. "Auditions with Walter Dale today ten thirty. That's in twenty minutes! You should go!" Jess started shooing me away.

Psh, I bet she was so eager for me to go so she could have alone time with Lawrence.

I was already stood up, but I wasn't ready to go. "I can't do that!" I said incredulously, "Again, I can't just strut in there and audition! Don't I need an appointment? Files and whatnot?"

"You can wing it!" said Jess, "It's Walter Dale – he can do you a favor. No matter if you get the record label or not; you couldn't say now that you didn't try!"

I turned to Lawrence, wondering what he had in mind. He smiled at me sincerely, "It's worth a try, Ollie. Believe me, I've never heard you sing or heard that you can sing, but you've tried lots of crazy things before."

"So I'm just going inside? Inside Dale Studios?" I said breathlessly.

"Yes!" Jess nodded.

Lawrence was now stopping Elvia, ordering for another dessert. My eyebrows drew together. "I thought you didn't have money anymore!" I pointed a finger at Lawrence.

"Yeah, but I'm still hungry," he patted his belly.

"You! You better give me half of that bagel!"

"And you better pay me back for all the food you got from me once you get rich and famous," he told me. I took a deep breath and nodded. Then, I walked out of the shop, my throat tight.

Chocolates and vanilla, I was going to sing.

♫ ♫ ♫

When I got inside the Dale Studios building – which was cozier than Dad's building, by the way – I realized I didn't think this through that much.

First of all, I couldn't go around the place, much less come to the auditions without really getting an appointment from the front desk. Second, I couldn't really to Walter Dale defenseless. I mean, there must be other people coming in to share their talents. They must've rehearsed for who knows how long.

Meanwhile, my throat was quite itchy and I was standing poker face in the middle of people going about.

I was about to turn back and rethink my decision when I saw Brennan come out of the two elevator doors, twirling drumsticks in his hand. I ran up to him immediately and dragged him to a less deserted place.

"Whoa, what are you doing here?" He grinned when he saw that it was me, "Going to see me?"

"No," I scoffed, crossing my arms, "I'm here to see your father. Can you take me to him?"

He contemplated about it for a second, "Not sure. I think he's at auditions right now."

"Exactly."

His eyes widened in recognition, "You? Uh? Look, I don't even want to know exactly what you're planning but I can take you there."

I nearly hugged him. Nearly. He smelled like Axe, so I didn't want to catch the infection. Brennan led me to the front desk where he wore his charm and his smile. "This one's going to audition for my Dad. She doesn't have an appointment but I'll bust her in. Can you add 'Oliver Ridge' to the list?"

The lady nodded and her fingers came flying on the keyboard. Then, arms around my shoulders, Brennan steered us through the busy people, towards the elevators.

"I have somewhere to be right now," he whispered close to my ear, "And if you're going to say 'Reynold Records' then you're right. Whatever you're going to do, I'm proud of you."

"You are?" A little boost of confidence surged in me.

"Yep," said he. The elevator doors slid open and to my surprise, it was empty except for Jackson Dale.

I looked at Brennan. His sly expression told me everything. Before Jackson could close the doors himself and before I could register what happened, Brennan pushed inside as the doors began to close.

"Floor number five!" Brennan called out. And that was the last I heard from him before the doors shut completely and the box began to move.

From the corners of my eyes, I saw Jackson press himself at the corner, scooting farther from me. It was a no brainer that he was fidgety being around me again. I didn't understand what the fuss was. I acted casual, tapping my fingers on my legs elevator played.

I wondered what he was doing here. Jackson didn't normally come to his Dad's place. Some work business, maybe? I wasn't certain.

As the box approached the next floor, I took the freedom to press down the 'close doors' button and 'number five' button so I could get there faster. And when I did, I swore I heard a deep breath from Jackson.

I stopped holding down the buttons, realizing something. With a straight face, I turned my head to look at Jackson, "Hey, what floor do you get off?"

The question seemed to catch him off guard. He pressed himself closer to the corner and started to sweat. Jackson's eyes were wide, as if I was going to jump at him for something.

I shrugged one shoulder and leaned against a wall. If I tried to make some more small talk, he'd probably combust. Once we stopped at the floor, number three, he made a mad dash out the elevator.

"Geez," I huffed, "Is there some universal rule to avoid your ex at all times?"

Then, the ride ascended to floor five, and according to the plaque outside the elevator, it was where the president's office was. Huh. Not the top floor. Walter really was a humble man.

Following the directions laid out for the guests, I finally found the hall where people who came to audition waited on soft couches. Ten thirty – just in time. My eyes scanned the other people present.

There was a middle aged man with intense acne holding an accordion, then a pair of twins maybe going for a duet, there was an over-groomed woman, and lastly at the end of a line were four girls as a group judging by their matching outfits.

I hesitantly sat down on a chair, keeping my hands on my lap. "There's not a lot of people here," I whispered to myself.

"You're right," The girl next to me said. My eyebrows arched in shock. She was actually speaking to me. She was pretty with her matted hair and striking blue eyes.

"I told you to share that," Another girl next to her told her as she filed her nails.

The first girl reached out her hand, which was holding a bowl of candy, "Peppermint?"

I eagerly took three, because I was hungry. Apparently, the sandwich I while ago wasn't enough. I popped one in my mouth, thanking her shyly.

"No, this bowl isn't mine. It was there on the coffee table, but no one was getting so I took it," she pointed to the mentioned table, and then faced me, "So you're also here to audition."

"Yeah, it just seems so . . . sudden to me," I said nervously.

She laughed, "I know. I still can't believe I'm here." She held out another peppermint candy to me, "I'm Ritzi, by the way. That's R-I-T-Z-I."

I took the candy, "Oliver. And I'm fully aware it's a boy's name. You can call me Ollie, though."

I leaned forward to look at the rest of her friends. The one who was filing her nails had heavy eyeliner on. There was a pink-haired one, talking to a dark-skinned girl. This group looked like they were going places. "Is this your group, er, band? What's the name?"

"Divide and Conquer," Ritzi's eyes radiated pride when she said it, "You want to know why we're called that? You want? You want to?" She practically bounced on her seat in excitement.

I laughed a little, "Why?"

"Okay, wait," she held her palms out, "I'm not good at explaining it, but C here had the idea and she can explain it better." Ritzi took the arm of the girl next to her.

'C' blew out an irritated breath and rolled her eyes at her friend. "I'm so sorry you have to talk to her," she said, "She's annoying all the time, it's like she's high on caffeine."

"Don't worry, I understand. I have the same kind of friend."

"Carmela!" Ritzi complained, "Tell her!"

Carmela shot her an annoyed look before starting, "So it's like this. We're a singing girl group, but we have this particular twist in our thing. We're called Divide and Conquer because we not only sing as four people, but we can split off into threes, duets or solos. That way, some of us can sit back, while the others sing."

"Wow, that's something I've never heard of," I said, "Isn't it hard, though? Some songs you have three of you and the others solo?"

"We've managed it, and I think this can work," Carmela said determinedly. Then, she sat back again and continued filing her nails.

"That pink beauty is Shai, and the one beside her is Phoebe," Ritzi pointed them all out, "Those two are a couple."

"And this, this audition is really our big chance," she turned to me with a somber look, "You say that there's only a few people here. It's because everyone else is vying for Grant Reynolds. All the promising ones go to him now because he has a lot to offer. But we know he doesn't care about them."

Ritzi went on, "I don't want to sound rude, but it's true. A year back, we tried going for Reynold Records, when Grant himself was managing newcomers. When we went in and showed him what we got, he lashed out on us and insulted us. After then, we practiced and practiced and we decided to go for Dale Studios now. Hope Walter isn't as bad as him."

"I get your pain," I said sympathetically. Now, it made me more single-minded on doing this.

"So," Ritzi sighed, "Any touching life story?"

So where do I begin?

"Ah no," I smiled the widest I could, "Just here to go for it. If I get in, then I'm happy. If I don't, then that sucks."

"At least you have nothing to lose."

The time went on, and I realized Ritzi was so easy to talk to. She was friendly. At times, Carmela would chime in on our conversations. And I even met Phoebe and Shai. We all feasted on the peppermint candy.

My hands went clammy when the girls disappeared behind the door to meet Walter. I was alone now, being last in line. This was horrible. Worse than taking a test. I wished I had Brennan here with me. Brennan who always got me to sing.

And then the time came. I was next.

My lips trembled when I pushed the door open. The room was a simple recording room, with the fancy buttons and levers and all. Walter was on his swivel chair, spinning around. He stopped when he was fully inside and put his hands together under his chin.

"Ollie," he sent me a small smile, "Just imagine my surprise when I saw your name pop out on the list suddenly. Impromptu decision?"

My laugh was shaky, "Yeah. I – I . . . Walter, first I really want to apologize."

He motioned for me to go one.

I fiddled with my fingers, "I'm sorry for what I did; I just thought I was protecting you and your family. My father –" I stopped suddenly with a squeak when he brought up his hand, gesturing for me to stop.

"It's okay. Apology accepted," he said, shrugging.

"R – really?" I pressed my lips together, "Just like that? But what I did was wrong . . ."

"This isn't the first time Grant has done something like that. I know he'll go to whatever extent to take me down. Yes, I'm upset that he took all those ideas from me, but I can't get angry at you. You were used – you had no choice." He said all of it calmly.

"Y – you know I'm h – his . . .?"

He scoffed, "Of course I know! He was my best friend after all. Why did you think I hired you?"

I gaped at him.

"Listen," said Walter, resting his elbows on his knees, "He does this every time. And he's done worse. It's all just a game for him. But each time, he brings me down, I just go back up again. Simple. His victory will be short-lived, trust me."

"You . . . knew this would happen?"

He waved his hand casually, "More or less. I still have other plans, though. The people I work with? They're loyal to me. I know them."

I released a deep long breath. No words for me. Walter wasn't mad. This must be all a dream.

"But I'm amazed though how my son loves you." I looked up to see him slightly turning side to side in his swivel chair, smiling. "When he found out what happened, Brennan literally ran to me and beg for my forgiveness for you. Ha! Joke's on him. I pretended to be mad so he can rub my feet all afternoon."

I let out a chuckle. Oh Brennan.

"And in this audition, he's your best supporter," Walter said.

"What do you mean?"

"He was the one to tell me that you sing excellently. He made me listen to these recordings where you sang. And I must say I agree with him."

That bastard! "I thought he threw all those away! Deleted them!"

Walter told me wisely, "If there's one thing I've taught my son, it's that not to let a good talent go to waste. There are unrecognized people out there, so you shouldn't expect him to let you slip away."

I should cook up a big meal for that boy. He was my mentor after all, the one who got me to start it all. And honestly, in those times we were in the recording rooms at Reynold Records, I received advice and singing pointers from him that I couldn't get from anyone else.

"What . . . what about Jackson? Has he said anything about me?"

Walter frowned, "I don't know anymore about that boy. He bore a grudge towards you and I don't even know why. He's spreading his depressed mood all over the house that I almost helped Brennan get him into a therapy box with you."

I laughed.

"Don't worry, Oliver. He'll come around." He reached up to pat me on the shoulder. "So I've already listened to your 'demos', if we can call it that. Just sing a song in there and do your best."

I stepped into the small recording box, with the microphone and everything. I even had those headphones with me. I put them on and told Walter the song I wanted to sing.

And I let out everything, every thought I could pour out into the song and into my voice. Singing, I knew, was losing yourself and detaching from the world. It was best type of emotional release I could think of. Because after singing, the weight you were carrying was already lifted.

In the end of singing Beyoncé's Halo, I felt like those minutes were too quick. When I opened my eyes and blinked rapidly, I saw Walter through the window, looking like he was both thinking deeply and in awe.

I went out the box and looked at him, "How'd I do?"

"Amazing," he dragged out the vowels, "Much better than those demos."

I almost stumbled back. What? What did he just say? Again, this is all a dream. I put my arm to my mouth and bit hard.

I yelped softly. No, not a dream.

"Uh, I'm sorry?" I said to Walter.

"I said that was amazing? Record deal right away!"

"What?"

"Well," he thought about it, "Not really right away, but you have the potential to have one. You've passed stage one of it and you're qualified for stage two. Of course, I have to help you up your game."

"Up my game?" I asked curiously.

"You see, other starting artists have things to back them up before they step into the spotlight." He explained, "Recommendations from other famous celebrities, experience on back-up singing or that sort of thing, evidence of practice."

My shoulders sagged, "And I only have Brennan, you and those demos."

"Don't worry. We'll make it work out. You'll be a real superstar soon."

"Me?" I almost choked, "Why . . . why . . . I only came here as an act defiance towards my father. I didn't know I'd actually accomplish something!"

"Then you'll be smirking at him when you're up on stage," Walter winked.

"No, no, you don't understand. This is a big thing for me. I can't just go and be a singer out there!" I rubbed my hands together. They were so sweaty. And cold.

"Then I have an idea," Walter tapped his chin, "What do you say you have . . . companions with you? Part of a group?"

"You don't mean," my eyes widened, "Divide and Conquer? You got them in?"

"Their idea is pretty creative. Follow me." We went out of the recording room and down the hallway. We stopped at the southernmost door, which was covered in white leather.

Walter opened the door just a bit and peeked his head inside, "Girls, how would you like to have a new member?"

Then the screams followed.

♫ ♫ ♫