“The Wealthy Waffle?” Stellar Wind said, with no small amount of disbelief. “Is this a joke, Horseshoepin? Am I a joke to you?”
“Not at all, my dear.” Frederick walked on inside, allowing a hostess unicorn to lift his coat off with magic. “It is in the earth pony style to stick to literals. Too much metaphor muddles the message. Trust me, this is one of the finest establishments in the whole city. Neigh, in all Equestria!” Stellar rolled her eyes, but followed him inside. The rather frivolous trousers she wore were dangling into the rain a slight bit, which was starting to sully the rest of the otherwise extremely sharp look. Octavia followed the pair, Parish at her side. Her eyes traced the interior. It was bedecked in greens, golds and blacks, with hoof stitched tapestries in the Earth Pony style, mostly depicting landscapes. A raised music platform and dance floor rested in the center. Opulent chandeliers hung down low, casting magical candlelight over the diners.
“We will be going Dragon on the bill, I assume?” She murmured to Parish. A place such as this would wring you for every bit. He chuckled, laying a hoof across her shoulders. “How many luncheons have we had, and how many left to go?”
“Where is your sense of adventure, Octavia? Let us try something new, for a change.” His own quite elaborate coat was lifted from him, and he brushed off his vest with a dainty hooftip. She took a long moment and adjusted his tie, even though it was perfect.
“I would prefer adventure less likely to bankrupt me. Behold, it’s so expensive Miss Scratch wasn’t even allowed within eyesight of it!” Parish chuckled again, and adjusted Octavia’s tie in turn. The lie had become so practiced for both of them that it was as good as the truth. Octavia doubted very much if the element of Honesty itself could parse it false.
“Whoa, dang. We’re in public, guys.” Vinyl made a show of placing a magical barrier between them as she entered. Parish shot his eyes downward in supposed embarrassment. Octavia shattered the barrier with a hoof.
“Ah, and here I thought they were going to keep the riff raff out.” She stuck her nose up quite pointedly. As if to prove Octavia’s point, Vinyl bucked her own coat off into the air for the hostess to catch, and shook her mane like a dog. She couldn’t help a sense of satisfaction from seeping into her. Much like a stooge-y slapstick routine, thrashing the Dee-Jay in a battle of wits was immensely and consistently amusing.
“I oughta be sayin’ that to you, Ponyville. Don’t think I didn’t spot your turnip truck parked outside.” Vinyl was kind enough to keep that joke to a low volume. More likely, she merely wished to avoid more serious repercussions.
“Potato truck, actually.” Parish said, equally quietly, and the two of them giggled. Octavia turned away to hide her smile, and sat down at the table without another word. It was good to see Parish laughing. The two followed a safe distance behind, and soon all five of them were seated. Stellar was reciting a very complicated coffee order to a very professional waitress. Frederick was very subtly eyeing Parish’s outfit as the other stallion sat down beside him. Vinyl sat in the one open chair beside Octavia and immediately seized the alcohol menu.
“Ahem, Vinyl. You brought bits this time, right?” Stellar said, pointedly.
“Ah, yeah, totally.” Vinyl kept her eyes on the menu, but they ceased moving. Stellar rolled hers, but did not comment further. Octavia suppressed a snort. Frederick and Parish began speaking of various events in the new year. Octavia listened idly, but did not miss Vinyl subtly replacing her menu on its stand.
“-really in desperate need of additional strings.” Frederick said pointedly. Octavia seized the menu that Vinyl had just put down. She retracted everything she had said prior. Perhaps Frederick was not changed at all. “-Especially a particularly talented musician who is pretending not to hear me right now.”
“Unfortunately, I do hear you, Frederick. Now, if you would be so kind as to hear me in turn, I have said a great many times that I would prefer to focus on my career as a soloist.” Octavia set down the menu with a great deal more force than intended, and cast a knowing look at Parish, who shrugged.
“Octavia, dear. I don’t think you were listening.” He said, kindly. Frederick laughed.
“As I mentioned prior, I’d be happy to accommodate. Perhaps special billing?” He clasped his hooves over his untouched coffee. “The Horseshoepin Quartet, featuring the stylings of Octavia Melody? Perhaps something in that vein.”
Octavia said nothing, preferring to order what the establishment termed a ‘Sunshine Waffle’. It was not a terrible deal, all things considered. However, would it not be a betrayal of her resolution to be done with Frederick and his ambitions, changed stripes or no? I am not one hundred percent convinced of the changed stripes as yet either.
“What do you actually play anyway, Octy?” Vinyl spoke, her voice slightly muffled by her apparent inability to move her jaw from where she rested it on the table. “I mean, strings, apparently, but like, what specifically?”
“It is a cello, you ingrate” Octavia relished the change of subject as she might the waffle that was hopefully arriving soon. “It is a larger instrument, resting on the floor.”
“Right, yeah. Smaller than a double bass, larger than a viola. Nice mellow-y sound, but can be a bit sad.” A somewhat sadistic grin had spread across Vinyl’s face as she turned to face Octavia. “Usually tuned to perfect fifths, but in non-classical jams sometimes fourths. Decent in jazzy numbers too, ya know. Good instrument for soloists. Can see why you’d want to focus on that.” Octavia stared at her, speechless.
“Did you play, once upon a time?” Frederick leaned further over the table, now in serious danger of dipping his tie into his expensive milk-coffee mixture.
“Nah” Vinyl fiddled with her silverware, waving away the waitress who was once again asking if she wanted anything. “Not my thing.”
“Lack the patience to learn a real instrument, did you?” Octavia snipped, unwilling to let this one go with the ball in her court. Unfortunately, she didn’t spot Stellar’s frantic hoof waving until after the words had left her mouth. Vinyl’s evil grin deepened. Her horn alighted with magic, completing the look, if the look desired was foal’s comic book villain. Vinyl stood with a swagger, and meandered over towards the center of the restaurant. A gleaming black piano rested there, sectioned off by velvet ropes. Vinyl began unhooking them from the golden posts they were tied between.
“Ma’am, please! No, that’s only for the professionals!” A serving mare rushed over to her, followed closely by the rest of Vinyl’s party. Vinyl scoffed.
“Filly, please. I am a professional. Say, would you go get me a tip jar? Maybe a cocktail too? Thanks.” Vinyl replaced the rope, and cracked her wrists. “Yo, Octy, should have known better, filly. You heard my old name.”
“I- Only part of it!”
“I was Ivory. . .” Vinyl put on her glasses. “Ivory Keys.”
Before Octavia could reply, white hooves met white keys, and a sonorous note filled the restaurant. The hooves began to tap, slowly and delicately at first, and then they began to dance. Octavia had, as a younger pony, often struggled with the balance required to play the cello, balancing it against oneself in such a way as to keep both upright, along with the delicate hoof control needed for the bow. Octavia saw the same in Vinyl, balancing herself against the instrument, but not so heavily she pressed any note too sharply. Rapid hoofwork was likewise required to play the many keys. She rocked back and forth as she played, shifting her balance from forehooves to backhooves as her fore crossed over each other or she lifted both in the air. With a jolt, Octavia realized she knew the piece. Moztrot! Octavia expected her to supplement the performance with magic, as many unicorn musicians did. She did not. Her horn remained dull.
The waitress from earlier had abandoned trying to talk Vinyl down, and, more incredibly, acquired the requested items. A small painted box for tips and a cocktail, which Vinyl did use her magic to seize, taking a quick sip when she next rested. The playfulness of the piece rose to a crescendo, and then broke into a gentler rhythm, which Vinyl matched by swaying slightly side to side as she played, hooves darting from one side of the keyboard to the other. Octavia was jostled slightly by another patron, and hardly noticed. Vinyl’s glasses slipped slightly down her muzzle, and before she could readjust them, Octavia noted that her eyes were resting closed. Concentrating? Or lost within the music?
Before she knew it, Vinyl was on to the third movement, a gently galloping intro, where her hooves briefly flashed as quick as sunbeams, hitting note after note. She wobbled slightly, then regained her balance with a more vigorous note, hooves slamming down and resuming their rapid tapping, fierce and delicate all at once. She continued building the melody, letting it rest, then building once again, drawing to a beautiful climax, where Octavia was certain all four of Vinyl’s hooves must have left the ground for a moment. Then, and only then, Vinyl paused, breathing heavily, and took a quick glance back at Octavia. In that long moment, she felt the red eyes burn straight through the tinted plastic. Red like flame. Flame to ignite her soul.
A pony at a nearby table began applauding, hooves rapping rhythmically against the carpet. Another joined, and another and another, and the spell broke. Octavia remembered that she was not alone. Her legs were stiff from standing stock still, and she stretched them. She looked around, but Stellar and Frederick had returned to the table. Vinyl shook the tip box with delight and swallowed the rest of her cocktail. Octavia followed her party back to their meal.
“Are you quite alright, Octy?” Parish brushed a nonexistent whorl out of her coat as she approached. His eyes did not hold worry. Rather, they sparkled with mischief.
“Yes, quite. I was simply enjoying the music. I am surprised you were not doing likewise.” Octavia leaned against his shoulder. She did not trust that look, not one bit.
“I was, Octavia. However, that was a lengthy sonata. I preferred to rest my hooves, rather than stand at rapt attention for the entire half hour.” He murmured, and Octavia felt a blush cover her muzzle.
“It was expertly performed. I found myself lost in it.” Parish’s grin grew, and she hastily added “It was the last thing I expected. I was surprised, nothing more.”
“She is multi-talented in ways even I was unaware of. You should partake of her musical area of expertise. It’s divine, truly.” Parish pulled out her chair for her, and she sat. If nothing else, this luncheon had been less dull than the previous. With better food, as well, she hoped. Hold a moment. . .
“My waffle. . .” A wave of sadness washed over her. She glanced down at it, no longer steaming. Her stomach growled, and she took a tentative bite. Indeed, it was quite cold, the syrup and cinnamon frosting long since congealed. She pushed it away from herself, and let a pout overtake her face. Yet another thing ruined by one Vinyl Scratch. She shot a glare at the offending unicorn, who replied with a very energetic raspberry.
“Pshh, I’ve got bits now, I’ll get you a new one. And another drink over here!” Vinyl slapped a hoofful of bits from her tips box on the table, overpaying by a non-insignificant degree. Octavia blinked.
“Celestia’s sake Vinyl, are you drunk already?” Stellar snatched the bits away with a glow of magic, sliding them back into the box. “You’ve had one drink! I taught you better than that.”
“Sorry Mom, must not have paid attention in drinking class” Vinyl stuck out her tongue again. “I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, is all. Sheesh.”
“Why?!” Frederick was aghast.
“Food costs bits, mane-gel. Bits don’t grow on trees. Unlike food.” Vinyl slid back into her seat, trying to flag down the waitress. “And last lunch was free, so, you know, I figured today would be too. Figured I could stuff myself.”
“As it is often said,” Octavia cut off Frederick’s shocked repetition of the ‘nickname.’ “There is no such thing as a free lunch.”
“A lunch that Vinyl Scratch doesn’t have to pay for, then” Said Vinyl, eyes rotating furiously. “And don’t sass me when I’m about to buy you waffles.” Octavia could see the wisdom in that statement, and allowed an uneasy truce to settle over the lunch table. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she lost herself to visions of her waffle, reborn.
“It’s time for us to carry on.” Frederick announced, polishing off the last sip of his coffee. “Stellar and I have a meeting, I believe?”
“Oh sun above, is it that time already?” Stellar checked her watch, tossing her remaining food aside as she leaped to her hooves. “Indeed we do. You kids have fun~”
“Parish, I will-” Frederick stopped himself, and then continued. Octavia felt her eyes narrow of their own accord. “Will I see you at the theatre tonight?”
“Naturally.” Parish smiled vapidly, and waved as the two left. Octavia readied a scathing condemnation, but Vinyl was faster.
“Yo, dude, red flags there.” She said, simply. Parish shrank away from her words in a way he never had for Octavia’s own. They both expected Vinyl to continue, but she did not, she sat there. Octavia’s own statement was somewhat unnecessary now, so she settled for nodding to Parish in tacit agreement.
“You two agreeing on something? This day has been full of surprises” He said lightly, picking at his salad. Parish would likely never be persuaded away from Frederick completely, and Octavia knew it. Pressing too hard might strain their relationship, and she needed to be there for him, as a fake marefriend or his best friend, whatever it took.
Thankfully, the new waffle arrived, pulling her mind away from darker thoughts. Vinyl snatched her old one out from under it, and dug in as well. Octavia held herself back from it long enough to speak first.
“Vinyl. I speak kindly-” She paused, unable to resist a small bite. Heavenly. Butter and syrup baked within a cloudlike fluffy cake. The sun shaped cinnamon drizzle atop was an excellent touch. “-ahem, excuse me. I speak kindly when I say you really should be less miserly. Why not treat yourself to a fresh waffle, hmm? You clearly have bits, you bought one for me, after all.”
The look on Vinyl's face was only just shy of utter shock. She gnawed on the cold, stiff waffle like a cow, face scrunched as if in deep thought, or trapped in unpleasant memories. Octavia recoiled slightly in surprise. All her barbed comments, and this was what upset the pony? A suggestion to treat herself? She would never understand the mind beneath that mop of a mane.
“Dunno” Vinyl said, after what felt like several moons of thought. “Guess I could only afford one. And it got a rare slight smile out of Octavia, which is traditionally valued at several million bits, sooooo resale is gonna make me rich.”
“A comeback must generally be a little snappier than that” Parish chuckled, evidently not having seen Vinyl’s face. “That is quite unlike you, Miss Scratch.”
“Glass houses, Pears. There’s a heck of a lot you do that’s not like you either.” Vinyl made a pointed look at Octavia, and winked, evidently over her sudden surprise.
A fierce, angry kind of curiosity consumed Octavia’s mind. She was, by her own admission, a perfectionist. It made her hard to work with, half of why she preferred to focus on solo acts. On the other hoof, it also made her an extremely supportive friend. She wasn’t sure if Vinyl counted as a friend, perhaps something more like a rival, but something about this was not sitting right with her. Why was she so cheap? Was Vinyl being blackmailed? Did she have a secret child, perhaps? Or vast debts from gambling?! Octavia’s imagination ran wild. She could see any of these being the truth, in all honesty.
“Yo. Octy.” Vinyl tapped a hoof on the table in front of her, and she startled. “You still with us? Equestria to Major Octy.”
“A classic song, yes.” Octavia turned her stare on Vinyl, whose white cheeks turned red, for some reason. “I do listen to modern music as well, you know.”
“Modern?” Vinyl snickered, surreptitiously rubbing her cheeks.
“More modern.” Octavia corrected, eyes still on the undeterred blush. “Before we go too far off on this silly tangent, what was it you were actually asking of me?”
“Oh, right. Pears was talking about mane-gel and his band, and mane-gel was apparently asking if I wanted to join up for an event or whatever.” Vinyl flipped her mane a bit, adjusting her glasses.
“It’s not a band, and I can’t imagine that.” Octavia truly tried to imagine Vinyl in formalwear, with a combed mane, and failed miserably. “I suppose it is possible you could get away on talent alone. Why ask me?”
“Well, Pears is head over tail for the guy, can’t really get an honest opinion from him. You seem to be extra frosty towards him, so maybe you can give me the flip side?” Vinyl waggled both her hooves in a balance-scale-like motion. “You know, tell me the bad stuff. The hot goss.”
“Frederick is an excellent musician and businesspony. You can be sure of premier booking and almost certainly a large paycheque.” Octavia took a breath. “However, he is also a highborn, self-righteous and ofttimes unnecessarily cruel pony, who will insist on his own way no matter what, and has driven more than one aspiring musician from the industry altogether.”
“Wow” Vinyl said, by way of reply. She sat back hard in her chair, looking pensive, eyes cast up to the skylight. Thoughtful was quite a strange look on her. “Well, no point worrying about it now. If he can put up enough bits, I’ll put up with him. I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with ponies like that.”
Octavia thought back to the tail of the phone call she had walked in on. Why was Harpsichord Delight irritated with her daughter? Was it the choice of profession? Vinyl was successful, remarkably so. Even accounting for a distaste for modern music, that seemed like insufficient cause to be cross with her. Mysteries upon mysteries, and Octavia’s mind was made up to solve them all.