Phoenix Rising

4. Of Monsters in Men

It came like a blunt whack to the face.

Phoenix figured out just how unwanted he was in Farthing. At the mall, on the bus, and at the plantation of Marco And Lucinda Roulliard.

No witty ice breakers could break the tension here. For the first time in a while, he felt the weight of anxiety in his gut. He welcomed it back as much as a deer does a hunter during open season.

Lucinda was not an easy woman to like, in the most polite of terms. No matter how much shit she could possibly buy him, Phoenix let snarky comment after comment slip under his breath, burying himself even further away from her heaps of dough. Like any teen, he felt a little entitled to a bit of spoiling.

Marco, on the other hand, seemed nice. Phoenix wondered why he stayed with a woman so hateful when there were plenty of kind fish in the sea. After the man used a handy boot scraper on the porch, Marco led them deep into the house.

The first thing that popped out to Phoenix was the staircase to the right of the door. White and wooden planks with glass railing coiled up three levels like a spring. At the top, an intricately delicate chandelier hung regally from the crowned ceiling. This place is nice as hell. What could they possibly do for a living to afford a place like this?

"It was flipped four years ago," Marco said and at first Phoenix worried he'd spoken aloud. That would be disastrous. Contrary to how he behaved, deep down he wanted this place to work out. And there was no way that would happen if they knew how much of an ass he was. Might as well be a burden to rich people instead of the working class, right? "The contractor couldn't keep up with the costs of renovation; they lost nearly every penny they put into the property. When they hit bankruptcy, they were forced to sell the house in a short sale. That's what I do: orchestrate foreclosures, and then flip them for twice, sometimes triple, the amount they were sold for. But Lucy fell in love with this house the moment she walked in, so we bought it instead."

Okay, so maybe Marco Roulliard was kind of a dick. A dick who liked to buy his wife mansions, but a dick nonetheless.

"So, you're the guy who takes someone's house from them?" They pushed through a swinging door into the kitchen - which was three times the size of any normal person's. "Not exactly noble work."

Well, you should just pay for your bus ticket to Hell because you just signed your death certifica - "I guess not. It pays for the life I worked hard to make for us. And after everything with the-"

"Marco!" Hissed Lucinda.

His skin tanned from generations growing up in the Texas sun showed more than laugh lines.

Phoenix tried to imagine what could be troubling him when his family had clearly lived a comfortable life. But all he could sense was a deep heartache suppressed so far into Marco's past that it was impossible for Phoenix to guess.

"I don't mean to pry -" He started, but he was quickly shot down.

At the stove, Lucinda turned sharply toward him, "Then don't."

○ ○ ○

Work was infuriating. He dreaded it more than running into Marco in the hallway. In the rare chance someone would walk into the store, he'd be forced to plaster happiness onto his face and pretend this job wasn't the nail in his coffin. While he didn't really have to worry about customers making more than thirty seconds of awkward small talk, Marco actually perked up when he seen Phoenix. He always kept up the conversation, no matter how forced Phoenix's replies were. Once, he'd even followed him halfway into the bathroom to talk cars.

Two weeks. Just half a month and he was already pushing his limits. He really didn't want to blow up on someone so early in the game.

The shuffling of multiple pairs of feet almost brought his head up from his phone. Almost. He was reading some owner's manual for a car he doubted anyone had seen on the road for two decades. But as Marco said, Cars are like wine. The older they are, the better.

"Thanks, come again." Phoenix recited, handing a girl with snake bites her bag.

"It's "Thanks for shopping with us, please come again."" Junior said, checking the length of his dark bangs with his forefingers.

He rolled his eyes while he tucked his elephant's uniform back under his belt, "So? I don't see you working. You sit there and play on your phone or check out girls that would never go for you."

"Oh, bite me, white boy. What's got you in such a bad mood? It usually takes ten minutes to get you pissy."

"YOU TIME IT?" Phoenix yelled, causing Junior to burst into a fit of laughter. After a moment, Phoenix deflated. His coworker was relentless. His immaturity angered him but at the same time, it was hard to stay mad because the guy was never serious.

"Excuse me? Excuse me! I'm ready to checkout!"

Reagan Mulvey.

Junior sees the look on Phoenix's face; he looked between the two. Phoenix doesn't meet her gaze, desperate to not be recognized. "Uh, I can help you."

With a small breath of relief, Phoenix sneaked away from the counter. But he doesn't make it back to the staffroom.

"You." Her whiney voice accused, stopping Phoenix dead. "What the hell are you doing back? You've got a lot coming to you if you think you can waltz back here after what you did."

Fuck. He turned back, a frown cursing his face. "You two were more than friends, weren't you Mulvey? That's why you're such a little-"

Reagan's porcelain face split in rage, going red as a tomato. Every word was choked out between sob-hiccups. That's unattractive. "How dare you! How dare you say anything about Dove, you-you psychopath! You ruined her! You took her from me!"

"Ray... calm down. I'll pay for this and meet you in the car." A soft voice, reassuring came from behind her, and a ivory hand held her wrist. The wind was knocked out of Phoenix. The sight of her was one to behold. And he wanted to. The girl's once blonde hair had returned to its natural chestnut color.

He watched Reagan retreat out of the dimly lit store, and allowed himself to be hopeful. She might talk to him! After all this time! He met her behind the register. "How are you, Frey?"

She didn't match his intense gaze. "I didn't spend the last year building myself back up to see you again."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "Wha-?"

"I just wanted to tell you I'm not looking to be friends again. Reagan's not wrong, there's something wrong with you. A-And it's dangerous, so it's best we stay estranged. Goodbye."

He sped around the counter, grabbing her hand in his. They both stared at their intertwined fingers. Her skin was soft; he relished in the moment. But her voice brought him back to reality and she ripped her hand away.

"Please, don't do this, Phoenix." Hearing his name on her tongue sent shivers down his spine. But he noticed she hadn't looked into his eyes the entire time. She hates me so much she can't even look at me? Frey raced out of the store the second she got her receipt.

He fucked up. Bad.

- - -
Mostly unedited :P

There is now a small cast for all who are interested in knowing how I picture our MCs! Let's

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