Charlie and Harper Reference S#%t


"Come on, just let me finish explaining this."

Sweet Dee sighed. "It's a Vin Diesel movie. I know how it ends. "

Both Harper's and Charlie's shoulders dropped.

"If I wanted to hear something both boring and awful, I'd listen to that 'Bedrock' song from Young Money."

Harper had to nod in agreement at that.

Charlie leaned in close. "What?"

"I haven't heard a truer statement in ages." She replied.

"Did you just say 'ages'?" Dee snorted. "It's as if you're not a baby."

Harper sighed. "I'm out in Philadelphia for a job that could help change my life. When I came out here, the only person I knew was the friend I'm living with. That says something about me."

Charlie watched her as she spoke, then sent Dee what he figured was a pointed look.

"What do you do at work, anyway?" The blonde woman inquired.

Harper relaxed against the cushion of the booth. The action made a plastic crinkling sound.

"I'm an assistant to an executive who's working on the Li -"

Dee sat forward, forearms on the table. "That's enough. You can finish that sentence when a) You don't look seventeen, b) You're fighting those weird marks by your rib cage-are they just wrinkles that happen when you move, or are they stretch marks?-and c) When your job is actually f***ing interesting."

Harper's eyes narrowed for a second. "Yeah, 'cause you know what it's like to have an interesting job."

"I once went into business with my dad. You have no idea."

"You sound very sure of yourself."

"I am. I should be. I will continue to be."

The blonde, still bats**t, thirty-five or –six and mostly muscle, gave Harper an arrogant smirk, arms now folded on her chest. The sight prompted Charlie to lightly bump elbows with Harper. She met his eyes and nodded.

"I've been kept longer than I thought I would," Harper said. "It was a big surprise to be asked to stay. I helped arrange the catering for this celebration of an energy-saving company, but…I have no event-planning experience, so…with the few remaining arts-related tasks being handed to other people and…and my lack of a college degree-"

"See," Charlie told Dee. The look of significance had returned. "One of the things we have in common."

Harper turned on an angle, her gaze now entirely focused on Charlie. This, of course, made him a bit nervous, and he began to pick imaginary lint from his clothes and hair.

"That means something important to…" Harper gestured between the two of them, ignoring Dee's groan.

"This is boring!" Dee whined. "I can't believe Charlie doesn't charge you for the babysitting time. Maybe I'll call 'To Catch a Predator'. Or 'Hoarders'," She grinned when Harper sent her a glare that combined confusion with 'shut the hell up' (best kind of glare outside of a movie). "I've seen the inside of your car."

"From the outside…and that was one time," Harper retorted. She returned her focus to Charlie. "I've started job-hunting, applied to a few places, and a big decision's been made."

"I tried to keep you away from each other when I mentioned the Waitress." Dee spat in disbelief. "I saw you kiss him good-bye once and I threw up a little!"

"Shut up!" Harper cried at the same time that Charlie sat forward and said, "You told her, Dee? I wondered how H could know anything about my past with-"

"'You were saying, 'With the Waitress', Charlie, really? That's putting it very, very loosely."

"You opened your evil wench mouth and-"

Dee's eyebrows shot up. "Where did he learn the word 'wench'?"

Harper raised a hand in placation. "I think he left the History channel on last night while he slept. Hell if I know."

"You told," Charlie continued. "and that was supposed to just stay dead."

Dee sneered. "It'll never die, Charlie. You're always going to be at least curious about the Waitress. I mean, look at how you freaked out when you heard she was engaged."

His eyes were wide and excited, his lips an unhappy, slim line as he pressed them together.

"I have news." Harper told him. "You deserve to know."

"You said that earlier, but then I brought up the Vin Diesel flick, so…"

"Right, right, a distraction, yeah…but eventually, I had to remind you that New Jersey was never going to be my permanent home. Sure, after, like, three months, I changed the address on my license, but more had to give, okay?" Harper's fingers drummed briefly on the seat cushion. "I've known all along that this job would be temporary, and that's just one of the reasons why I've stuck to my decision to move home when my time workin' for the city runs out!"

Charlie blinked, sipped from his glass of water, raised an eyebrow at Dee, and met Harper's gaze again. "Okay. That means…finding a new job in Philly? Do you think you'll apply to work at Z Ladies? Because…then you'll know all the words to every Ludacris song and your hip hop knowledge will scare me even more."

Dee stared at Harper until the young woman turned her way. "You share a name with a kiln and furnace-maker."

"I've heard that Deandra is Greek for man."

"You ass***e, it means-"

"Ah, whatever; go away, I'm trying to talk to-"

Dee brightened a bit. "You're trying to break up with Charlie, yeah! I can tell. I'm going to go tell the guys, let them down gently…y' know, since…this relationship is worth grieving."

She stood to leave.

"Get out o' here, Dee," Charlie demanded. "Or you'll be tied up long enough to miss another concert from a male singer who…who…"

"Who's really into cougars." Harper looked up through her eyelashes. "Like yourself."

Dee stared down at her as if trying to set Harper's organs ablaze.

Harper smiled in reply.

"The same number of people who think you two go together probably equals the number who think most of Theory of a Deadman's songs don't sound the same." Dee told her, and with that, grabbed her bohemian satchel and marched out of the bar.

Charlie sighed. "Fine, let's talk about it: What's this about work and going home?"

"I consider home to be my parents' place in Colorado." Harper answered. "See, I moved straight from my mom and dad's to my friend's house in New Jersey for this job. If I can't find new employment by the time this is over, I'm going to -"

Charlie's hands flew up. "Okay, I'm full. Delicious conversation, really, but this is a lot to hear at once, okay? I mean, what am I goin' to do with the flame thrower in my-"

"I'm not leaving tomorrow! I'll be here next week, too! This thing is moving to an end, though, and I should be pulling away from this city before Chanukah." Harper seemed to start mentally drifting. "Maybe even before Thanksgiving."

"How about I get a tattoo on my arm of that scar on your leg?"

"Oh, so this discussion's just goin' to get weirder and weirder?"

Charlie gave Harper what he hoped was his childlike, cute smile. It didn't have its entire desired effect, but a moment later, she did kiss his stubble a few times.


So...where did that come from?

Now the author would like to dedicate this chapter to Vincent Van Gogh, and to Diana Agron because of the irrelevant, mildly insulting comments about the GQ photo shoot she took part in recently (recently as of the writing of this chapter). Last edited 07.31.12