Thursday, February 23, 2012

Silver Shorts Week 8: Hearts in Limbo

This week I used the prompt:  "We fell in love..." and came up with my story, Hearts in Limbo. I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget you can download the entire anthology for free at the Silver site. All you need is an account, and those are free too.  Enjoy!

Hearts in Limbo

How the hell did we ever get to this point?

We're sitting together in the lawyer's office. Well, together is a misnomer, especially considering the reason why we're here. We're occupying the same space, but that's about all.

Chaz is sitting on the large burgundy leather chair on the other side of the room. Button's in his lap. Button's our only child. And by only child, I mean our champagne Pomeranian, whom we both adore. The fact that he's sitting with Chaz means nothing; our puppy would never choose sides. He loves me just as much as Chaz does. I mean, as much as he loves Chaz. Freudian slip.

"Kent, you're not paying attention."

I jerk my head up at the sound of my name. Chaz's lawyer, D.E. Fenestra. I swear that his initials stand for dirty and evil. He's pure bastard and definitely out for blood.

"We're discussing the beach house in Malibu."

Ah, yes, the beach house. Lots of happy memories there. I've always loved that place. Without replying, I pretend that I'm studying the screen of my iPad, giving them the impression that I'm researching something important and relevant to this current situation, but in actuality, I'm sneaking peeks at pictures I've taken and stored there. Most of Chaz. So sexy. So sweet.

I remember the time we were on the beach in front of the house, playing with Button, and these two hot guys walked up and introduced themselves, and the next thing we knew, we were all back in our bedroom, getting to know one another in a very intimate way.

That was fun.

Does Chaz remember? I dart a glance at him from beneath my carefully curled eyelashes. He's not even looking at me. Damn.

"The beach house, Kent."

That's my lawyer now. Ms. Donatella Donofrio. Man-eater to her friends. Frankly, she scares the pants off of me. Not that that's hard to do. The only reason I retained her is that she's my best friend CeCe's sister. And she's good. But gruff.

"So, are we agreed?" Dirty & Evil continues, twirling his ridiculous moustaches in a Snidely Whiplash sort of way. All right, I made that part up. He has no moustaches. But I swear if he did, he'd be twirling them.

Donatella nudges me, so that means I'm supposed to say something here, but since I haven't really been listening, I don't know what.

"Um, just a minute," I mumble, as I move to the next picture. The beach party we threw last Fourth of July. Chaz buck naked, holding a snake in his hand. Not a real one, of course, don't be silly. One of those cheap ones that you light and they curl and writhe, extruding a faux black snake body. For when the real thing is illegal. Whatever.

He looks so hot, and I've caught him with the most adorable expression on his face. Like a little boy with his finger caught in the cookie jar. Just makes me want to cuddle him forever.

So, why are we here again?

I glance at him, and he's openly staring at me now. They all are. Button yips, his small pink tongue protruding in a happy pant. Little does he know.

His Daddies are getting divorced.

Ugh, I do not feel well at all. My stomach is churning, and I don't think it's because of lunch, which I had with Cece and her sister. Even though Donatella's presence was a little off-putting, the food was delicious. Pad Thai, with satay on the side. I loved it, but now it's sitting heavy inside of me, and I'm afraid if I don't move quickly, something unpleasant is going to occur. Something neither attorney will enjoy.

I stand, placing my hand delicately over my mouth to stem the rising tide. I know that excusing myself would be the polite thing to do, but I'm afraid that if I try to speak, I won't be held accountable for the consequences, so I simply bolt instead.

Now where was that damn bathroom? Oh yeah, right here.

This building has pretensions of glamour, but its biggest claim to fame is that Marilyn Monroe got divorced here. I mean, met her attorney here, who filed her divorce. At least, that's what I've heard. Right now, I don't really care. Faux marble, or the real thing, it's all one to me, as I find an open stall, and lunch comes rushing back.

When I've done all I can, I sit back on my heels, teetering uncertainly before I lose my balance and find myself sprawled flat on my back. Great. I feel even more ridiculous than I did before.

Looking up, I'm startled to find Chaz standing over me. He looks concerned. Maybe he's afraid I've barfed on his cashmere coat, the one I stole just because it still has his scent on it. I know it's too hot to wear it, but so what? I did, anyway.

He reaches for my hand, further surprising me, and pulls me to my feet. His other arm contains Button, who is trying to get to me, but he has a pretty good grip on him, and his struggles are futile.

Now my humiliation is complete. This is not the way I wish to be remembered. Not at all.

Dammit, don't cry, I tell myself, feeling tears prickling the corners of my eyes. Don't do this, don't do this…

Too late, I've done this. I can feel them leaking down one cheek, then the other. I turn away so he can't see any more than he already has. Besides, I'm sure my breath is beastly now, and I need a drink badly. Water, that is.

I charge for the sink and turn the tap, running water into my cupped hands, which I guzzle. Carefully. Well, as carefully as you can guzzle and not be considered a pig. And oh hell, I'm babbling now.


He's standing behind me, I can feel his shoe bump against mine. Gucci loafers. Nice ones. We have great taste. Except when it comes to men, apparently.

"How did we end up here?" he asks plaintively.

I raise my eyes to the mirror, stare into his reflection. There's that little boy look again. It goes straight to my heart.

"How did we end up here?" I echo, turning so that I can see the real thing. Why does he have to be so handsome? And so adorable? And why do I still have to want him so badly, despite everything?

"We fell in love..."

He holds out his arm, the one that isn't holding our dog, and I curl myself against him, grateful for his warmth, pressing my face against his vest. He smells wonderful. I've missed this.

We stand there for a long while without speaking, our hearts in limbo, along with our lives.

I'd love to hear any comments or suggestions! 

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

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