Vice (H.S)

CHAPTER 14 - LOST AGAIN

My heart pounds as my driver pulls up to the gate. The ornate gold detail of the Paramount sign glints in the early light; it's just past sunrise. I feel the surge as blood rushes through me, arms tingling, cheeks flushing and growing warm. My car door opens and shuts, muffled against the morning air. It's cool, the sort of strange October chill that disrupts California weather.

I could lie to myself, the same way I lied to mother. I left my gloves at the studio, mother. I've called ahead and they've agreed to open the doors for me. I won't be late, I promise.

My driver nods in my direction, dipping his head in quiet confirmation. He will return for me in half an hour. If he knows the real reason I'm here, he says nothing.

I could lie to myself, but there are no illusions here.

I want to feel good. And he makes me feel good.

So here I am.

Stage 6.

The doorknob is cold in my hand, heavy. It's unlocked— a good sign. Or perhaps an all-too-different sign, one condemning my bad behavior, confirming my reason for being here. I lean my full weight against the large door and it gives.

The stage is dark, just as I remember it. A few small lights illuminate a corner of the space, and there I see his silhouette. For a moment, I am petrified with longing, seized with fear and want. He sits, scribbling hurriedly into a journal, muttering along to the song— Ella Fitzgerald; music drifts tenderly from a nearby radio, somewhere in the room. He couldn't have heard me come in. Even the click of my heels is concealed by the song, the distracted sounds that come from his concentrated face. I take a step towards him

Be brave, Winnie. What did you come here for? What did you want?

"Harry, I—" my voice comes out breathlessly. But the second his head whips up, bright eyes meeting mine, I lose my words.

Nothing.

Sweet, sweet nothing.

Not a single thought enters or exits my brain as he stands.

Tall. There's a thought; a single thought. He's so tall.

And shoulders. His broad shoulders strain against his thick green sweater.

And then he's in front of me, and all I can say is: "Hi."

"Hi." His lips quirk up into a sly smile. He gives me a once-over, eyes dragging up and down my body, but he remains silent as his arms cross against his chest.

I should say something. "I needed... I needed to see you."

He takes another step towards me, hands reaching to pull my shoulders close. He looks... exhausted. Violet beneath the eyes. It's early, after all.

He leans his forehead against mine. But still, he says nothing.

"I woke up this morning and I needed to see you. So here I am." I try again.

Say something, I silently beg. His thumbs lightly stroke my arms through the sleeves of my dress.

Finally, he speaks, his voice rough and warm, like he hasn't said more than a few words since being asleep. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"I didn't." I clear my throat, insecurity creeping in. "It was a lucky guess, I suppose." He nods, letting out a deep exhale.

He takes a step back, breaking our contact, moving to turn the radio quieter, gently shutting his journal and tucking it in between a stack of books.

"Where are you going dressed like this?" Even with his back turned, I can hear the smile in his voice. I can picture it perfectly.

I smooth the skirt of my new outfit. "Church."