OUT OF THE ASHES

Chapter 25

Confessions

Gold felt that someone had taken an axe and cleaved directly into his head.

His head was splitting. He was sure if he moved part of his skull would just fall off, it would just fall off exposing brains and bones and sinuses and all the inner workings of his head.

Oh yeah, Skull Splitter. That was what he had been drinking last night. A couple of those. Then there had been some Yuenglings. He'd lost count of those.

He hadn't gotten this drunk since he had tried to. . . well, it had been awhile. Somewhere down deep inside he knew what he needed to do. He needed to rehydrate. He needed to take something for the pain. He needed to get quick contracts out on the little man who was operating the jackhammer and the one that was conducting The Off-Key Out-of-Step Bell Choir.

And blessed, blessed, blessed be, his Belle was there with a something soothing and hydrating and just the right balance of sweetness and tartness so that he would be able to keep it down.

"How ya doin'?" she asked him softly.

"I'd have to rally to die," he managed to gasp out.

"Well, this should make you feel a lot better in no time. But you've got to keep drinking it." Belle handed him a second glass of magical elixir and a couple of naproxen.

It was more than thirty minutes later and three total glasses of the restorative that Belle had graciously and non-judgmentally prepared for him before he was able to sit up. Belle had gotten up, fed the cat, watered the plants and taken care of a number of little household chores, coming in to check on him, but not badgering him which he so very much appreciated.

"How ya doin' now?" she asked again.

"I think I'm going to live, but I'm not going to like it," he told her.

She sat down across from him. "You were pretty drunk when you came in last night. All of that from beer?"

"Jefferson had an evil brew called Skull Splitter. It was really delicious and I had two and god knows how much of what else. My hair hurts."

"Oh poor baby," Belle said kindly.

Gold tried to swallow, but he felt like his mouth was filled with cotton. He was sipping the fourth glass of Belle's magic potion. His vision had come back. The man with the hammer had quit chipping away on the inside of his skull. The man ringing the bells had let up on the campanology and now there was just one large single bell that was still left ringing.

"Was I too objectionable last night? I seem to remember asking you to take your top off." Oh lord, had he been a creep?

"You did," Belle confirmed. She sat quietly.

Gold had another memory come through. "I told you I loved you, didn't I?"

Quietly Belle answered him, "You did."

"Belle, I. . . understand. . . oh please understand," the man looked like he was in pain. "I once thought I was in love and after three months I proposed marriage. With the exception of giving me Bae, it was the single worst decision of my life. And now I am feeling what I think is love. . . for you. It is different from what I felt with Milah, but I'm afraid. I'm so afraid. What if this isn't what I think it is? What if this is another horrible mistake." Could she? Would she understand?

Belle put her finger up to his mouth, gently shushing him. "Listen to me, Mr. Bobby Spinner. If what we have is love, we'll know. We're not in any hurry here. We'll take this one day at a time. We will enjoy what we have right now and if there's nothing more, we'll still be able to look back on this time as a wonderful memory. If there is more, we'll welcome it. . .together."

Gold nodded. "You are too good for me," he told her.

"I am, but what am I to do? I think I'm in love with you too."

"Even though I'm a coward and a monster and a cripple and . . ."

Belle tilted her head and smiled at him, stopping his litany.

He dropped his head, guiltily. "I remember that I complained about your undergarments didn't I?"

"You did, said they were ugly," Belle looked like she was smothering a giggle.

"Please, let me spend some money on you, please. I think you're so glorious that I want the packaging to match. Silk and lace and some of that really sheer stuff, maybe with little ruffles and bows."

"You mentioned wanting me in a corset . . . with stockings."

Gold groaned. "Yeah, and I think I said what I wanted to do with you while you were wearing those. Probably shouldn't have shared that. You realize that was the alcohol talking."

"Uh hum," Belle was still humoring him.

The man hesitated, "If. . .if I bought you some nicer. . . uh. . .lacey. . . things. . . would you wear them. . .for me?" he finally asked. What a wuss he was being. He had bartered million dollar deals and hadn't worried about offending anybody's sensibilities. What was it about this hundred pound female that made him tread so lightly? Oh yeah, he was falling in love with her. And she with him. And he cared about her and what she thought about him.

"I think I could do that. Maybe we can go out later to a Victoria's Secret or a Soma and see what we can find."

"Today?" She'd just offered him a powerful incentive for quick recovery.

She nodded, "Today."

"I should be good to go shortly," he promised her.

"I think you've forgotten something."

Oh lord what else had he said . . . or done. . . while drunk? Did he owe her an apology? Had he proposed? Had he been crude and vulgar? Had he thrown up? What? What?

Seeing his panicked look, Belle relented. "The big craft fair begins today. I always go to see what crafts are being featured so I can do book displays for the fallout from the fair. People will see things they want to do and they come to my store to buy a book on it."

Craft fair. Oh shit, yeah, the craft fair.

"Sure, we can go to the craft fair."

Belle stood a moment quietly. "Now if you don't feel up to coming with me, there's no problem. It will only take the morning."

He considered. He always looked forward to Thursdays and spending time with Belle. Alone. He had had fun. He got kisses and sometimes sex and always fun. "I'm in." He pulled himself up, teetered and sat back down. "I may need help dressing."

Belle handed him some fresh underwear, clean jeans and a clean t-shirt. He looked around and located his sandals.

"Breakfast?" he asked her.

"You feel like eating?" she asked him, surprised.

"No, but I'll feel better if I do eat," he told her honestly.

"The Green Sage is close in and I don't think you've eaten there before," she told him and waited patiently for him to pull himself together. They walked down Broadway to the small restaurant. Gold got the Alaska Omelet with wild salmon with coffee to drink. Belle got their apple, sunflower oatmeal along with an egg biscuit and carrot-ginger juice to drink.

Gold was beginning to feel like a regular person again.

"How did it go with Milah?" he was finally able to ask.

"She shared how you two met."

"What version did she give you?"

"That she was under-aged, working in a bar and you came by to. . . well it sounded like you were collecting protection money and you picked her up. She said you two got married within three months and then when you had a friend killed, you decided to quit the gang and things began to fall apart, even after money started coming in," Belle summarized the story.

"Pretty accurate."

"It was interesting. She went to some lengths not to blame you but I still came away with the sense that you were this older, rich, experienced man who had callously picked up, seduced and taken advantage of an inexperienced, young girl."

"Kinda like our relationship?" he asked with just a touch of bitterness.

"I was hardly inexperienced," she protested.

He looked at her directly in the eyes and whispered, so that only she could hear, "Actually you were." Belle blushed and dropped her eyes. He continued, "But Milah, now, she was hardly inexperienced," he muttered. "But she was always good at making others think she was vulnerable and innocent. Anything else happen?"

"Well, then she gave us all make-overs and dropped a couple of hundred dollars worth of makeup samples that she just happened to be carrying with her," Belle continued.

"So what did you think of her?" Gold braced himself.

"I think she is a very clever woman. She was working very hard to be pleasant and nice. And I think she wants something." Gold glanced up at her, his eyes meeting hers. "Just because I'm nice, doesn't mean I'm stupid. People make that mistake sometimes."

"Including me," he confessed. "I guess I should have realized that you wouldn't be taken in so easily."

"Maybe, you should have," Belle agreed with him.

"Let me make it up to you. Let me buy you something at the craft fair."

Belle took a sharp intake of air. "Oh, I don't know."

"Why don't we make a deal?" his eyes glinted. "I won't spend more than five hundred dollars and I promise to never get that drunk again."

"How about no more than fifty dollars and you quit feeding Susie an extra breakfast," Belle shot back.

"Ouch." So she knew about his efforts to get the white cat on his good side. "How about four hundred and I agree to not getting that drunk and I'll quit feeding Susie the extra breakfast?"

"One hundred and you won't take vengeance on Emma about the. . . you know."

He grimaced, "Too late. How about three hundred and I won't get that drunk, I'll quit the extra food and I'll take whatever Emma dishes out in retribution?"

"How about all that . . . and. . . you agree to me inviting Milah and her entourage over for Sunday breakfast?"

Gold sat back. "Can I invite Bae too?"

"He's in," Belle quickly agreed.

"First tell me why, why would you want Milah to come to breakfast?"

"Keep your friends close. . . " Belle began.

Gold smiled at her, "And your enemies closer." He sat back. "Three hundred fifty and you have a deal."

Belle thought a moment and held out her hand. They shook on it.

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Gold had never been to a craft fair quite like the Southern Highland Guild's. For one thing the entries were juried, a term he learned meant they had been judged by their peers as worthy of representing the craft. These were works by true artists, not casual craftspeople. Mary Margaret was there with handspun yarn and a variety of knitted and crocheted hats. There were other textiles, also pottery, jewelry, artwork, woodcrafts, metal crafts, and, something new for him, broom makers. Belle chatted with the textile artists, apparently knowing many of them. She lingered over some of the artwork, being drawn to watercolors and random drawings of cats. She hesitated when she got to some of the woodcrafters, especially one that did intricately carved boxes. Belle dallied at the one of the broom makers booths. He wondered if she was looking for one that she could bewitch and have it carry Milah away.

What stopped her in her tracks though was a silversmith. One of the necklaces was similar to one she had, but much more ornate. She returned twice to the booth to look at the necklace. Longer than hers, with more chains and more charms. It was a beautiful piece. It was three hundred and forty dollars. She turned away for the third time.

He pulled her aside. "We had a deal."

She couldn't look at him. "I know but it's hard for me to have you spend that kind of money on me."

"I can well afford it. You know that Belle. And remember what I'm willing to agree to. I won't be getting shit-faced the next time you invite somebody totally objectionable to Girls' Night In. I will quit using food to buy the favors of that evil cat and have to risk her chewing my face off while I sleep. I will allow Emma to kick the crap out of me when she comes for me, and I'm pretty sure that she will. And this is the big one, I will spend Sunday morning with my devious, deceitful ex-wife and her low-life, unfit-for-human-company cohorts."

Belle nodded,"You know that's a lot of whining."

Gold kissed her forehead, turned back to the booth, and as was his common practice, he paid cash for the necklace which he promptly put around her neck.

"I've admired this necklace for more than three years, ever since this silversmith started coming to this fair." She looked up at him, her eyes bright. "Thank you."

He bent down and whispered in her ear, "Do I get special boyfriend sex for this?" he asked.

"That wasn't part of our bargain. But yeah, of course you do," she told him. "But right now, let's get some streusel from Helmut's. I always get a box with half-apple and half-cherry."

He paid for the streusel and they left together, heading back to the shop.

"I'm going to want to put together a display for hand-dying and one for making your own jewelry. I'll pull the pottery books up also and it probably wouldn't hurt to have the yarn crafts pulled out too." She chatted away, unconsciously resting one hand in his and the other holding onto her necklace.

Once back to the shop she, Ruby and Ashley worked quickly to put together the displays. Gold watched them, impressed.

"Think you can handle it?" Belle asked the other two.

"Yeah, the first day is always slow. It's not until Saturday that things get really busy," Ruby told her. "You know that. Now go ahead. Take the rest of your day and have a good time." Ruby glanced over at Gold and gave him a subtle wink.

Belle ran her hands down her neck, "All right. You know to call me if things get too busy."

"Of course, but we'll be fine," Ruby promised.

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Belle took Gold out to the Asheville Mall on South Tunnel Road. She had them stop at the food court for some falafel from Baba Ghannouj and then on into the bowels of the Mall to Victoria's Secret.

She stopped before they got to the store. "Now we didn't talk about this, but you've already spent more than three hundred on me today. . . "

"And traded off quite a bit of my dignity for the privilege," he reminded her.

She glared at him and continued. "We need to have some parameters for this store. Some guidelines. Some limits."

He couldn't stop himself from smiling at her. He leaned into her, pulling her against him and whispering into her ear. "How about you give me free rein? I spend as much as I want and I promise to make sweet love to you for each and every garment I buy for you and you will graciously accept the proof and truth of my devotion and affection by saying yes. . . yes. . . yes."

Belle shivered, the sensual promise blatant in his comments. Yes. She had not thought this was going to be difficult, yes, but the man seemed to be yes enjoying himself too much.

Gold pushed his advantage, "Please let me do this for you. I want to do this for you."

"You're making it sound yes like I'm doing you a favor."

He chuckled and she could feel his warm breathe against her neck. "You are. Please, do this for me?"

Milah had been right. The man was 'very seductive' and 'exciting.' She had gotten that sooo right. Right now, at this moment, he was pushing her with every bit of charm, every bit of warm, comforting, masculine allure he could muster. She tried to clear her head but had no success. "Yes, all right," she yielded.

Once in the store, Belle watched in amazement. She'd had always gotten good service in the place, but the saleswomen seemed to be falling over themselves with Gold, even though he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, without the visible trappings of Big Money. It was as if they could smell his money.

How did they know? Not like he'd flashed the Black Card or anything. Of course, he was ordering people around like he expected to be catered to. He'd requested a place to sit and they found a place for him to sit. He'd asked if they could get him some bottled water and they offered him refreshment. The manager began to chat with him about his preferences.

Belle found herself bundled off into a backroom and then and there she was thoroughly taped and measured. They brought her white things and red things and black things and the occasional pink things. They found some blue things that matched her eyes. There were bras, panties, corsets, bustiers, camisoles, slips, garter belts, teddies and stockings. She knew there were at least three saleswomen working between her and Gold. She knew they were bringing her things to try on. She suspected they were bringing selections to him first for his approval and then carrying the ones that fit back out to him. She didn't see him again for more than an hour. She had never dressed and undressed so completely and so often in such a short span of time.

One of the saleswomen finally came back into to see her and the woman was smiling. "Don't tell me, I've tried on everything in the store?" Belle asked her.

The woman gave her a gracious laugh. "Just about, Miss French. Mr. Spinner has made some purchases and has set you up with an account."

"Oh really?" And exactly what did that mean?

As if she had heard Belle's thought, the woman explained, "We have your sizes and as things that meet your preferences come in, we shall send you the items on trial."

"My preferences?" Belle couldn't help but ask. More like Mr. Spinner's preferences.

She was half expecting Gold to be surrounded with pink striped bags and boxes but he had only a single bag in hand.

As they left the store, Belle had to ask, "Is that all you bought?" Not that she was comfortable with him spending the money on her, but that had been a long, hard afternoon for just one little bag.

"The rest will be delivered. These were just my favorites," he gave her a smirk.

"Oh." She found herself blushing again. She tried another tack. "You don't mind carrying a bag of women's underwear?"

He shook his head, smiling. "What, I'm out with a beautiful woman and I am carrying some delicate, lacy undergarments that she has promised me that she will wear. . . for me. I have no problems with other people seeing me. Now, my dear, anywhere else you want to go while we're here?"

Belle considered. It might be fun to drag him all over the mall to one store after another just to see how long he would last. She considered. No, she couldn't do that to the man. He was just wanting to do something for her.

"No, I'm finished. There's nowhere else here I want to go."

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He took her back to the apartment and handed her the bag.

"Put on the white items," he directed her. "Then put what you have on over it and come out. I have reservations at Curate." Gold named the elite tapas and wine bar at the other end of their block.

"Curate?" Belle was impressed. This was one of the most extraordinary restaurants in Asheville. Anthony Bourdain had eaten there when his television show came through Asheville. Belle dutifully went into the bedroom. There were some gold items, some blue items and the white items. These white items consisted of a white satin bustier with matching thong. She struggled just a bit to get herself into the bustier. It barely covered her breasts, lifting them together and pushing them up high. When she pulled her little tank top on, she turned to look at herself and, darn it, found herself blushing again. She had cleavage. . . ample cleavage. She hurriedly dug in the chest of drawers for one of her shawls. She wasn't sure she could go out like this. She felt. . . on display.

When she came out, she was keeping her head down. Gold couldn't help but notice the shawl. He stopped her and gently pulled the shawl away.

He stood a moment in worshipful silence before whispering, "Perfect. You are perfect."

"I'm about to fall out," she protested.

"I don't think so. Bend over," he ordered. "Now raise your arms." She complied. "Move back and forth." She again complied. "Now stand up." She did. "Nope, you're still trussed up right as rain. He handed her back the shawl. "Now if you prefer to keep the shawl on, I have no problem with that. Just take it off for me, once we have sat down in the restaurant."

She nodded.

But she was nervous. Very nervous. Fortunately the restaurant was dark and when she obligingly removed the shawl she felt that there were few enough that could actually see her. And she was quite relieved when, in a bit, she had looked at Gold and she found that he was looking into her eyes.

They ordered a several plates of tapas and, after talking with the sommelier, Gold ordered a bottle of wine. Belle began drinking her first glass and nibbling.

"I wanted to ask you something," she started uncertainly.

"Please, anything," he answered.

Belle finished her first glass. "Milah said something," she was cautious, unsure of how to begin.

"I'm sure she did," Gold poured her a second glass of wine and began with their cheese plate.

"She said that sometimes it was like there was a darkness that would take root in you. What did she mean by that?"

Gold sampled the fried eggplant and sipped his wine.

"She must have been talking with her therapist. She was never so eloquent with a phrase," he replied to Belle.

Belle waited.

"I have a problem," he confessed. "I used to be angry, combative, sometimes withdrawn and often bitter and resentful."

"But you aren't like that now. What was wrong?"

Gold swallowed. "When I was younger, they thought it was bi-polar. I was given some medicine that made me feel badly and I quit taking it. Instead, I parlayed the anger and explosiveness, the unpredictability, into a career. Those characteristics served me well when I was running protection rackets, when I was dealing drugs. I got the reputation of being someone you wouldn't want to cross because I was someone you wouldn't want to cross."

"So what happened?" Belle asked while Gold refilled her glass.

"Well interestingly enough, even when I wasn't involved in shady dealings, when I was doing, you know, legal business, those same characteristics helped me get ahead. I was willing to take risks. I could intimidate people. I could push people around. Once I got the Harvard law degree, it became even easier for me to pressure people and get what I wanted. It still paid off." He took a sip of his wine and refilled Belle's glass.

"So?" Belle was listening closely, nibbling and drinking.

"At one point, I was doing very well. I was worth a couple of million, about fifteen, twenty years ago. There was some deal I had wanted to make but it didn't come through the way I wanted it to. It was like I was possessed. I had an explosive temper outburst. I trashed my office, breaking glass and furniture with my cane. Building security was called. They called the police. Because I was rich, I didn't end up in jail; I ended up in the hospital."

"Oh my god!"

"One of the best things that ever happened to me. Young Dr. Hopper came in. Told me that I was acting like a three year old and he didn't think I was bi-polar. I got a new diagnosis then. Major depressive disorder."

"Wow, not Dr. Hopper of the Hopper Institute?" Belle had seen the quiet spoken, but firm psychiatrist on a variety of talk shows. He was calm, clear and displayed incisive insights into people and situations. She nibbled and drank some more.

"One and the same, but there was no Institute then. I argued with him, of course. Depressed people sat around and cried a lot. I was offended he would think I was depressed. Bipolar somehow seemed more manly. Besides, I told him, I was rich. I had nothing to be depressed about."

"What did he say to that?" Belle was now on her fourth glass of fine red wine.

"He challenged me. Told me my marriage was disintegrating, I had a piss-poor relationship with my son, I had no outside interests, my health was slipping because there was no exercise and my diet was atrocious, I had no friends and my employees were terrified that I might change one of them into a snail and step on them."

"And you said?"

"What could I say? The man was right." Gold nibbled on another one of the tapas.

"So then what?"

"He said I needed to make up my mind if I wanted to get treatment. I asked him what options were available."

"And he said?"

"I could try medication, therapy or lifestyle changes or some combination."

Belle nodded. "And you chose?"

"When I calmed down I went for all three. That's when I began to work, really work on my relationship with Milah and what I was doing to her," Gold added, softly, "the abuse stuff. I also began to schedule some time with Bae and began to take him on some of my business trips. I tried to take Milah, but she didn't want to go. I think, even then, she was stepping out on me. I began to try to get in some exercise and hired a personal chef. I went on a series of antidepressants and reuptake inhibitors."

"How'd it go?"

"Well enough that after two years, I endowed Hopper with enough money to start his own clinic. I've been one of his supporters ever since."

"And then you had a little setback?"

"A long time later. A little setback. I found my wife in flagrante delicto with another man and I filed for a divorce, a divorce that took nearly two years to get through with all the antics and courtroom shows. After that I kinda had a mini-breakdown and rather than go into the hospital again, I came here."

"But you aren't having those problems now, are you?" Belle had finished her wine and he poured her a fifth glass.

"This, what you see here and now, represents a very recent change. I think I may have finally found the right lifestyle changes. On my own, I'm really exercising, I'm eating right, hell, I'm doing yoga. I may be taking up spinning with Mary Margaret. I seem to have friends. I'm in a relaxed relationship with a woman who accepts me and nurtures me and is wonderful for me."

Belle's eyes widened and she took a big drink from her glass, "Me?"

"Of course, you, you precious thing you. Do you think I have the strength to be keeping another female satisfied?" He looked at her. "You are satisfied, aren't you?"

She smiled, "Yes, I am." She shook her head. "I'm also a little tipsy. How much wine did I drink?" Belle realized she had been eating steadily and drinking steadily.

"No idea. Feeling dizzy?"

"Oh my yes. I don't do this type of thing often," Belle seemed concerned. "I must have drunk more than I realized. It was really good."

"Well let me know now if you want me to take advantage of you or not. I can play the gentleman or the scoundrel."

"Scoundrel, take advantage please," she gave him a little grin.

He paid their bill and helped her up, guiding her back up to their apartment building. He opted to take her up the elevator and she fell into him.

"You know," she began, running her hands up and down his body as they rode together up to the apartment. "I used to think that I would never meet a nice guy. That I wasn't worthy of having a nice guy in my life. Milah said that when she first saw you, she knew you had power and she decided that was what she wanted. I guess she and I have something in common. When I first met you, I thought you looked lost. I thought you had gorgeous brown eyes and wonderful hands and were really attractive. But I also knew you had power. And I'm pretty sure that attracted me."

"You thought I was an eight." He guided her back into the apartment.

She giggled. "I said you were an eight. I thought you were a fourteen."

He had to smile at that, "I thought the same thing about you," he told her, leading her back to the bedroom.

"So we were instantly attracted to each other, huh?" She was wrapping herself around him, kissing his neck, licking his neck. "You smell good, you taste good," she told him.

"Let me help you out here," he told her, gently removing her tank top and pulling down her skirt. He had wanted to see the little bustier on her. Damn. If she had been wearing something like this when they had first met, he wouldn't have been able to restrain himself. He started to kiss her when he felt her pushing him down onto the bed so he lay back with his feet still on the floor. She was busy unfastening his pants and he could feel her little hands reaching inside and latching onto him. She slipped off the bed and was kneeling on the floor between his legs. He knew what she was about to do and debated briefly if he would accept her attentions in this manner. Hell yeah. She seemed pretty intent and pretty eager. He lay back on the bed, enjoying the sensation of her fingers and her mouth and her tongue on himself. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the image of her in the lovely, lacey underwear he had just seen her in and put his hands down to twist his fingers in her hair, gently guiding her movements. It didn't take him long before he felt the pressure build and his release was upon him.

Belle climbed back up onto the bed to lie beside him, hugging him and murmuring. "That was nice. I didn't even have to tie you up."

He hugged her back, the little witch, then finished pulling off his pants and his t-shirt. He then shifted their weight so that they were lying properly on the bed. Belle ran her hands along her bustier. "Do you want me to take this off?"

"No dear, I want to do you when you are still wearing it. It will take me a little while, but as soon as I can, I will."

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He had pulled his jeans back on and was sitting outside on the rooftop with the black cat as company. So Belle became amorous under the effects of alcohol. Good to know. He had counted his half pack of cigarette. He'd started the day with ten. He had six left.

Twenty five days down, seventeen days to go.

He realized he wanted more than seventeen days.

He wondered if Belle did too.

Thx to you ever helpful reviewers: Leafena, Anonymous Nerd Girl, Just 2 Dream of You, Lattelady, RaFire, xanimejunkie, Stargate533, Rumbelle4ever, Ying-Fa-dono, Raspberry Not Pink, thedoctorsgirl42, Grace5231973, Girlyemma96 (who has apparently been out of town getting respite care or managing life or school or something and reviewed 4 chapters! Gee thx), Pommyth, DruidKitty, Samzi, MyraValhallah, smorgan1 (for two reviews of earlier chapters), Hermitess, Aletta-Feather, and RoxyMoron.

NEXT: Emma starts something but she can't finish it

because there's a small problem

with turkeys