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BACK TO FRASER'S FRACTURED FICTION Complicated Livesby A. Fraser and Jean Hontz
© Copyright 2005 A. Fraser and Jean Hontz. All rights reserved.
"I suppose you'll be havin' to go back home soon," Gains remarked as they drove down the Cliff Road. "Unfortunately, yes," Gen answered. "I have already received a complaint from my estate manager about my absence." Bertrand had, of course, done no such thing. "You have an estate?" Gains asked. "I own vinyards, and have my own winery," Genevieve replied, enjoying the astonishment in his eyes. "Chateau de Monet. Do you prefer red or white wine? I shall send you a case." "I can't..." he began. She laughed. "I do not think anyone will believe you are accepting bribes from a citizen of France." He grinned. "Good point. White, then. Red wine gives me heartburn." "White it is. So, where are we going this evening?" He looked sideways at her, then carefully negotiated the turn-off from the Cliff Road onto the road into town. "Well," he said casually, "I figured there wasn't much point in offerin' to buy you dinner." Gen did not look astonished. She had already pegged the sheriff as an intelligent and observant man. "How did you know?" she asked. "It's hard to put in words, Gen," he replied. "There's just somethin'...the way you all move, or can sit so still. People fidget. You don't." "I see. How is that you have known this about my friends, and done nothing about it?" "Why should I do anythin', now? They don't cause trouble for the town, and a lot of them have done really good things for Fletcherville. They ain't breakin' laws." He steered the car for a moment, then said, "Though I admit I'm itchin' to bust that Calvert kid on somethin'." Gen laughed, and he grinned. He drove around the downtown area, since he said he'd promised her a tour, and then finally parked the car outside a somewhat dingy-looking establishment. "'Texas Bob's'," Gen read the sign with puzzlement. "But this is Maine." Gains laughed. "Folks in Maine like good country an' western music, too," he said. "I know it ain't the prettiest place in town, but it's a fun place to spend a couple hours. You willin'?" He was thinking of the reaction of his off-duty drinking buddies when he walked into Texas Bob's with this French confection on his arm. Genevieve took his offered arm. "I'm willin'," she replied. _________ "So," Alex said when they were in _his_ car and heading towards the exciting, sophisticated village of Fletcherville, "anything in particular you'd like to do? You haven't had any dinner, so I thought I'd take you out to the Inn." "Oh, that's delightful. Not that we have much latitude in entertainment," she laughed. "But it is a lovely little town." After a bit of her sitting there frowning, he asked, "What?" "I'm trying to decide what to wear to this masque. Perhaps a ball dress from my own time? Goddess knows you can't wear something like that now normally." That made Alex a bit happier. She'd be more covered up than she was at the moment. More covered up than the frilly nothing top she had on now. Thank God for the coat. "Empire waist," she said speculatively. Alex could see it. Her beautiful white breasts mounding, attempting escape...tempting him to, tempting other men to...he gulped. "And you. What shall you wear?" she asked. "I have a perfectly good Armani dinner jacket," he replied, "or a black frock coat..." "Dinner jacket," said Adele promptly. "Don't you dare cover up that ass. Besides, I bet half the men there will be in frock coats." "Yes, dear," he said. "If you weren't driving..." she was laughing. They stopped first at the sheriff's office, where the female deputy on duty gave Alex, in his designer duds, a long, slow look until Adele cleared her throat. Alex signed the missing person report, agreed that, yes, it was a pity, and very sad, but, well, life had to go on, didn't it? People still had to eat, and they'd been inside the house too long, waiting for some word. Heads turned in the Fletcherville Inn when Alex and Adele walked in. It was a pleasant place, not too overboard on the obligatory fishing decor (pun intended), and Cliff Roaders were not entirely infrequent dinner guests. Some people smiled to see Alex Goldanias stepping out with a new girl; a couple of people frowned, thinking he wasn't showing much grief over his missing cousin. Needless to say, the news had spread through Fletcherville in no time. As Alex settled in his own chair, having seated Adele (she had the feeling she wasn't going to break him of this habit- nor was she entirely sure she wanted to), a man came strolling over to their table. He looked a bit like Gains, but only if Gains had been partially blown up and then inexpertly put back together. He only had three fingers on his right hand. "Alex," he said, shaking hands, "good to see you. Sure was sorry to hear about Janine." " Fox," Alex replied. "My sympathies, as well. I know you had mixed feelings about her. Oh, may I introduce Adele? Adele Blakesley, this is Todd Lowry Fletcher, otherwise known as Fox." Adele toned down her usual megawatt smile, "Hullo Fox," she held out her hand. Fox found himself hesitating. What was it about those Cliff Road women that made him want to raise their hands to his lips and kiss them? Instead he shook her hand solemnly. "You knew Janine?" When he nodded, she added quietly, "How dreadful it all is". The tears that appeared in her eyes were no act. She did feel it was all so much a waste. "Yes," agreed Fox quietly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I just wanted to give my condolences. You go on and have a nice evening, okay?" "Thank you, Fox," said Alex. He watched the reporter return to the bar. "Don't cry, Adele," he begged her, although his own voice was slightly choked. "Let's try to forget Janine for the night." "Yes, let's." _________ Heads also turned in Texas Bob's. Nothing like Genevieve had ever been seen there before. Gains found himself in the spotlight of many a jealous or speculating look. He grinned so widely his cheeks threatened to explode. Even though the place was packed--there being not that many alternatives on a Friday night--a table was found for the sheriff and his date. Introductions were made, and Gen greeted everyone with a delightful smile. Absolutely nobody seemed to remember that Americans were now supposed to hate the French. "Two beers, Toni," he told the cowgirl-outfitted waitress who appeared, "an' wings." When she'd moseyed off again, he turned to Gen. "Sorry, Gen, this place ain't got wine." "I did not think it would," she replied with a smile. She was comparing this to the many a high French society soiree she had attended, Jean on her arm, swathed in Dior. This was one hell of a lot more fun. Beer arrived at their table. How Toni managed to get it safely through the drinkers, diners and dancers was a complete mystery. "Wings coming up," she said. She glanced at Gen. "First time here?" she asked. "Yes," Gen replied. "There's line dancing later," Toni said. "Hope Gains can get you out dancing." She moseyed off again, looking for mavericks who were beerless. "'Line dancing'?" Gen asked. She had never drunk beer in her life. Or afterwards, for that matter. She risked a sip. Sacre bleu, how could anyone drink this stuff? "You'll see," Gains replied. "I do hope you dance?" She looked at the whirling, twisting country dances being perpetrated. Measured the beats mentally. It did not look all that different, though somewhat more energetic, than some ballroom dances. "Yes," she replied, making him smile and the corners of his eyes crinkle. Oh, what a darling man. They watched the dancers, drinking beer (it did not seem to get any better, but Gen drank it to be sociable) and Gains attacking the wings with relish when they arrived. He offered one to Gen, for politeness' sake, but she shook her head and laughed. "No, I really cannot," she said. "Do you ... miss food?" he asked. She thought about her answer. That would be something he would learn, if he continued seeing her. Questions had to be weighed, answers carefully considered. "No, not really," she replied. "Time, you see; it erases the memories of what once was." He considered asking her age, then thought better of it. Not something you ask a lady. He decided he really didn't want to know. She looked to be somewhere in her thirties. Permanently. "Excuse me," he bowed and rose. "I'll just go wash the chicken off my hands, and then you an' I will show these folks how real quality dances." While he was gone Gen enjoyed the looks aimed her way. She smiled to several of the men who nodded at her. Friends to Gains? Perhaps. The band, which had been on break for awhile, allowing them to actually talk, warmed up and began playing just as Gains rejoined her. There was little or no hope for conversation now. The place vibrated to the music an the tempo and beat picked up. "Come on down, you cowboys and cowgirls!" The strains of Achey Breaky Heart brought Gains back to his feet, as he held out his hand to Gen. She laughed and took his hand allowing him to lead her out to the dance floor. They were given a bit of a bubble of free space, as the others on the dance floor made room for them, and a line dance formed. At first the others on the dance floor assessed her....abilities. She was the only female in the place not in denim or wearing boots. She had taken one assessing look at the dancers and kicked off her high heels... why not? Then people around them began clapping and singing with the band as they all stepped and stomped on beat, and she lost herself in the music. __________ The waiter in the Fletcherville Inn hovered beside Adele, reeling off the night's specials. Not surprisingly, most of them were fish-related. Adele ordered the flounder, Alex ordered the wine. Once they were alone again Adele said, "So, let me tell you about my friends in Paris." She chattered on, telling him something of her life in Paris. About nights at the local bistro, drinking wine and arguing politics, about museum trips and drives through the countryside, about her studies, about the wretched professor who'd made a pass at her, about her friends' love lives and travails. Her food came, his too, which he'd ordered just for the look of things. Finally he asked, "None of your own love life travails?" He was just the least bit terrified she'd take offense at that. Instead she stopped eating her flounder and met his eyes directly. "No. I flirt a bit, but I'm not ... I mean I haven't...I don't very often." Somehow that made him quite happy. He wondered about that. She was so very unpredictable. One moment tears, the next happy and chatty. No long drawn out snits, no temper tantrums, so far, nor much in the way of seductive teasing. Her teasing was pretty straight forward. She didn't play the same way he was used to. She got angry easily, he'd seen that already, but she seemed to put it behind her with ease. She took his hand and said, "Alex, I don't fall in love very often. Well, truthfully, I've only been in love once before. It frightens me a bit. Because there is so much I don't understand about myself. I don't merely mean finding myself and all that modern pop psychology silly stuff, but about my background, my history, why I am as I am, if I will be..." She sighed and looked away. He was too busy thinking about the "been in love once before" to pick up on the other nuances in that little speech. Did she mean she was in love now? She hadn't said... he'd hoped, but she hadn't said. He toyed with the unappetizing food on his plate. Once, he realized, he would have tucked into the fish with good will. Once it would have had flavour and texture, and the smell wafting up from the plate would have been tempting. Now it was just so much garbage. "I wish I could take you dancing," he said. "But the nightclub is closed for the season, and I think the only other place in town to dance is Texas Bob's. Not really my scene." That made her smile. "You don't suppose...?" she said, laughter beginning to lurk in her eyes. "Oh, lord, Gen trying to line dance in that outfit." Alex chuckled. "Knowing Gains, it wouldn't surprise me. So let's not spoil their fun. Listen, Adele... heredity isn't what it's cracked up to be. My father was an autocrat, a very responsible and sober man who performed his duties and took his position in society seriously. If I'd turned out exactly like him... I wouldn't be here. There are no guarantees. I don't believe in predestination. How in God's name could anyone be predestined to be a vampire? You won't be like your... like him. You don't have to be." She pushed her plate away and began toying with her wine glass. "Yes. I do not intend to be. He's been demanding I return home. I shan't. But I do have to face him one day. And that soon. He's been pestering Julian. I've been merely avoiding him, you see. Now it seems I have a reason to face him." --------------------- After the line dancing, there was more regular dancing, and Gen and Gains gamely kept up--someone had scrounged up a spare pare of cowboy boots that nearly fit Gen. Her hair was straggling out of its elaborate style. Gains had removed his sweater. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken out a woman with such... well, joie de vivre. Pretty damn funny, when you thought about that. The band took another break, and exhausted dancers sank into seats. Toni and the other waitstaff became very busy, serving beer to refresh parched throats. Gen removed the rest of the pins and let her hair, er, down. Gains' eyes lit up. He reached out hesitantly and touched a stray blonde lock. "Oh, don't," said Gen, suddenly serious, suddenly worried. "Gains, you are a dear, dear man, but do not fall for me." "I ain't worried you're goin' to bite," he replied. "I... I have to return to France," Gen said, though she had never less wanted to go home. "I know. Does that mean we can't have some fun tonight?" "No," and she smiled. "As long as it remains fun." He patted her hand. "You worry too much, Gen," he said with a grin. "I could fall for you, mind," he added truthfully. "But let's not talk about that. It's just you have beautiful hair." "Thank you." She eyed his regulation short back and sides. "I am afraid I cannot say the same for you." Gains choked on his beer. "Reckon I deserved that." The band returned, and Gains got up, holding out his hand. "A couple more dances," he pleaded. "An' then we'll leave." "Of course," she smiled. And once more, the music took them. ______ Alex looked at Adele for a long time before answering. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked. "Knock his lights out for you, maybe?" Her laughter escaped before she could stifle it. She slapped her hand over her mouth, all too aware that they were being watch and measured. She forced herself to sober. But her eyes were still dancing. "Oh, that would be wonderful. But as much as I'd enjoy it... No, I don't want to burn my bridges. He's the only family I've got. I think, if he realizes, once he knows that I am not going to fit into his plans for me, he'll relent. He does love me. I've never doubted that. And, as I'll remind him, I'm my father's daughter." ---------------- It was after midnight, well after midnight, when Gains brought Gen home. Being an old fashioned sort of fellow, he escorted her to the door, and came in with her. She offered him a drink, he accepted an ice water. "Look bad for the Sheriff to be drivin' drunk." Mrs Jenkins directed them to the living room (Alex still not quite ready for that den) and headed off to get him his ice water. Gen and Gains entered the living room to find Adele curled up on Alex's lap listening to his voice as he read to her. Gen desperately wanted to know who'd selected the book. It was entitled _Moonbeams and Magic_ by the badly named Janelle Taylor, but despite a title that seemed to promise Wiccaninity, the passage Alex was reading seemed to concern the lovelorn fates of intergalactic pirates. Adele looked up and after one look at Gen gave out a whoop of delighted laughter. "Don't move, cherie," Gen said coming over to plant a kiss, French style, on Adele and Alex's cheeks. Alex looked as if he'd rather not have been caught quite so intimately with Adele. But whether it was she herself or Gains who made him uncomfortable Gen wasn't sure. Gen, on balance, thought it was good for him. Adele was still laughing. Gen was wearing the borrowed boots; her hair was a fright - well what could be seen of it under the cowboy hat that was perched on her head. She grinned at Adele, and pushed the hat back, but didn't take it off. One got the general feeling that only a nuclear explosion could have pried that hat off Gen at the moment. "Reckon I'd best be on my way," Gains said once he'd drunk the water and socialized for awhile. "I will walk you to the door," said Gen quickly. She did so, and stood there on the front step with him. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Gains," she said. "I ain't never kissed a vampire before," he grinned. "D'you mind if I try?" "Not at all." It didn't quite take a nuclear explosion, after all. "If I ever hear tell you're back in town an' you ain't called me," he said when he could talk, "I swear I'll take out a search warrant an' come lookin' for you." "I promise not to resist arrest," Gen said solemnly. "Good night, Gen." "Au revoir." When his car was out of sight, she picked up her fallen hat and went back inside, and slowly sank into a chair across from the couch where the twosome were still pursuing space pirates. "So, I guess you had a good time,
then," said Alex, mouth twitching slightly. Gen sighed and put the hat back on
her head. "Yippee kay ai."
The usual. Adele with the food, the other two with their vin de maison.
Adele found herself toying with her food. Adele did her best not to laugh. Good thing Gen was avoiding eye contact
with her. "Hmmm. Well, all right. I'll buy you something else. Pick you a
birthday. Hmmm. How about we pick one for when we are in Venice this
summer. We'll have a lovely night." "I'm sorry you couldn't go, Gen," he said to
her. "No," she confirmed. |
