Pierce and Scarlett are two unique fragments who cross pathways in a low-end motel. He is running away from his haunted past, while she is trying to build a future from broken pieces. As the pair collides in a series of trying events, they must figu...
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15 | The Date
A yellow ombre of colour dances across the room from the small collection of candles scattered across the table. Accompanying the flickering glow is the soft hum of Scarlett's voice. I walk deeper into the old diner and watch as Scarlett sways in front of the stove.
She's labouring over a frying pan filled with two pieces of steak. There's an assortment of spices and sauces gathered along the kitchen bench.
The oven alarm pings which makes Scarlett jumps. She puts the metal tongs down in favour of grabbing the oven mittens resting on the oven rail. Scarlett grabs a tray covered with baked potato chips on it. She places it on a wooden block, then swirls around to face me.
"Hi, Pierce," she says.
"How'd you know I was here?" I smile.
"Because you're not so great at creeping around."
I ignore Scarlett's comment, then move to lean against the bench. Scarlett redirects her attention to the frying pan. Her short black dress falls mid-thigh and clings to her body like a snake.
"Do you want some help with something?" I ask.
"Actually, yes. There's a bottle of wine in the fridge. Can you put it on the table with the glasses?"
"Sure." I nod.
I grab the bottle of red from the fridge, then collect the glasses from the counter and place them on the closest table. There's already cutlery and napkins set which makes it easy to guess where we're sitting in the abandoned room.
Cracking the bottle open, I pour the wine into the glasses, then set the bottle down. I look towards the kitchen to see her dishing up.
"What next?" I call out.
"Take a seat because dinner is ready."
I grab a seat and wait for Scarlett to come. When she enters the room, she places the plates on the table and then shuffles into her side of the booth. The plush seating makes her gasp with relief.
"This looks amazing," I compliment.
"Thank you." She smiles. "It's one of the only dishes I know how to cook. Ricky taught me when I first moved here."
"Ricky," I mutter. "You seem to be very close to Ricky."
"Yes." She nods. "He's my only source of family now."
"You've still got me, though." I smile.
"Perhaps."
I take my fork and stab into the juicy piece of steak. The marinade pools into the middle of the plate. I dip the cube of meat into the puddle before taking a bite. The mixture of flavour explodes in my mouth and I grin.
