Title: "Hustler"
Fandom: LXG, AU
Rating: PG-13 (strong language)
Summary: Somewhere in London, favourite bitch Mina Harker is presenting photographer Huck Finn with what is to be his latest job. As usual, Huck's far from pleased.
A/N: Inspired by au_abc, on LJ, I wrote this little piece while hiding away in Clarenville for two weeks doing little more than watching Netflix (I was channeling Veronica from "Better off Ted") and surviving the humidity. Oh and I bought boots! In my head Huck has already met Tabitha, a sweet down to earth girl far removed from this usual line of fame hungry, cut throat women he's used to photographing. Thus, when Mina hands over the portfolio, he feels like he's somehow been duped.


Wilhilmina Harker, owner of Quincey Press and it's subsidiary line of erotic catalogues, lit another cigarette and glanced bemusedly at the obnoxiouswall clock brother-in-law Rodney had thought would make a wonderful addition to her London highrise and thus found a home in the office of her favourite underling, Huck Finn. Said photographer had been deliberating over glossies of Mina's latest find for far longer than it wouldusually take the critical American to say 'yay' or 'nay' to the model in question, and it made Mina's red slicked lips quirk in the barest of smiles to think the arse had finally been stumped by a pretty face.

"She won't work."

Mina's frown bounced back in to place.

"Of course she'll work."

"She won't work."

"I'm telling you, she'll work." Mina blew a condescending smoke ring across the table. "With that smile she's apple pie and weekends at the lake. With that ass she'll get us a mainstream contract next quarter." Finn shuffled through the photos then pushed the file away.

"She has no experience and you want to give her the Garrett account? That's designer lingerie."

"Vivienne and Mere will like whomever you shoot," Mina rolled her eyes, stabbed out her cigarette, and imagined kicking her ex-husband in the crotch since she couldn't actually do it to Finn. Life would be much simpler if men did what she said when she said it. "For some reason those redheaded dykes enjoy the pictorial manifestations of your Napolean complex."

"Christ you're unpleasant."

"Yes, and more importantly I'm right. I was right about Mahette, I was right about Calen Sinclair-"

"One's a mental case and the other's a sexual predator-"

"That's for our lawyers to decide. What matters is that they make my clients and therefore Quincey Press an obscene amount of money. They can sell. Mina rose, and, ready to leave, slid the folder back. "And so will Tabitha Wentworth. But if you don't want her I can always send her over to Hyde."


"Mmhmm," Mina tapped a manicured fingernail against the doorjamb, enjoying Finn's anxiousness. "I'm not adverse to honest competition."

"It's a hardcore porn rag."

"And their man Valentine enjoys those bright-eyed ingenue types. Doesn't he?"

Finn's lips thinned. But they both knew who held the purse strings here-or at least Mina hoped that sort of good sense would convince the photographer that her will be done.

"How did you even meet her? I thought you only looked at walk-ins once a season?"

"Thank you Finn. I so appreciate employees questioning my policies." The rumpled American sighed in exasperation. "You'll shoot at nine tomorrow. Viv will deliver the pieces and stay on to supervise. Meredith's still fox hunting or whatever it is one does in the country."

She was out the door and reaching for another cigarette when she heard Finn curse. Mina smirked. My will be done.