Black and White - Chapter 7: Don't Forget the Red Carpet.
Author's notes: Part seven of the series.
Contains good advice, fingering (particularly thumbing), maybe's, and firearms. As with my other stories, don't be afraid to show me some love. Exercise this with the usual rate-comment protocol. You know the drill. I send you all my thanks. Oh, there's no yiff yet, but there will surely be some in the future.
Everyone is encouraged to tell me what they want to see next. Please, please, please. Your input will be considered in writing the next bits.
Black and White - Chapter 7: Don't Forget the Red Carpet.
It had become a regular occurrence. Douglas left me e-mails before I went to school on a daily basis, and I'd have them returned that following night. If things didn't go this way, he'd make it up to me by sending me a photograph of what's happening.
What happened? Oh, nothing too exciting. He could tell me how he'd meet stars and walk through the same corridors, and have his room beside other Hollywood celebrities. He showed me what his stylist did to him. Now he had a bad boy cut. In his last photograph, he was against the green screen. Neon green faux hawk, a brown leather biker jacket, and denim jeans.
He said it'd be one of those survival movies. He didn't quite exactly say if it was going to be an escape from a twisted asylum, or those movies with radioactive freaks who want nothing more than to eat some raw flesh. After a few days, he showed me his processed poster, and my, it looked so stunning.
He had a pistol and a flashlight in both his paws, the same way an NYPD officer crosses and supports each limb with the other. A determined look on his face. He looked locked and loaded, as though picking something out in the distance. Dark clouds circled overhead, and beside him, his trusted bike. The background showed an industrial grunge scene, and his neon collar glowed with the chemicals. "What happens when partying goes wrong?" was captioned.
He looked like one of those really kickass teenagers. I could hardly make out my best friend. His eyes maintained the deep hazel hue to it, but if anything, I wouldn't believe it if not for his self-disclosure. The best part of it is that I'm best friends with this budding talent, and he had been in love with me for the longest time, and I guess I have fallen in love with him.
It drove me crazy, believe me. How long has it been?
At most, the incident at the basement had just been two weeks. I never counted. My mind strayed here and there, and there really was no point in missing it.
So you tell me. Why, oh, why? Dawdle on something that couldn't be there. As much as I've given into this thing, I'm not about to pursue it just yet. Maybe. I just hate being made to hope, and as much as I thought Mr. Key's thaumaturgy was effective, it wasn't.
By this day, I began to think: Perhaps, I haven't been pawning enough secrets to make it work; maybe there really was no magic... or worse... IT COULD BE POSSIBLE THAT DOUGLAS WISHED TO NO LONGER LOVE ME! Oh, god...
Please let it be the first... I promise to share more secrets.
We're pushing our last three weeks of school. Today, Friday. An exam. Pencil and eraser in check. TGIF. But it won't let up until we go through hell. Not to mention, I know the seat next to me wouldn't be occupied.
Econ exam was done. I'd finished an hour before the deadline, but this was mostly because I had nothing else to write. While I think I do so well in most my classes, this was something I wasn't particularly pleased with. Like, come on. I can't even remember being taught what had appeared in the exam. Bad pupil. Worse instructor. It would seem like both nature and nurture are ganging up on me. But like I always believed, beat something up hard enough and it'll learn. It wasn't an excuse, but it's unlikely I'll fail.
I went home promptly to sleep. Those things can just drain you, and you know there's no helping it. Final exam thirty percent of what's needed. I wanted to curl up and just sleep. Long, uninterrupted sleep. But I could not.
A dear friend had gone to me before the exam. He'd offer me the gentlest smile. Someone who had a good thing or two to say. His name was See, and how he had seen right through me was surprising. Oh, he's a bear, if it matters.
" Hey , what's up?" It wasn't quite a question. If it was anything, it was an entreaty. To me, it seemed more like: Hey, can I offer you something for a second. No question. Just pure, brisk assertion.
I nodded, and smiled politely. He began.
" Thought so. Maybe you should call him. Someone must be doing some missing. Maybe both of you. "
That would have been the best thing I've done for the day. If I followed what the bear named See said after what he saw.
So here I am. At home. Day had come to an end. I arrived just about as the sun was swallowed by the sea and it was dark again. I had my paw around my cellphone, but I was thumbing over the keypad. I swear that my 2-DEF button was there a moment ago, but now it's a black blotch of rubbed-off paint. It was the evening, but still no afternoon sleep. My phone wasn't set off by the text alert. And I lay bothered by what happened earlier this afternoon.
Considering that good things do happen to those who wait, I didn't. After all, I've had the best news in my life since this morning:
Faint buzzing just outside my bathroom door as I was showering, speakers pumped. I knew it was Douglas, and his morning mail. I somehow rigged my machine to do notification wonders like that.
YOU'VE GOT MAIL: Re: Hollywood's one hell of a bitch for taking you away from me.
Fr: [[email protected]](%5C)
To: [[email protected]](%5C)
Evan,
I go home tomorrow. Don't forget my red carpet. I'll be there to stay the week. Until then.
Douglas.
Good Lord. I am so tired. But even still, I know I can't sleep even if I tried.
I often get asked what the best part of waiting is. Let me put it this way. It's now midnight, and tomorrow's today, and today is the day I meet and greet Douglas Grove.