"Hey, Red. Gosh…it's been so long. I-well…could you give me a call back? I have something that…well…that I need to talk to you about. Umm…okay. Oh! By the way…Happy Birthday, Red."

Beep.

Gosh, she hated that nickname! He knew it too. Scarlett O'Hara rolled her eyes as she lowered the phone from her ear and placed it back in her purse, while barking at the cab driver that he needed to drive faster!

Ashley Wilkes had been her best friend since grade school. He had a lisp in those days and couldn't say Scarlett correctly. Her erratic yet charming father had been the one who had so lovingly adorned her with the worst nickname imaginable. Just call her Red, boy, he had said on Ashley's first visit to her house. Of course, for a six-year-old boy Red was way cooler than "ssscar-lef", so it had stuck.

And to this day, even after begging and pleading with him, Ashley still called her Red. It suits you in too many ways for me to change it now, Red, he had said. The name chooses you. You can't choose the name.

Jerk, she thought lovingly. Yes, lovingly. And before you go there, no. She did not break the most important rule of friendship with a person of the opposite sex. She didn't fall in love with Ashley…she had loved him all along. So there. That wasn't breaking the rules, per say. It was just…bending them a little?

Okay…so it pretty much was breaking the rules, like, a lot. But screw the freaking rules! Who writes them, anyway?

Yes, she had loved Ashley Wilkes since she could remember, and she knew that she always would. In fact, he was the reason that she had never had a serious relationship. Sure, she had had a fling or two. Definitely nothing special. She just couldn't get past the fact that she felt that she and Ashley belonged together. He was everything wonderful and perfect, and she wanted him…forever.

They had never dated, in the real sense of the word. Yes, he had been her date for both of her proms. He had been her first kiss. They never did…the deed, but he had been the first person she had ever talked to about "it". They had done everything together, and they had been everything for each other. But he had never made it "official". Then again, for Scarlett, it didn't need to be official for it to be official. It just was…

And in spite of the fact that he had never pledged himself to her, she had pledged herself to him in her own heart. The closest she had ever gotten him to "committing" in any way had been in high school, when they had both made a vow…of sorts.

"Ashley, I am never going to get married." Scarlett pouted, walking down the sidewalk, her hand wrapped in his.

"Ha! Scarlett, you have got to be the most charming, out-going, lovable person I know…a little stubborn at times, but…" She cut him off by playfully shoving him in the ribs. They both laughed.

"What about beautiful?" she asked demurely, blinking up at him.

"Very." He smiled. "You will without a doubt get married." They continued to walk, a comfortable silence enveloping them.

"But what if I don't get married?" Scarlett asked.

Ashley sighed in exasperation. "Scarlett, if you aren't married by the time you turn twenty-five, I will marry you myself."

"Promise?" she said, hoping that the eagerness in her voice wasn't as evident to him as it was to her.

He laughed again. "Of course, but you won't have to worry about that," he said. "Somebody will snatch you up before I get the chance."

"Unless I don't let them," she smiled.

It had been a trivial and half-baked promise amidst a casual conversation. But she and Ashley had often referred to the vow. That particular conversation had come up between them on more than one occasion since then. In fact, just a year ago he had mentioned it at his sister's wedding. Scarlett had made a joke that even his Satan-possessed sister had gotten married before her. He laughed and whisked her out onto the dance floor. "You better get busy. You only have one more year before you are stuck with me," he had said.

She had looked him deep in the eyes and said, "Maybe that wouldn't be so bad." It was probably the closest she had ever come to telling him she wanted to be with him. He had merely lowered his head and laughed stating that he was impossible to live with. "I would never pick up after myself and you would always be mad at me all the time for trying to nickname our kid 'Little Red'. If it were a girl, I would go out and buy her a little red riding hood and a pet wolf!"

She had laughed and the night had continued pleasantly, as it always did.

She pulled a mirror out of her pocketbook as they approached her destination, checking her lipstick.

Perhaps, he didn't remember. Maybe she was making a big to-do over nothing…

But she knew Ashley, and he wasn't just calling her to tell her "Happy Birthday". He had said they needed to talk…and she knew Ashley very well. This was serious. Her heart was still thumping at an abnormally fast rate. He remembered, she thought. That could be the only explanation for his call. He had something he needed to talk about? He remembered her birthday? Her 25th birthday?

Yeah…he remembered.

The cab driver pulled up next to the curb, letting her out at the entrance of a nice restaurant. She flung a wad of cash at him and jumped out of the cab, trying desperately to adjust her skirt and blouse while running at the same time. She couldn't be late…

He wouldn't let her hear the end of it if she were.

She stopped just outside of the door, trying to catch her breath and gather herself. She was feeling very giddy, almost as if she had been drinking or something.

Just don't think about it right now, Scarlett, she said to herself happily. I will have forever to think about it…right now I need to focus on this story. I will think about this tomorrow.

She paused. Okay, I'll probably think about it tonight. But…that's irrelevant.

She cut off her own rambling thoughts. She had to gather herself before she went in! He would surely notice if something was out of sorts with her. He always noticed those sorts of things about her. Sometimes it was scary how well he could read her…

She allowed the maitre d' to take her coat, ordering him to fold it, not hang it. When they hung the coats, they always hung them right beside the cold, drafty doors. When she would put it back on, the coat had been so exposed to the chill that she might as well not wear it at all. When they folded it, they put it in the closet. She was always lecturing them on how they needed to build a closet to hang coats in. People don't want to come to a restaurant that returns their patrons' coats either cold or wrinkled! She had tried to write an article about it once. When she had went to him in need of research on the subject, he had laughed in her face and said that there was nothing to research because she would be setting a precedent, writing an article about something as trivial as that. Apparently, she was the only person in the world who demanded decent service in places where she spent good money to be treated well.

She ranted a little more to the maitre d' as he took her coat about…something. Anything. The maitre d', who was used to these sorts of things from Ms. O'Hara, merely nodded and replied, "Of course, right this way".

She prepared herself on another level as she followed the maitre d' to the table. Somehow anytime they had meetings like these, she would always get mad. That was because he had a way of getting under her skin. She would just have to make sure that he didn't today.

She saw him across the room. He smiled that trademark smirk and stood up bowing as she approached. She rolled her eyes at his idiocy. He pulled out her chair for her before the maitre d' could, gesturing for her to sit.

"Thank you, Johann. I think I should take it from here. She probably hasn't sheathed her claws yet this morning...don't want you to catch the brunt of that." He whispered to the unsure maitre d', "I've heard it's painful," he leaned towards her now, "But oddly enjoyable." He finished, speaking quietly enough that she knew it was meant only for her ears.

"Thank you, Mr. Butler." The maitre d' gratefully walked away, eager to escape the next tirade from Ms. O'Hara.

Before she could speak, Rhett Butler, who was as far as Scarlett was concerned the most insidious man on earth, continued, "Well, if it isn't the lovely little flower that is surely going to try to steal my job away from me someday." She rolled her eyes as he took his seat across from her and then she smiled sweetly at him. Too sweetly.

"We can only hope. Perhaps something decent would be published…" She unfolded her napkin nonchalantly and placed it in her lap.

"Ah! So that is your design! Well, I suppose that I should just go ahead and step down now and find a new job. You will undoubtedly succeed if that is your goal." She looked at him with annoyance, before glancing down. He was so impossible. She never knew where he was coming from or where he was going. She felt like she was always on the edge of her seat with him, and she didn't like it.

It wasn't that Rhett was an unattractive man. In fact, he was far from it. He was around thirty years old, if her memory served her well. He had jet-black hair and warm chestnut skin. He was tall and well built and his face was chiseled and…well, he was just a downright fine-looking specimen. His eyes were dark and forbidden. Sultry… And he had very, very pretty lips. They were full and round without looking feminine. In fact, there had been several times that he had merely smiled at her and she was sure that she should have brought a change of undergarments, if you are catching the drift.

She would never admit that to anyone in a million years though.

Rhett Butler was the head of Research and Development for the newspaper. She supposed that was because he had freakish connections. Sometimes it seemed like he could get anything done by simply snapping his fingers. He was a "big shot" at the paper, and he had an ego to match…but she had to admit, begrudgingly, that he had every reason to have such a massive arrogance about him. He was a ladies' man, if there ever had been one, with a very fat billfold and a job with a lot of people under him…no pun intended. Though she was sure that was true too…he was said amongst the "lucky" ladies who had experienced the thrill of being under him—totally intended pun—to be a libertine of his century…

This knowledge, along with his natural sex appeal and masculine features, had all of the women in the office in a constant tizzy over him. Scarlett would listen with aggravation as the women in their departments talked about all of their naughty fantasies concerning him. She would listen with a small spark of jealousy as a few of the "luckies" talked about the real thing (their true life stories only enhanced his image as a sex god), but she never offered her own opinions. Even when outright asked what they were. She knew that he knew what the women around the office said about him, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that every woman at the newspaper had swooned over him at some point in time.

No, her objection of Rhett Butler had nothing to do with his appearance. It didn't even have to do with his personality. Sometimes he could be so helpful and understanding. In fact, one time she had stayed late to work and had gotten locked into the office. He came all the way down to the office at three o'clock in the morning to let her out, after everyone else with a key had said they wouldn't and even though he lived outside of the city. In fact, when she thought of it, she imagined that he was her greatest friend in town. For it was so simple when talking to him, and he had always listened with ease as she discussed things that other people would believe to be shocking. He indulged her to express her opinions openly, in spite of their less than popular distinctions.

But his cocky air…literally…made him unbearable at times. And she felt that it was her job to bring him down a peg or two. Though she never succeeded…

"Research isn't my thing, Rhett." She started straightening her place settings, intent on everything being perfectly aligned. "Besides, I have always been under the impression that researchers are like the-" she waved her hand above her head, "weasels of newspaper? Even when they are 'Head of Department'." She rolled her eyes. "I don't think I could pull it off…not like you." She grinned slightly and continued arranging her setting.

"Ah! I see! We are talking of metaphoric depictions of newspaper employees!" He said as he started to parodically mimic her by exaggeratedly shifting his silverware. "I suppose you are right. You wouldn't be as convincing as a weasely researcher…even if you were the head of the department.I suppose that being a writer is your thing…Bitch looks much better on you." He said, nodding his head in satisfaction as he continued to mimic her movements. Her head shot up and she could see the beginnings of a small grin stretching across his down-turned, malevolent face.

Her breathing sped up of its own accord and she struggled to even it out. Just let it go. Talk about what you need to and get out of here before he says something really stupid.

He looked up, an unrepentant look of innocence on his face. Touche, Rhett-freaking-Butler…this time. She was calm enough now that she thought that they could begin discussing the assignment... But he had to open his incessantmouth.

"So, what are you so excited about?"

Shock briefly crossed her features before she smoothed them out and simply shook her head. She picked up the menu and began to casually browse through it, hoping he would let it go. She could feel him looking at her. From beneath the veil of her thickly-coated eyelashes, she could vaguely see his expression. It was practically dripping with his omniscience.

"What?" She said as she glanced at him, continuing to try and focus on her menu.

"You know what…"

"No," she said, "I don't."

"Oh come now, Scarlett." He said suavely. "We are old friends here. Your aura is sodden with barely contained enthusiasm." He lifted an eyebrow. "Come on, what is it? Did you manage to aid a serial killer in escaping from prison? Launder millions of dollars from a charitable institution? Burn down an orphanage? You're going to have to help me out here. Your list of fulfilling hobbies is endless…"

She clenched her fists. "I am not excited about anything, Rhett. However, I will be very happy when this meeting is over. May we begin?" Her teeth were clenched together so hard, she was afraid that they might crack.

He ignored her request. "Bought out the water supply of a third world country? Drowned a few puppies? Opened up a large megastore next to some small, family-owned convenient store?"

"Stop it!" she yelled, banging her fist on the table. The room went eerily silent and all eyes were on her. She tried to ignore them by smoothing out the tablecloth and straightening the utensils again. Rhett laughed. "Shut up…this is your fault…" she whispered, still conscious of the wary eyes of the other patrons around them.

He laughed harder. "My fault? If you had answered my question, then none of this would have happened."

"It's not-" she rolled her eyes, "Argh! I just heard from a really old friend today, okay? That's it. End of story."

"Ahh…I see. Who is this really old friend?"

He wasn't going to let this go. "Ashley. Ashley Wilkes."

"And how long has she been your friend?"

Scarlett stared at him blankly. "Ashley is not a girl."

"Oh…" Oh my God, she thought. His amusement was acute at first but gradually escalated until he was in fits of laughter. "Dear God, what-what that boy must have went through in school?" His statement only added to his amusement.

She could feel her face blanche and then heat up with anger. How dare he! "Ashley was never picked on in school!" She exclaimed. Well, it wasn't a total lie. He wasn't picked on because of his name. "He was actually very popular. And for your information that name has been passed down through the Wilkes line for centuries! His family is the most prominent in Georgia! Can you say that about your family?"

He spoke through his lingering laughter. "Oh, I am afraid I cannot say that about my family." He wiped his eyes with his fingers. "So…why did Ashley call?"

She shook her head. "I-I don't know yet."

"So, you haven't actually spoken to him yet?" His eyes were growing more alert, as if he were catching on to something that was barely recognizable. She was afraid that he was…

"No…he left a message and asked me to call him back." Please…please let this go, Rhett.

"So it's what he has to talk to you about that has you so on edge." He looked at her with that knowing look again. "Or perhaps…it is merely the thought of talking to him that has you so excited."

Her faced reddened. "That is ridiculous. I have known Ashley for years and-"

"And yet you have never told him how you feel." He was looking at her in awe. "I never thought I would see the day that Scarlett O'Hara, the Scarlett O-Hara, would be in love. And with an old country boy…" He clicked his tongue against his teeth.

"He is not some "old country boy", he is-"

I want your lovin' and I want your revenge.

You and me could write a bad romance, Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh…

"Your purse is singing Lady Gaga, Scarlett," he smirked.

She quickly picked it up and grabbed her phone from the side pocket before answering it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Red…"

"Ashley!" She was sure her smile was a mile wide. She looked at Rhett. He was now sitting back in the chair with his arms crossed and a knowing smirk painted on his face. "Ashley, can you hold on one moment?" She placed the phone in the palm of her hand. "Rhett…can we do this later?" Her eyes pleaded with him to heed her request.

He lazily leaned forward and picked up his glass of…whatever, and raised it to her. "Why not…" and then took a swig. She smiled at him mouthing 'thank you' before racing out of the restaurant. She almost forgot to stop and pick up her coat.

"Ashley? I'm sorry. I was in a meeting and-"

"Aw damn Scarlett! You should have told me. I would have called you back!"

"No, no! It's fine. It wasn't an important meeting…" she paused. "So, what's up?" She ran to the side of the road and began waving her hand for a cab.

Ashley was silent for a moment. "Scarlett…I don't really know…" he paused again. "I don't know how to tell you what I am about to tell you…"

She lowered her hand a little and her heart went into convulsions. "Just say it, Ashley."

He laughed awkwardly. "Okay…umm…I am getting married, Scarlett." Her heart sped up. A taxi had stopped but she was oblivious.

"To whom?" She said quietly. This is it, she thought. He was leading up to it and now he was going to finally ask her. He was going to say I am getting married…to you. And then he was going to ask her. And she was going to say yes.

She was getting married.

"Umm…Melanie Hamilton. Do you remember her, Scarlett? She is the girl that went with us to the prom with her brother? The one from the orphanage? Well she is just…Scarlett, she is wonderful. And she is dying to meet you. She-she wants you to be the maid of honor…"

She didn't hear anything that he had said. She just knew that she had to get home. "Yo lady? You ridin' or what?" The cab driver yelled.

"Ashley can I call you back?" She said quietly.

"Umm..sure." He paused. "Hey Red, I love you. I miss you like crazy! I really do…"

"Yeah…I'll call you back." She hung up before she heard his reply.

"Yo laaa-dddy!" The taxi driver called her again.

"I am coming!" she screamed. He shrank back in his seat, muttering things to himself. She was sure they were unpleasant things about her but she didn't care. He was obviously put off, but he was unwilling to anger her further.

"Take me to 32nd and 5th," she said. She sank into the seat and digested what Ashley had just told her. He was getting married. To someone else.

She looked out the window as a tear ran down her face. The city had never looked so dark.