Ascending

Chapter Ten

Her room is dark. The curtains are drawn against the setting sun and the only light is being emitted from the flickering fire.

Sloan stands facing the door with a paint pallet in one hand and a long brush in the other. She looks over the large cart of paint to her right and selects a paint with an unknown color.

"I heard this rumor," I start, "that painting works better when you can see what colors you're using."

"Shut up," Sloan replies. She tilts her head examining the canvas. "I'm trying something."

I walk around and try to make out the pattern on the canvas. "Is it working?"

"I have no idea," Sloan replies. She turns towards her servant who is standing in a corner. "Goldberge take this to my study and turn on the lights."

Once the painting is gone and the lights are on I can see Sloan. She is wearing dark orange, velvet sweatpants, and a sliver lace corset. I have no idea how Sloan wears them, I find corsets restricting and they make it hard to breathe.

Even after changing out of my dress and replacing it with a white shirt and black evening skirt, I still feel overdressed compared to Sloan.

She crosses her arms and looks at me. "Did you need something?"

"I just wanted to talk," I reply, making good on my promise. "We haven't really had time to lately."

"You haven't had time." Sloan corrects. "I've had plenty."

"I haven't had the time." I concede dipping my chin. "I regret and I'm sorry that I stopped coming around. But I'm here now, so please, what's going on in the world of Sloan?"

Sloan rolls her eyes and looks towards her bed. Which just so happens to be bolted to the wall. That's new.

"When did you do that?" I gasp?"

"Oh," Sloan shrugs, "a couple of months ago."

There is enough space underneath the bed that I don't have to duck when I step under. There is a large television against the mural of planets Sloan painted, and three deep purple couches sit in a horseshoe facing the television.

"Sit," Sloan says flopping down into the suede couch.

I fold my legs under myself as I sit to face her. I pull one of the many decorative pillows on my lap and begin to fiddle with the golden tassels. We sit in a thick silence before I click my tongue a look at her.

"So, what's his name?" I ask with a smirk.

Sloan lets out a small growl and looks at her door. "Fucking Marcus can't keep his mouth shut."

"Answer the question!" I demand with a grin.

Sloan sighs and pulls her own pillow into her lap. "His name is Lance."

"Lance?" I muse, eyebrows raised. "Okay, how long have you know him? Where did you meet him?"

"I met him, at the-, I met him at the paint store," Sloan blushes.

"That's perfect!" I exclaim. "Soulmates!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Sloan giggles. "He was there buying dye to put in his brother's shampoo."

"So he has a sense of humor. That's always admirable."

"We've been seeing each other for seven months now. We talked last week and he wants to get married."

"What?" I demand. "But you're only sixteen."

"People younger than me get married every day," Sloan replies. "I hear most servants get married as soon as they turn fourteen so they can combine incomes. There is no law against me getting married at sixteen."