Chapter 2.8- Appropriate Attire

          Layla had a new morning routine. When she first rose in the morning, she’d turn on the stereo in the living room and go and dance in whatever she had slept in the night before.

          When she’d first tried it, the free feeling was a wonderful surprise. She’d originally moved here in order to better be left alone. But since her arrival she actually found herself being far more social than she’d ever thought she’d be.

          No one lived across the street or behind her or to the South side of her, and the house next door had no windows on the side that could look into her house. So she took the liberty of being herself, just as she was, without worry of anyone peeking in and seeing her.

          It also helped her to understand why her own mother often wore nothing but her panties and bra so much. It could be very comfortable.

          The only drawback she could see was she had to be sure to dance a little ways away from the front windows. If she got too close, she could see the homes at the bottom of the hill. Though she doubted anyone could see her if they didn’t have binoculars pointed right at her windows, she still tried to stay just far enough back that there wasn’t a risk of being watched.

          Layla knew her moves were good. Watch this, when she did this move she actually had a butt! Amazing, huh? Who needs padded panties when you can just pop it?

          For days when she knew the mailman would be delivering cut gems, or if she wanted something to listen to while cooking, Lalya had put a little boombox in her kitchen. It gave her more privacy so the mailman would stop trying to peek in the windows whenever he made a delivery. It also gave her something else to do in the kitchen. Sometimes, she'd find herself in there dancing in the middle of the day. Just 'cause she could, y'know?

          Of course, privacy was often only an illusion. No one knocked and so long as Layla forgot to lock the gate and her doors people would forever be walking in. Today’s surprise visitor was a welcome one at least.

          “AAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Dear Watcher!” Cyrus gasped as he turned his back to her, covering his eyes along the way.

          Wide eyed, tipping her head to one side slightly, Layla could not figure out what was wrong. She was just his sister after all.

          “What?”

          “You’re my sister!” He’d slammed the door, shaking his head violently, shuddering, rubbing his eyes hard with his fists.

          “Yeah, so?”

          “So you’re not a little kid anymore! And I’m still trying to get used to the fact that you grew up! And I come in and you’re half naked dancing in your kitchen! It was embarrassing enough that mom traipsed around in her underwear all the time! Gaaaaaaah!”

          “This bothers you?”

          “Yes, it bothers me! Please, please for the love of all that is sacred put some clothes on!”

          Finally, Layla stopped dancing utterly perplexed by this attitude.

          “If it bothers you that much. Geez! Fine,” Layla said as she headed for her bedroom.

          “It’s safe now! You can look. Go on into the living room. I’ll be there in just a minute,” Layla shouted a few moments later.

          Cyrus had very tentatively turned around, incredibly thankful at finding an empty kitchen. Seating himself on the couch he took a peek around at the somewhat bizarre collection his sister had built up.

          There were insects buzzing in cages stacked in random corners. The miniature graveyard that used to spook Buck so much had a new home here amongst the other treasures.

          Gems of every hue in the rainbow, sometimes in a single gem even, lay on top of almost every available surface. To someone who had had to scramble for food almost every day, the loose stones were tempting and dangerous.

          Wildflowers littered every other available surface not taken up with gemstones. And what caught Cyrus’ attention the most was that the walls were starkly bare. Helen had kept photos up on the walls, Olivia had paintings on her family’s walls, and Cyrus himself had become used to curtains. So while the interior of the room was almost cluttered, it felt cold to him.

          “I figured I’d hear from you before you came back here,” Layla called from her bedroom. She’d left the door open and Cyrus could see the symbolic key to the city passed down from some great grandfather who’d done something for someone long ago shifting as she opened and closed drawers on her dresser.

          “Yeah, well I knocked on the front door,” he replied. “No one answered and I thought I heard music so I checked the back door. If you don’t want surprise visitors you should start locking your gate or your doors!”

          Finally dressed again, Layla ignored his jibe about locking anything. She’d gotten kind of used to Sally and Aunt Estella dropping by and just walking in and kind of liked it. What did it hurt anyway?

          Cyrus was eying a glowing gem on the stereo next to him as she sat on the other end of the couch. She loved how her living room looked. To her, this was homey.

          “Hey, are you hungry? I could fix something really quick. I’m not burning what I cook nearly as much anymore either!”

          Finally, he was able to take his eyes off the expensive gems his sister considered knick knacks to look at her.

          “Nah,” he shook his head. “No, I’m not hungry. Just tired. It’s been a long day. But I really wanted to stop by before I went back to the hotel for the night.”

          “How did the job search go?” Layla knew why he was in town. She just didn’t know that he was actually in town.

          “Wonderful,” he smiled. “Some guy here in town is wanting to run for Mayor and he hired me as a clerk for his campaign. He’s really young and inexperienced, so I don’t know what kind of shot he’ll have, but it’s worth a try. And he’ll pay well.”

          “So you’re really moving here, huh?”

          “Yes! I put a deposit on a little rental today,” Cyrus beamed. “It’s all working out so wonderfully. A house and a job in the field I’ve always wanted to work in. Olivia can get a job as a nurse, unless this guy will hire her too, and things should finally settle down.”

          Staring into the lamplight, Layla felt a deep well of gratitude toward Phedra for sending Cyrus here.

          “So what exactly do you do for a living, sis? You own the house by your own admission, your furniture is pretty nice, there are gems laying around everywhere, but it seems like you are almost always home.”

          “Oh, I don’t do anything for a living,” Layla answered casually. “I don’t need money. “

          Raising his eyebrows, Cyrus gave her an incredulous look.

          “Ok, I wander around and pick up stuff from the ground that most other sims just walk on by. It seems I have a knack for picking up stuff that just happens to be pretty valuable. Sometimes I sell it, sometimes I keep it. Do you want one of the jewels I’ve got laying around? I can always get more. You can grab some for Olivia and the girls too if you want.”

          Cyrus smiled, then turned from her. Was she really that naïve? Didn’t she know what some people had to do for money, and she had a knack for picking it up off of the ground?

          Layla was simply patting herself on the back for being making such a generous offer. After all, she had helped Phedra get her start in life. Why couldn’t she do the same for Cyrus?

          “So do you have a boyfriend yet?”

          She’d forgotten he’d missed that part of her growing up, but she took it just the same. That she wasn’t complete without a significant other in her life. It probably didn't help that Sally had plied her usual question with unusual vigor early that day.

          “I like being alone,” she snapped. “I don’t need someone at my side to make me whole. I had a chance at having someone when I toured all those islands and I still left that chance behind.”

          “It was just a question,” Cyrus’ voice was cold. “There is no need to get so touchy.”

          Keeping her eyes squarely on her brother, Layla was anxious that he got it into his head quickly that she wasn’t a prize horse up for sale. She didn’t need anyone permanently. She was fine as she was.

          However, Cyrus was more of the opinion that ‘the lady doth protest too much.’ He figured she was hiding her romantic interests in order to avoid a potential rejection. It was only the sting of her sharp words that truly startled him. She had always been so gentle as a child. What had changed?

          Wanting to make another attempt at conversation, Layla tried to exploit his interest in politics. Hoping it would ease the tensions between the two.

          Her ploy worked and for the next hour they ignored the darkening skies (and the oddly determined ice cream truck) and tried to keep the topics light and general.

          They had finally found a way to merge their favorite separate interests into a single conversational topic (Al Gore apparently) and peace had been restored at last.

          The sun was setting and things were cozy and comfortable. However, such wonderful moments are never meant to last and the closing of the back door jolted Layla and Cyrus both.

          “Miss Sixkiller? Are you home?” Layla’s stomach dropped. She’d recognize that barely there accent any day. Ignacio.

          But before she could give vent to the disgust she felt even knowing that skunk was in her house Cyrus had leapt to his feet, grinning.

          “I didn’t know you knew my baby sister, man!” He exclaimed as he reached for Ignacio’s hand. “What are you doing over here?”

          Layla stopped, she had been about to give Ignacio a push out the door. Her distaste for him almost made her want to shove Cyrus out the door just for greeting him with such familiarity. Wait. Wait a second: how did Cyrus know Ignacio?

          “I did not know Miss Sixkiller was your sister,” Ignacio said. “What a wonderful comfort she must be to you! I assume this is the family you mentioned who lived here?”

          “Yeah! Yeah she is! It’s great to know that she has a friend here.”

          Layla bristled at the assumption, but didn’t turn. She didn’t want to alienate Cyrus and Cyrus obviously was chummy with Ignacio, just like Ned was.

          “Ah, yes,” Ignacio’s tone turned slightly oily. “Yes, a friend of your Miss Sixkiller.”

          Rounding behind Ignacio so she could better look squarely at Cyrus Layla was stung by Ignacio’s comment about her. There was nothing friendly between the two, and if she had her way there never would be. As it was she was tired of him popping up almost every day. She would give anything to be rid of him.

          As she let herself be carried away by her thoughts the two men stood talking about fishing spots. It seems Ignacio had offered to take Cyrus fishing at the first available opportunity once he’d moved there. Cyrus was not just ready to fish, but eager. And an experienced guide was invaluable.

Totally misinterpreting the malice in Layla's eyes, Cyrus got the impression that the two wanted to be much more than friends. He’d help that along if he could if it would secure him a good guide.

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          Finally having enough of fishing talk Layla nudged Ignacio out of her way.

          “I’m really glad you stopped by before you left again,” she said. “When will you be back?”

          “Soon,” He answered her with a smile. “And I’ll bring the family with me when I do.”

          “You’d better.”

          Cyrus decided Layla was trying to get him to leave so she could have some time with Ignacio. Layla was hoping to exclude Ignacio from the conversation so he would leave. But Cyrus was quicker on the draw and she didn’t suspect that he had some very misguided ideas about the situation.

          “I’m going to go ahead and head to the hotel, sis,” Cyrus pulled her into a hug. “This day has been really long and I can’t wait to get some sleep and get back to my wife and kids. So I’ll see you later. And next time-“

          “-Yes!” Layla interrupted hoping he wouldn’t mention her panty dance in front of Ignacio. “Yes, call next time before you walk in the door. But are you sure you want to go so soon?”

          “Yeah, I'm pretty tired. But I'll still see you soon!” and Cyrus left after he’d clapped Ignacio on the shoulder.

          Layla had peeked through the windows on her door to make sure Cyrus was well away before she rounded on Ignacio who had been admiring the gems on her stereo.

          “How dare you just walk into my house like that!” Her fury was metered by Cyrus’ recent visit, though, and she was unable to put her usual amount of venom into her words.

          “Your door was unlocked, as was your gate, as it usually is. If you don’t want visitors you should lock them.”

          “Anyway, I do not have any such time to waste on your petty arguments. I am supposed to deliver a message before I can go and take care of matters much more pressing than whether you invite burglars or others into your home by leaving it open to all.”

          Layla’s thoughts were still very centered on Cyrus’ visit and she couldn’t come up with anything other than a dirty look to throw back at the most annoying man in Simdom.

          “I do not even have time for your angry glances, Mi Llamita,” Ignacio continued. “Much as I would like to spar with you once more, and win once again, I must deliver my message so I will be free to take care of pressing personal matters.”

          Not deigning to speak aloud, Layla inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement that she would listen.

          “Mister Ned has requested that you join him as he dines two nights from now at Kim Gould’s. He requests that you arrive around 5 so he might have the pleasure of your conversation before you both dine. I suggest you ask Miss Sally to assist you in your dress for the evening. I’m sure she knows what is appropriate attire for such a dinner.”

          “Oh,” Layla’s voice was small. She smiled a little at Ignacio in spite of herself, pleased with this small victory with Ned. Maybe she’d manage to invite him back to her home after dinner. Or she could suggest a tour of his bedroom, the one room whose door remained closed to her during her tour of his home.

          Retreating into her personal triumph left no room to notice how her companion’s face had softened as he watched her. In fact, she didn’t see him at all. She had taken a small mental trip to see Sally to tell her that she was officially going on a date with Ned. Wouldn’t Sally squeal with delight when she heard?

          Finally coming out of her thoughts, she looked past Ignacio. Brushing by him, not noticing that he had turned to hide his face from her she went to open the door.

          “I bid you a good evening, Mr. Guerra,” she said firmly.

          Still keeping his back to her, Ignacio ignored her polite wish and left as quickly as he could.

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Le sigh. Ignacio is scum. But he's hot scum durn it. And I'm yet to know why he was pulling those faces at the end. Really. But why not use them?

And what about Cyrus walking in on Layla like that, huh? Yeah.