Chapter One: New Flower

The lights flashed repeatedly in Daphne's face as Desmond led her into the bustling nightclub. She really didn't know why she agreed to go out with him; true, he was nice, and a cousin of the infamous Quentin Collins, but she really didn't know anything about him. The only reason she didn't decline was that he mentioned casually that Quentin frequents the club twice a week.

"Here we are," Desmond said happily, breaking Daphne's concentration. She looked up expectantly, and he waved his hand over a small table for two. Pulling out a chair, he added, "Best seat in the house."

Daphne smiled wanly, and after a moment asked, "Why?"

He nodded toward a small hallway, and said, "Next to the bathroom."

Daphne laughed uncertainly and fidgeted with the small scented candle in the middle of the table. A fast instrumental rock song came over the speakers, and Desmond started tapping his fingers on the table. He smiled at her and asked, "Care to dance?"

Daphne averted her eyes and tried to smile kindly. "Sure," she said, not really meaning it.

Desmond came behind her and pulled out her chair as she stood up. He took her hand and they walked into the center of the dance floor. All around her, Daphne could see couples dancing so close together there wasn't even any room for air to seep through. She nervously wondered if this was what Desmond expected of her when he asked her to dance, but he merely started moving to the beat and silently motioned for her to do the same.

The dance was moving along blandly until a tall, dark-haired gentleman came along and smiled at Desmond, saying, "Mind if I cut in?"

Desmond laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Sure, man."

Daphne watched in amazement as her "date" walked away, leaving her with a man who could be anyone from a murderer to a rapist, and who could easily overpower her. The man smirked at her incredulous expression as a slower, more seductive beat sounded over the crowd. The man reached over and pulled her close to him, and started moving along to the song. Daphne did her best to try and separate herself from her overzealous dance partner, but he kept pulling her still closer until she could smell the sweet cologne he was wearing. "So," he said in a smooth voice, "What's your name?"

"Daphne," she said heatedly.

"Daphne," he repeated smilingly, "Daphne is her name." After a long pause, he said, "My name's Quentin."

"Really?" Daphne said, trying to conceal her excitement. Smiling seductively, she moved even closer to him until her face touched his chest. "Desmond told me so much about you."

"All good, I hope," he joked as they danced seemingly in slow motion.

Daphne realized as the song was ending that this might be her last chance to talk with Quentin Collins alone. Smiling sweetly, she said, "Can you join – I mean, do you want to join our table?"

"Can't," Quentin said nonchalantly, but as Daphne looked up at him, she saw regret in his eye.

"Oh," she said, a bit put out. The song ended and the two separated.

Bowing, Quentin said, "Thank you for the pleasure of this dance, dear Daphne."

"Oh, you're welcome, Quentin," Daphne smiled. She suddenly turned serious and asked, "Will I ever see you again?"

"Oh, if you're around Desmond, you will," Quentin said in a laughing tone, "Anyone can tell you we're the best of friends."

"Yes, so I've heard," Daphne said, hanging her head, "Well, it was nice to meet you anyway."

"Yes," Quentin affirmed as he walked away, "Invite me to the wedding!"

Daphne laughed, trying to conceal the fact that she really didn't want him to walk away from her now. She wanted to cry out, to tell him to stop, but she stood in the middle of the dance floor, helpless, as Quentin exited the club altogether. Unable to stand there anymore, Daphne returned to her table with Desmond.

"So, now you've met Quentin," Desmond said as Daphne sat down at the table, "What did you think of him?"

"He's very nice," Daphne said in a somber tone.

Desmond laughed rollickingly and said, "You spent that much time with him, and that's all you can say?" Desmond calmed his laughter and added, "After you spend more time with him, you'll like him more."

"Oh, I didn't mean it in that way – I like him now," Daphne insisted, "It's just – I don't know what else to say."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Desmond said reassuringly, "Quentin isn't exactly the friendliest person in the world. You'll get used to him." His hand covered hers, and Daphne feared the worst; however, all he said was, "Come on; I'll take you home."

Desmond was sitting in the living room of his mother's house when Quentin entered. He grinned and said, "How's the book?"

Desmond looked up from Jane Eyre and said, "No matter how many times I read it, I still think Rochester got a bad deal."

"Yeah," Quentin said, wandering around the room, "I can assume that your date with Daphne didn't go as planned, then?"

"No, it went fine," Desmond said with a stiff smile, "I drove her home and perhaps nothing happened, but she did say I could see her again if I wanted." Desmond stood and placed the book on the table saying, "Why'd you come over, anyway? Trouble with Samantha?"

"As a matter of fact . . ." Quentin began, but stopped himself and instead said, "No, you don't want to hear about it."

"Sure I do, man," Desmond said sincerely, "Anything that concerns you concerns me. Tell me."

"It's nothing, really," Quentin said, "I asked Samantha for a divorce for the umpteenth time, and she turned me down – again."

"Sorry," Desmond said, placing a comforting hand on Quentin's shoulder, "I never should've been your best man."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault," Quentin laughed, "Besides, it was my mistake and I made it. Boy, did I make it."

"I don't understand what kind of power she has over you," Desmond said, "Why not divorce her without her permission?"

"I want my son," Quentin said, enunciating each word as if it were law.

"I see," Desmond said, finally understanding, "If she doesn't get her way, she'll make it messy. You picked a good one, Quentin."

"Don't remind me," Quentin joked," Anyway, I just came over to drown my sorrows. Aunt Flora has brandy, right?"

"Yeah," Desmond said," Come on, you'll get the Desmond Collins Special. It'll make you forget anything you want – and maybe even more."

"I believe that," Quentin said as they both retired to the bar on the other side of the house.

Quentin entered the club again that night. He always felt that this club held something for him, and someday he'd know what. He looked around the crowd – all couples. For some reason, the Blue Whale never attracted any single women. He could go into a singles bar, but he figured his wedding ring would prevent him from being accepted.

He ambled up to the bar and saw a slender barmaid serving drinks. Her dark brown hair was tied back into a long ponytail, and even from far away Quentin felt there was something familiar about her face. As she walked toward him, one name ran quickly through his mind: Daphne. She smiled at him and asked, "What'll it be, Quentin?"

Quentin shook his head disbelievingly and said, "Since when have you worked here?"

"Since today," she replied, "Now, what do you want?"

"Beer," he said as she handed him an ice-cold one. "What made you decide to work here?"

"Last night, I saw that they needed help, so this morning I applied," Daphne explained, "Now if you'll excuse me, Quentin-."

"No, wait!" Quentin said, grabbing her arm, "I need the company."

"Well, I need to keep this job," Daphne said.

"Do you mind if I stay?" Quentin asked.

"No," Daphne said as she moved on to another customer.

Quentin smiled and nursed his beer, just happy to sit next to this new flower he has found.