When I didn't respond, he repeated that last word with more strength than before. I found myself nodding slowly as I found myself lost in his deep black eyes, like falling into a deep abyss and not knowing about it until it was too late. “Good,” he said as he left me alone. I was woken from my stupor by the click-clack of heels on stone. I looked at the direction where the sound came from and saw at the archway a flurry of purple cloth and long dark hair that disappeared as the figure walked along the other side of the wall. So there was someone here, I thought. A woman, judging from the dress and long hair. Was she here all these time? The Half-Lilin Chapter 8 by Shin Eris

---

 
From last chapter:

 
I kept on screaming as I felt myself falling down a misty shaft back first. It was very cold. My arms tried to grab on to the sides without success. As I fell, I thought about my life and my destiny... namely that jerk Chris. I kept asking myself, “Why? Why? Why?” I had so many questions that I couldn't even tell where I should start.

Suddenly the mist disappeared and I fell onto a semi-hard object on top of a very soft surface. Immediately, I heard a disembodied female voice saying, “What the fuck?!”

I opened my eyes and I heard that voice again, “Get off me, asshole!”

In my clouded mind, I thought, I've heard that voice somewhere, but I couldn't figure out who it belonged to. It didn't take long for me to find out though as my eyes registered the familiarity of the room I was in. I asked myself, "why am I in my guest room"? My wandering mind was stopped short as I was kicked away from the bed that I seemed to have fallen onto just now.

“Bloody pervert. What the hell do you think you're doing?” Little Tell asked as I got up from the carpeted floor.

Little Tell picked up the alarm clock on the bedside drawer and threw it at me as she cried, “Die, perv, die!”

My mind was screaming, “No! Not the limited edition Star Wars alarm clock!” as I lunged to catch the flying alarm clock.

I was too late to realise that another special edition projectile was being thrown at me. It missed, but gave me a feeling of loss as I saw one of my Macross Special Edition plate clock broke into a hundred pieces. Maybe I should never have treated the guest room as a storage area.

She was about to throw my Naruto figurine (made of terracota!) when I said, “No! Put it down.”

When she didn't respond, I said, “Now, Tell. Put it down. I mean it.”

“First tell me what the hell you're doing screaming and jumping on top of me,” she said, the hand holding the fragile figurine still in the ready position.

I was sweating, that figurine could only be bought in Tokyo. “I... I was sleepwalking?”

“Bullshit! I locked the door.” she said, obviously still suspicious.

“Umm...” I was trying very hard to find a plausible explanation. Just as she raised her hand to throw it though, I blurted out, “I opened it!”

I mentally hit myself as soon as I said it, it sounded so desperate even to my own ears. Little Tell was cocking her head to the side, probably wondering what was wrong with that answer but couldn't figure out what.

Then she said, “Using the spare key? Why?”

“Umm... I wanted to wake you up?”

“Why? We're going somewhere?”

“Yes! Yes, we're going to buy a tree. You still love large trees, don't you?” I asked as I congratulated myself on my quick thinking. I put the alarm clock down on the floor.

She dropped her hand. Holding the figurine with both hands, she jumped in glee while my eyes were fixed on the up and down motion of her hands. I didn't want to see it fall. “Great! When do we go?”

“I was thinking of going shopping after work. That would be around 6, unless you want to find me at the office. We could go out at 5 if you did.”

“Oh... THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU WAKE ME UP SO DAMN EARLY?”

I was barely in time to catch the figurine as it flew directly to my head.

“Oh, great catch! You must've improved sine we were kids. You used to suck at baseball.”

I was breathing hard, glad that I had managed to save the precious figurine, “Don't... ever... do that again, Little Tell! I don't think my heart can take it.”

“Oh yeah? Well, that should teach you not to mess with me. Hey, when did you cut your hair? Is there a 24 hour salon around here?"

My hands flew to my head. “What are you talking about? I didn't cut my...”

She was right. I have a much shorter hairstyle now, though what is this powdery thing in my hair? I looked down at the hand that was rubbing my head just now and saw something that looked like ash. Just then, I noticed a noticeable lack of mounds of flesh on my chest. What happened to my boobs?

My hands moved to feel around my chest and my crotch. Yes! I got my tools back!

“Ricky?”

I looked up, “Yes?”

“If you're trying to turn me on, it's not working.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Oh whatever. Just get out my room, you smell like a forest fire.”

****

She was right. I did smell like a forest fire. I had to spend an extra half an hour scrubbing myself with herbal aromatherapy bodywash just to get rid of the stench of soot and scorched flesh. I had to spend 20 minutes extra just to ensure that there were no more ash on my head.

I arrived at the office early for the first time since a week ago. The feeling was amazing! Okay, maybe not amazing, maybe more along the line of relieved. At least something went well today. I thought I was going to die when Mother skinned me this morning.

Tell the truth though, I didn't know why I even bothered to come to work today. I mean, I had already finished my work. What exactly was I going to do here?

I logged on to the intranet messenger system, “Sue, you busy?”

Shortly after, a message popped up, “not really, wanna grab breakfast?”

“Sure, my boss' not here today, where you want to go?”

“3rd floor.”

“3rd floor? No way. The food there sucks.”

“Meet me at the elevator.”

Her last message gave me this weird feeling of... I don't know how to describe it... I don't know if there's even a name for it. The feeling was something like losing an argument, except that you don't realise you've lost, was wondering why you've lost and was at a loss as to how exactly you lost the argument. It felt like losing a nonexistent argument, as if you're destined to lose in the first place. Really weird feeling. I ended up staring out the window at the other building.

I must've spaced out because the next thing I knew, Sue was shaking my body like a ragdoll. She was asking me how long I intended to make her wait. She looked pretty pissed off.

Breakfast was pleasant. The food wasn't very bad, unlike the last time I've been here. It wasn't very good either. Only after the food arrived and I got a good look at the cook did it finally dawned on me why exactly Sue chose this place.

The new cook was really cute. To tell the truth though, he was no match for Sue, at least in the field of culinary skills.

“So, are you coming to the party tonight?” she asked as she took a sip from her soft drinks.

I asked her back, “What party?”

She gave me a glare and said, “Don't tell me you forgot. Because if you do, well, the outcome won't be so pretty.”

“Kidding, kidding. Don't get your panties in a wad. Of course I remember.” Sheesh, though I still don't have any idea which party she was talking about.

“Party starts at 9, don't be late.”

“Where's the party?”

She gave me a suspicious look, “My house. You totally forgot, didn't you?”

****

I spent the rest of the morning playing Starcraft: Brood War. Sure, I could go and help the other guys finish their work, but it'd be counterproductive in most cases. I wouldn't know how their designs work, and I will only end up making it even slower for them. So, I tried to stay away from getting in their way.

I noticed Chris walking around from cubicle to cubicle talking to his project members. Chris is the project peon for a computer program project ordered by a prominent civil engineering company. The project's quite large and believed to be worth millions, if they could finish it. So far, they've taken 6 months just to decide how they wanted to do it. Today, I saw him carry folders, papers, drinks, and lunch to the more senior members of the project, as well as getting some scolding here, and there.

I sneered. Exactly as you deserve, jerk.

I recalled my conversation with Mother this morning. You know, the one concerning him becoming my husband? The part where we promised to get married when we were older? As I watched his antics, I started mulling over the possibilities of him becoming my husband.

I snorted at the idea. Destined husband, my ass.

Ohhh, why does my sphincter suddenly quiver?

I watched as he walked nearer to my cubicle and I braced for impact.

I was barely in time to avoid the flow of coffee that he purposefully -accidentally dropped my way.

“Ha! Missed me,” I said as I giggled a bit.

He frowned. Probably not expecting me to anticipate what he intended to do.

“Now clean this up,” I said, referring to the coffee stain on one wall of the cubicle, “I want it spotlessly clean by the time I got back.”

I smirked as I head for the gents. He was so predictable. I thought it would be fun to have him as my husband, I'd have a slave that I could bully everyday. My grin got wider with that last thought.

As I walked back from the gents, my mind was full of all the delightful ways of how I would bully him and basically make his life miserable for making my life miserable. I noticed that he actually did a good job cleaning the wall of my cubicle. The moment I sat on my chair though, my eyes suddenly opened wide as I heard a squishy sound from under my butt.

In reflex, I got back up and twisted my body to see what I sat on. I saw yellow liquid sticking to the back of my pants and the seat.

“Ahhh!!! Damn you, bastard! Where the hell did you get the mustard?!”

I heard a boisterous laugh of victory from the cubicle in front.

“Oh, you think you're so damn funny, don't you? This is not the end, asshole!” I yelled as I walked as fast as I could to the gents. I must've looked like a baboon from behind as my ass was the only part of my body that was yellow.

The rest of the day went rather quiet. After that prank, (which forced me to stay in the gents for an hour waiting for my pants to dry), Chris didn't try anything else as he was kept busy by the more senior members of his team. I was plotting so many things against that jerk that it gave me a headache. I ended up playing House of the Dead 2 to lower my stress level.

By 3pm, many people from my office went home. I was sure that Roger will be the punch-card slave again this time. People always went back early when Mr. Stuart was not around and Roger, being the one who always had to leave late was always asked to punch their card for them when he left. If Mr. Stuart found it weird that 20 people punched out at 8pm every time he wasn't in the office, he didn't show it.

Anyway, at 3, I received a mass invitation for a LAN Counterstrike game starting in a few minutes. They called it the Christmas Counterstrike. How appropriate. The people in server room have always been lacking in creativity.

I couldn't resist playing it though, it had been so long since I played Counterstrike. The last time I played was back in college. So I put on my headphone, started the game, looked at the LAN games and found a game titled 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas.' Someone needed to teach these guys some creativity.

As I logged into the game, I found out that there were actually many people playing. I thought many had left for home already. As expected, I sucked at it. I've been way out of practice.

A short while after the game started, an interteam message from Bladerunner appeared asking, “Is there a Patty from IT here?”

I replied with, “Yeah, why?” after killing one of the terrorists.

“Cabbage, Sue wants you to bring your sister along,” he said right before I, Cabbage, got a headshot from Imagunnapwnjoo.

Once Bladerunner died, I sent a reply, “Yeah sure, I'll tell her about it.”

I played until 4. I just had to leave the game because I very embarrassingly suck at it. Besides, I need to go home to my feisty little sister. So I gathered my stuff, turned off my computer and left my cubicle. On the way to the door though, I was blocked by Chris in the cramped lane between cubicles.

I half expected that he would try to pin me down with his weight advantage like yesterday, but he simply stood there calmly. After waiting for him to make a move, I decided that he was just trying to get a rise out of me. So I tried to skirt my way around him, which he moved to block. I tried to skirt my way around him from the other side, which he moved to block as well.

I put my left hand on my hips and said, “OK, what the hell do you want?”

He said in a whispering voice, “Nothing, just want to check on something”.

“Check wha...” I was cut in mid sentence as his knee connected with my crotch. Oh, that really hurt. It felt like my balls exploded. I fell to the floor, my briefcase fell next to me as both of my hands covered my crotch.

“Hm, guess I was wrong. See ya later,” he said as he left me crouched with aching balls.

“You... freakin...fuc...” I whimpered as the pain remained after he left.

That's it. Destined husband or not, no chance in hell I'm going to marry him. Not now, not in a million years, not ever! That geas thing can go stuff itself. I'm NOT going to marry that bastard even if the world falls on me!

Why was I even considering such nonsense in the first place?

****

“What's wrong, bro? You seem pissed off,” Little Tell asked as I walked into the living room.

“Nothing to do with you. So you're ready to go?” I said as I pulled off my necktie.

“Yea, I'll just grab my bag. So where are we going?”

“There's a tree auction at Griffith Park starting around 7. We'll be going to the mall first before going there.”

“Tree auction? What's that about?”

“Well, it's similar to buying trees, except that instead of just picking one and carrying it back home, you have to bid for the trees that you like.”

“Would it end up being expensive?” Little Tell asked, while holding her handbag as close to her heart as possible.

I chuckled, “No, it was more or less the standard. The auction starts at a lower than average starting price. Bidding will be in increments of 5 bucks at a time. If there was a particularly beautiful tree, it may go higher than the standard price, but I've never heard of any tree being sold higher than 3 times its worth.”

“What about defects? Maybe the tree has some illness or some flaws?”

“The auctioneer is a really honest guy. I've chatted with him before. He runs the convenience store at the edge of the city. If there were any flaws, he'd tell us. He insisted before that he only did this for families; his and others; to have fun and be involved in the spirit of Christmas. He said that he was a businessman, not a thief.”

“Sounds like a nice guy. I can see why you wanted to go to this auction thingy.”

“Oh I'm not going there to see him, Tell. I picked that place to buy our tree because of the atmosphere. You'll see. My friend, Sue recorded last year's auction. It was really cool.”

“If you say so, bro. So are we taking the car or the transit?”

“The car. I have a feeling I'll need to juggle your bags.”

She lashed at me with her handbag in reply.

****

“Here you go, number 26. Thank you for joining the auction, Mr Willows,” said the cheerful faced Aaron as I signed the registration form.

“Oh please, Aaron. What's with the formality? It's not like I've never went to your store.”

He grinned, “Just maintaining a sense of professionalism, Rick. Enjoy the auction”.

“Thanks Aaron,” I said as he continued with 'number 27'.

The auction place was a simple setup. A stage in the middle of an open park with seats placed in front of the stage. There weren't that many seats, probably no more than 50, but the area was brightly decorated. Unlike Central Park in New York, we never had much to worry about vandals or street thugs in this part of the city. I assumed all the lighting was meant to give customers a sense of security as well as to attract people who didn't know about the event.

We arrived there rather early. There were plenty more seats available, so we picked the one at the front. Easier to see the tree and easier to leave once we were done with our purchase. Most of those who were already here were couples or a single family man looking for a suitable tree for their homes.

It was not until 8 when the auctions started to pick up in pace. The old auctioneer was very good at giving details of the trees on sale and as a result, many markers were raised and the prices skyrocketed to unbelievable levels. The auctioneer should be given credit for setting a limit to how much the price was allowed to rise though.

There was this one really large tree that Little Tell fell in love with and which she kept bidding for with this well-dressed man a few seats' behind us. The price had reached 3 times the starting price before the auctioneer put a stop to it. To make it fair and fun, he asked each of them to sing a Christmas carol on the stage. Whoever got the most claps gets the tree. The man went on stage first, his singing while wasn't very good, received quite a lot of claps for being a good sport. Little Tell bailed out of the competition when it was her turn to sing. She received a few claps anyway.

I on the other hand received a pinch on the side when I laughed openly at her bright red face.

To tell the truth, I didn't think the tree would fit in my living room anyway.

After losing a few bids, some of which we lost to 6 years old kids, we finally managed to get a tree that was large enough to keep Little Tell happy and small enough to fit into my living room. I paid for the tree, including the delivery fee and left with the receipt and a very happy sister.

“You're right, bro. That was fun. But I think that kid's parents should stop him from overbidding,” Little Tell said as she opened her door.

“Well, it was a fun show. Did you see how much fun they had when they bid for those trees?” I replied as I turned the ignition.

“Yea, those families seems to be having a lot of fun, especially those with kids. I wish we could've all done this when mom was still alive.”

I could tell that her eyes were wetting now, so I pulled out a facial tissue and handed it to her.

“Mom's gone, Little Tell. There's nothing you or I can do to bring her back,” I said as I drove out of the parking lot.

“But still...”

I waved to Danny, another one of the auctioneer's sons whose in charge of patrolling the parking lot. “Mom's in a better place now (I hope), don't worry about her. We're the ones left behind, we should worry about each other.”

She sniffled into the tissue.

“Are you doing anything tonight, Tell?” I asked, suddenly recalling that I got a party to go to tonight. Sue would be so pissed if I didn't go.

“Why? You bringing me somewhere?” she countered as she looked up from the soaked tissue.

“As a matter of fact, I am. A friend of mine is having an early Christmas party and asked me to invite you along. So we'll be going back a bit for you to change and then arrive there at around 10. Unless of course you don't mind going to the party with what you're wearing now.”

“Is it a formal party?” she asked.

“If you're talking about tuxes and long gowns, no.”

“Will I look weird in this?” she asked while gesturing at her clothes.

As I looked at the blue blouse and soft purple shortskirt, I said, “No, I don't think so.”

“Then let's go.”

“You sure you don't wanna change?”

“Absolutely!”

The drive to Sue's place was slow. It seems like this particular time was meant for people to buy Christmas gifts in this city.

“So this friend, how do you know him?” Little Tell asked while looking out into the rows and rows of cars waiting for the traffic light to change.

“It's a she, and you've met her before. Her name's Sue Preston.”

“Doesn't ring any bell.”

“She has dirty blonde hair, pretty face and she called you 'gorgeous' last time.”

“The rich one?”

“Yep. Her house is on that hill over there,” I said as I pointed to the hill in question.

She gave a little whistle, then said, “My, she really is rich.”

“Actually, her uncle was rich. She only inherited the property.”

“When will you marry her?”

I looked at Little Tell, frowned, and almost had to swerve to avoid an oncoming car, “I am NOT marrying her. We're just good friends.”

She gave me a curious look, “Another good friend? I feel sad for you, dear brother.”

“Why would you feel sad for me?”

“Because girls have always considered you as just 'good friends'. You might not know this, but back in high school, you had a reputation as a 'starter boyfriend'.”

“What the hell's that?” I asked as I gave her a short glance.

“You know, the kind of guy who was so cute and so nice that girls thought they'd like to date at least for a week and the kind of guy whom virgin girls practice dating on because they know you won't ever force them for sex.”

I thought of my life back in high school and finally understood so many things, “So, that was why those guys in gym class called me gigolo and pretty boy.”

She snorted, “They don't need to hear about those to start calling you a pretty boy. A mere glance would be enough justification to call you a pretty boy. Your looks may have matured, but you're still a pretty boy to anyone with eyes.”

I groaned.

“So, how many times have you gotten laid?”

I almost drove the car out of the road when she asked that.

“That's none of your damned business. Let's change the topic. When will you go back to college?”

“Let's change back the topic. How many times have you gotten laid?”

“Don't change back the topic. I've already changed the topic!”

“I still want to talk about it.”

“We're here. And for your information, I've been laid many times,” I said, thankful that we've finally arrived.

“How many exactly?”

“Drop it!”

****

“Patty! How nice of you to drop by. For a while there I thought that you weren't coming!” Sue exclaimed as she instructed a maid to take our coats.

The she addressed Little Tell, “Hi, Stella. You may not remember me, but I remember you very well. You look quite like your brother, except for the fact that he has short black hair and you're a blonde.”

“Mom must've switched babies when she was born. None in our family was blonde,” I said.

I grimaced as Little Tell's stilleto heels dug into my feet. Seems like not even steel-toed boots can withstand the penetrating power of stilleto heels.

Oblivious to my pain, Sue asked, “Patty, something wrong?”

“Urgh... nothing... just got... a nail... stuck to my... foot,” I said, as I pinched Little Tell's side in an effort to get her to let me go.

“Oh, that's dangerous, you should take it out real quick. My cousin got a nail stuck in his boot and he ended up getting tetanus.”

“I'll be... okay... don't... worry.”

“Well, come on, Stella. I have some friends you might want to meet,” she said as she took a hold of Little Tell's wrist.

Little Tell finally let go of my feet and I was shifting it back and forth to get rid of the pain.

Sue stopped when she realised that I didn't tag along, “Aren't you coming, Patty?”

“Nah, you go on ahead. Don't worry about me, I know most people here. You girls have fun,” I said, still trying to nurse my feet back to good health.

“OK then. Don't wander too far, mommy will be very upset if you leave without saying goodbye,” Sue said, mimicking the tone of an elderly woman.

“Ha-ha, very funny, Sue. Don't lead my sister astray.”

“No promises,” Sue said with a grin as she and Little Tell disappeared among the crowd.

****

I excused myself after chatting with Mr. Dushkin, more commonly known among people in marketing as Boss Douchebag. I didn't see how or why people called him Douchebag. He seemed like a perfectly polite gentleman to me. Maybe it was because of his 'superior' English accent? Or maybe because of his high nose?

He asked to be excused as he received a phone call from his wife who couldn't make it to the party tonight. He said that she had a bit of a flu and that was enough reason not to show her face in public. Rumours said that she wouldn't even want to be seen with a car that had pigeon poop on it, even if it was hers.

I took this opportunity to get myself a refill of the orange punch. Sue had a cocktail bar open, manned by a guy with a not so neat bow tie, though many seemed to avoid the cocktail section. I couldn't tell for sure whether it was because the guests were trying to stay sober for the drive home or because the burly barman had a visible scar on his face.

“Hey Pat.”

I froze. I could recognise that voice anywhere. I didn't bother turning around. I knew exactly who that was.

“So your... umm... balls feel better now? Or have I smashed it to pieces?”

Goodness Lord. This man is unrepentant.

He grabbed my left shoulder, pushed me out into the garden and turned me around, “You shouldn't ignore me, Pat. I don't like it when you ignore me. We should get along because it would be beneficial for both of us.”

“Beneficial in what way, you damn fag?” I said, trying to turn myself away from him without much success. His grip was really strong.

He made an attempt to show a shocked expression.

“Me? A fag? How come I get to be the fag when you're the one who sucks cocks and gets it up the ass around here,” he whispered, his face was really close to mine.

I felt blood rushing to my face as my vision blurred and the only thing I felt was anger. Anger at him, for being so mean to me. Anger at myself, for making that promise with him. Anger at fate, because I had to fulfill that promise even if I will end up being an abuse victim my entire life.

“Leave me alone, asshole. Go bug someone else!” I whispered with a barely controlled voice as I pushed his arms away.

I struggled as he captured my arms. “What if I don't want to? What if I only want to bugger... oops, heheh... bug you?”

“Leave me alone, sicko,” I said as I renewed my struggles, without any success. Maybe I need to start lifting weights.

“I would leave you alone, for now, if you promise you would come back to my bed tonight,” he said as he twisted my arms and in effect getting me closer to him.

I started to wonder where everyone went. This garden while deserted, was right next to the main hall, where the party was held. How could it be that not a single guest wandered off or looked out the window from the main hall?

I felt his grip on my arms tightened, “You're ignoring me again, Pat. I told you, I don't like that.”

By this time, his hold on my arms were starting to get really painful. So painful in fact, that my eyes started to get watery against my will.

When a single drop of tear fell on his hand, he pulled back in shock and finally let go my arms. I looked up at his face. He must've seen my tears as he looked really embarrassed and regretful. Why? Why would he be embarrassed or regretful? Maybe I translated it wrong. Maybe he simply hated seeing a man cry. It wasn't my fault, I didn't intend to cry.

I turned to leave when he grabbed my hand tightly and pulled me back to face him. I winced at his roughness and he let go of my hands. I was standing there looking down, not knowing what to do. If I stay, he may hurt me again. If I leave, he will pull me back here.

I was wishing that he'd do whatever he wanted to do or say whatever he wanted to say and then leave me alone. I was startled when he put his hands on my arms softly and ushered me to sit on one of the stone ornaments.

“I'm sorry, Pat. I'm sorry for being so mean to you. But you don't know what I've been going through. For a long time, I've struggled, wondering if I was a gay for wanting you. Then I came to a conclusion that I was gay, that I loved you so much it hurts. Hurts because you wouldn't understand my feelings. Hurts because you didn't share my feelings. It made me wretched and angry.”

He paused. His eyes searching my face for some kind of recognition.

Maybe he found something, maybe he didn't. Regardless, he continued, “I know I was never nice to you. Ever since we went to high school, I've been mean and often abusive of you. I won't try to justify my actions, but I wanted you to know that even back then, I considered you as mine. Mine and mine alone. I didn't want any girls or guys to have you.”

He paused when I raised my head and looked into his eyes. I wondered, was that really true? Was he really being mean because he considered me as his? To him, was I nothing more than a piece of property, his piece of property? Was I just a piece of fancy toy that he could break when I didn't function the way he wanted me to? As I looked into his eyes, I found out that I didn't know the answers, and I didn't think I wanted to know. I turned my face to the side.

He held my hand, softly this time, “Then when you came into my room, lay on my bed, next to me, I knew. I knew you were the one for me. I knew I wasn't gay. I knew that I fell in love with a gorgeous woman, with dark-red hair and... uhh... yellow eyes and small fangs...” he paused, “Will you always have yellow eyes and fangs? Frankly, I prefer you the way you are now, brown eyes and normal teeth.”

Then he straightened up, and I turned my face back to look at him, as I wondered if he was done. He grabbed my shoulders roughly again, “You better remember this. You're my woman. Got it? You shall let no one else have you. You're mine. I hope you can come to my place tonight, not for sex, but to chat. Understand?”

When I didn't respond, he repeated that last word with more strength than before. I found myself nodding slowly as I found myself lost in his deep black eyes, like falling into a deep abyss and not knowing about it until it was too late.

“Good,” he said as he left me alone.

I was woken from my stupor by the click-clack of heels on stone. I looked at the direction where the sound came from and saw at the archway a flurry of purple cloth and long dark hair that disappeared as the figure walked along the other side of the wall.

So there was someone here, I thought. A woman, judging from the dress and long hair. Was she here all these time? Was she listening to Chris' confession just now?

I suddenly felt cold and decided that I should hurry back in. Using water from the fountain, I washed my face to get rid of any traces of my tears. After checking my own reflection on the pool's surface several times, I walked back into the main hall, ready to face whatever ridicule from anyone who saw the debacle in the garden.

****

Surprisingly enough, after about an hour chatting with different people, the matter in the garden was never brought up even once. Either everyone was especially polite, which was impossible considering the number of loudmouths we had in the office; or nobody saw the whole damn thing, which was more plausible despite how strange it sounded.

Thankfully, Chris kept his distance for the entire time. I didn't think I would be able to handle anymore of him tonight. A glimpse of purple at the far end of hall took my attention away from the discussion on national economy. I wasn't very sure, but the purple dress has the same colour as the one I saw on the woman from the garden. I couldn't tell what her hair colour was from this distance in this light.

Was she a coworker or was she a friend of Sue? I didn't remember seeing that face anywhere. I would definitely remember that pretty face if I have met her somewhere. Maybe I should find Sue and ask.

Finding Sue was like searching for a particular cow among a herd of similar cows. It was like she was everywhere and nowhere. Whenever I asked a guest where she was, they would say, 'she was right over here' or 'she just left'. When I went to the direction they pointed me, I saw Sue, just for a few seconds, then disappeared again. After a while I gave up and stood at a particular spot in the hall, waiting for her to come this way again.

Soon enough, at about 11pm, I spotted Sue coming my way and flagged her to me. She asked me if I was enjoying the party and whether I was interested in anyone in particular. When I asked her about the woman in purple dress, she grinned as she told me that there were three women in purple dress in the hall. Two of them were married and the other one had an allergic reaction to something in the food and was resting in one of the rooms upstairs. I was curious as none of the description of their clothes fit the one worn by the woman I saw.

Just then Little Tell came up to me from behind.

“Ricky, I'll be going out with a friend tonight. So you'll have to go back alone, okay?”

I shrugged. “Sure, what time will you be coming back?”

She fidgeted a bit, a habit of hers whenever she was nervous, “Umm, I don't know. Probably will be very late. Don't wait for me.”

“Okay, do you bring your keys with you?”

“Yup, got it in here,” she patted her bag.

“How will you be coming home later?” I asked out of routine. I know she could take care of herself.

“Liz will send me home later, ta-ta!” she said as she quickly grabbed her coat and went out the front door.

I turned to Sue, “That was so nice of Liz to volunteer to send her home. Whaaaa, wait a minute! Liz? She's out with LIZ?”

****

I drove back in a less than sparkling mood. I was almost out the door chasing Little Tell when Sue intervened and told me to let her go. I was pissed off. I knew she was an adult, but I just... ahh, damn it! The thought of her going out with Liz, who was definitely bisexual, and leaning more towards lesbianity really sticks in my craw. Maybe deep inside, I didn't want her to grow up. Maybe I wanted her to be my innocent Little Tell forever.

I opened the front door and despite the darkness, immediately recognized the theme song for 'The Simpsons'. I was wondering if I was driving so slowly that Little Tell arrived home first. At least she wasn't spending the night at Liz's place.

Then I heard a female voice, which didn't sound like Little Tell's at all.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. But you can't be serious,” the voice said.

The voice sounded louder, more annoyed this time. “Look, I've had enough of your crap. You make money from ME making money! Discuss a better deal or I'll find someone else to do your job. Got that?”

I crept slowly and silently through the hallway. I intended to jump onto this gutsy thief who broke into my house, used my phone and argued with someone else using the phone in my living room while watching The Simpsons.

I was peeking in through the doorway to determine her position when I saw something that made my blood turn cold.