Unholy Breaches

Chapter 2: Red like Roses

The next day...

POV: Paul

It's my favourite time of the day again, I routinely lift my chin up to peep at Sam's window. My Sammy Whammy. Much to my delight I see a figure in the window, could it be? I intensely stare at the figure in the window to detect whether it is my babz, my bubba boo boo. It is! I can't believe my eyes. My cheeks go rosy like cherries, like red wine, like my favourite red shirt.

He is arguing with someone I can't see, his hands are flailing in the air and his lips are moving, cursing angry words in the direction of who he is talking to.

Who could have upset him? Could it be a celebrity slave that is trapped behind the walls of his castle? Perhaps I should investigate. Getting to my feet, I wander quickly from the couch towards the front door of my house. My hand stops just inches away from the handle, what was I thinking?

I couldn't just show up at the front door of the sparkling Sam Smith's castle, I needed to have a plan. Luckily, I had an old friend who had based themselves as a cook in the castle many years ago. Now was my time to reach out for help. 

POV: Sam Smith

Today was not my day. My glitter eye shadow had gone missing and my eye-liner was crooked. Not to mention I'd chipped the sparkly neon pink nail polish that was streaked neatly over my toe nails. The only thing that was making this day bearable, was my gorgeous Paul Breachy. His ranga hair was a ruffled mess and his eyes shone like opals.

My cook, Cheryl, bought me a glass of champagne and bubbles. "There, there, your highness," Cheryl cooed, "I'm sure you'll meet your love soon enough." Cherly was old. Almost deceased, and yet even she had found love to the hot, masculine Quran.

"I'm so done with this life!" I groaned, "I want a little bit of excitement, some scandal!"

Cheryl rolled her eyes and waved her hand at me, before sulking off to the kitchen deep in conversation with Quran over text, dust filtering from out of her pants.

"You're looking bland this morning," came the annoying voice I hated hearing, "heehee."

I groaned again. "What do you want Michael?" I asked, taking a swig of my champagne and bubbles.

"I wanna know where the glitter on your eyes gon' girl!" Michael replied, clicking his fingers and twirling in his rainbow flare pants.

"Today is not my day Mickey," I replied, "everything is going wrong and I don't know what to do!"

Michael looked at me with one eyebrow raised, "girl, who's the one sitting on the throne bitch?" He asked, his voice lined with sass, "cos if you don't realise that you got the power in the world to do anything you want, then I don't know what you think you're doing." I looked up at him, I knew he was right, Michael was always right. "You're right," I said standing up and spreading my arms out, "bitch I do got the power!"

We started chanting, "that's right!" He said, "You tell 'em' girl."

And that is when Unholy started playing on the old time radio in the corner of the room.