peachy-pebbles- Hmm . . . I'm not going to say anything, because I know I will accidently tell you what is to come in my little twisted story . . . MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Starlight Enchantress- Death threats are so much fun with Willy Wonka! And it's always good to keep up with your stories! Lol.

bobdafrog- I couldn't have him as my dad . . . Because then I would be lusting over my own father! YAK! And what makes you think there will be a wedding, hmm? Lol.

Me and My Shadow- I can't feel my feet or arms after band camp . . . DAMMIT! And the ring is so pretty! I remember when I actually found a ring that looked like Bianca's. I wanted to buy it, but it was like a billion dollars! And are they going to get married? Lol.

A/n: So . . .I'm sorry for not updating yesterday like I said. I was still rebooting from last week. But better late than never!

Chapter 35: Some Day . . .

"Perfect! Absolutely perfect! You two have 'ad enough practice for today . . . Do you mind if ya'll could help paint some sets and props?"

"Of course not, Letta!" I answered sweetly. I've been here at The Red Rat all day rehearsing with Roland on our duet together. Tomorrow we'll perform in front of some talent agents who are looking for fresh talent. "But when are we going to add in the kiss at the end?" I ask as I pull my hair up into a messy bun.

"Tomorrow evenin'."

"You mean we're not going to practice it?" Roland asked skeptically.

"You're invited to practice on me, baby!" Ewan exclaimed. Letta rolls her eye and ignores his comment. "No . . . practice a kissing scene? I'm sure ya'll are good at it . . . especially you, Bianca." Everyone chuckles at this. I glare at Ewan.

"Don't look at me! It was Titania who blabbed!"

"What! I did not!" Titania squealed as she slapped Ewan's shoulder.

I shake my head and grab a can paint. I quickly go backstage, snatching a few old unused customs so I could put them on and not get paint all over me. "Hey, Bianca! I think this is what we're supposed to paint," Roland said as I meet him on the left side of the stage. He's pointing to a stark white set with numbers written on it, indicating which color of paint to use. "I guess so . . ." I say quietly.

"Hey, are you okay?" Roland asked concerned.

"Oh yeah . . . it's just all this practicing is wearing me out."

"Oh, I know! At least we can be done with it tomorrow . . . and it all might be worth it."

"Yeah . . ."

An awkward silence broke out between us. During the past two months I've really gotten to know Roland. He's very energetic and fun to be with. He claims to have no family. I even came close to inviting him to have dinner with my family, knowing exactly how he feels. Right now he resides at an apartment that Letta has generously paid for. That woman is just too sweet. It also turns out we have a lot in common. He's always wanted to be a performer and loves coffee! He even bought an espresso machine with his money he earns here. He invited me countless times for espresso, but I always turn it down. I already have one man in my life . . .

Roland breaks the silence first. He suggested that maybe we should take all of the props and paint outside, that way we won't get paint on the stage or curtains. It seemed logical so we hulled all of the stuff outside in the alley I became so known to. The memory of Ralph was long gone. The only memory I have of this alley is when Willy and I first met.

We begin to paint the set and props. As we painted we began a light conversation. I told him all about Emmy, my family, and me. He listened intently and made a few comments here and there. Only one of them made me silent . . .

"So where's Mr. Mab?"

I haven't even thought about Ralph in a long time. It surprised me that this made me feel uncomfortable. I tried to answer, but my throat clenched up, making me stay silent. "Did I say something wrong?" Roland asked concerned. I looked over at him and shook my head. "No, no . . . it's just . . . he brings back some bad memories."

"I'm guessing you are divorced?"

"Yeah . . ." I start to laugh lightly. "You know . . . I'm surprised that Ewan and Titania haven't told you about what happened."

Roland arches his eyebrow in interest. "Do I really need to know?"

I shake my head. "No . . . just that I'm divorced and he's long gone."

"Where is he now?"

"Six feet under."

Roland raises his eyebrows. "You didn't murder him, did you?"

"No! He died here in this very alley . . . he attacked me, but my Sweet Tart saved me."

"Ah . . . that's good. For a minute there I thought you were a crazy murderer!"

"Well . . . I'm not."

"No . . . you're too pretty and sweet to be one."

I feel my cheeks begin to turn pink. Roland flashes a little smirk before dipping his brush into the bucket of paint and continued to paint a set that looked like a living room. As we continued to paint a speck of paint flew at me and landed on my chin. I look over at Roland, who is whistling nonchalantly . . . a little too nonchalantly. So I dip my brush into more paint and before I begin to paint I gave the brush a swift flick towards Roland. The paint landed on the right side of his face. He stopped whistling and slowly turned his head towards me. It was my turn to whistle nonchalantly. Roland sighed and dipped his brush into more paint. He brushes it across my neck. I gasp and look over at him with a feigned expression of anger. Roland only smiled smartly.

This means war, I thought as I reach down for my paint bucket. At the same time Roland reached for his. The paint war began as we flicked paint at each other. I chased Roland down the alley as I threw all of the paint on him. Roland screamed, but strikes back by pulling me down and painting my face with the paintbrush. This went on for a while; every time we ran out of ammo we opened up another can of paint and continued to throw splotches of paint at each other.

"You look like Father Christmas puked all over you!" I exclaim when we ran out of paint. Roland was covered in a weird mixture of green and gold. "Oh yeah? Well . . . you look like a mood ring exploded on you!" he replies. I look down to see that I was covered in a mixture of blue, purple, and green. I laugh hysterically as I roll on the ground. Roland offers me his hand. I grab it and he pulls me up.

"But seriously . . . Blue is your color . . ." he says softly. I smile broadly. Roland smirks and leans down towards my face. I see his lips begin to pucker up. I gasp and step back. "Roland . . . what are you doing?" I ask shocked as I begin to wring my hands nervously. Roland's eyes grow wide. "Oh . . . I am sorry! I didn't know what I was thinking . . ." He covers his eyes with the heel of his hands. "It's just . . . I really like you . . ." he confessed quietly. "You're the only person I know that has been through the same things I've been through."

"What do you mean?"

"Not having a family for a long time in your life."

"I thought you didn't know about my divorce!" I felt fear begin to flare all over my body.

"I didn't! When Ewan and Titania told me about him they didn't clarify if you just ran away from him or divorced him!"

"I'm going to rip out their pancreas if they don't stop gossiping about me!"

"I'd personally poison them."

"But then I wouldn't have the pleasure to watch then suffer!"

"Oh . . . in that case, cut it them out with a butter knife. That way it will be slow and painful."

I stuck out my bottom lip as I considered this. Roland smiled coyly as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Now guilt replaced my fear. "Look . . . I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You're a great guy! But I'm in love with Willy. He and I are in a very serious relationship. And I don't want to leave it."

Roland nods. "Willy Wonka is a lucky man to have a woman like you in his life."

I smile broadly. "So can we just be friends?"

"Of course! If you ever need to talk about anything I'll be there."

"Okay," I said quietly as I felt myself blush again. For some reason Roland made me feel like a kid on Christmas morning. He's four years younger than I am so he should make me feel old . . . but it's quite the opposite. He's kind of like a little brother. And at the same time we're connected by the one similarity of being alone for a long time. He's also very attractive; the strawberry blond locks clashed so well with his dark green eyes. I swear his eyes remind me of something, I thought. The shape of his eyes and the way his chin was sculpted triggered recognition, but I couldn't place it. He probably just looks like someone on TV., I assured myself mentally.

"It looks like Mickey Mouse threw up out here!"

The familiar high pitched voice echoed in the alley. I spin around to see Willy looking down at the paint covered ground with disgust plastered on his face. I burst out laughing and walk over to him. "Well, it wouldn't if Roland hadn't started the paint fight!"

"I did not!" Roland protested.

"Did too! You and your nonchalant whistling!"

"That's just how I whistle!" Roland smiles broadly. I pick up my paintbrush and throw it hard at him. Roland tries to dodge it, but it hits his shoulder. "Ow!" he says quietly. "Oh, that didn't hurt!" I say as I look over at Willy. He had his hand over his mouth, which is in a small smile.

"Roland, I'd like you to meet my Sweet Tart . . . Mr. Willy Wonka." I pull Willy beside me, but Willy jerks away. "Don't get paint on me!" he says quietly. I chuckle lightly. "Roland walks up to us with a smile on his face. "Hey . . . I'm Roland Parker. I would shake your hand, but . . ." He holds his green and gold hands up. Willy nods vigorously. I laugh loudly and say goodbye to Roland. I quickly wash up inside and join Willy for dinner. I couldn't help to notice that we were going back to the factory.

"Are we having dinner at the factory, Willy?"

"Hmm? Wha?"

"I said are we having dinner here?"

"What? I'm sorry, I'm a bit deaf in this ear."

I narrowed my eyes at him while he puckered his lips obnoxiously. The corner of my mouth twitches up into a little smirk. I place my lips next to his ear. "Maybe I can help you with that," I said softly as I nibbled and licked his lower earlobe. Willy opens his mouth to protest, but a helplessly whimper. I drawback a little and blow a stream of air into his ear. He shivers and his eyes twitch. I laugh softly as I enter the factory.

"That's not funny!" he says after composing himself.

"Yes it is!"

Willy rolls his eyes as he leads me to the Chocolate Room. "You know, I still don't know why we're eating here," I say as we stand outside the entrance to the room. Willy takes out the ring of a million keys. "Bianca, my starshine . . ." He bends down and unlocks the door and opens it. My eyes widen as I spot a checkered blanket and big basket atop our secret hill. "A Chocolate Room picnic can't eat itself!" Willy exclaims as he leads me to our dinner.

"What's for dinner, Willy?" I ask as we took our seats on the checkered cloth. He smiles a toothy grin and opens the basket. "Baked spaghetti, garlic bread, and some red wine!" He takes out two crystal glasses and hands them to me. Next he takes out a bottle of wine and pops the cork off. He pours some crimson wine in each glass and takes one in his hand. "A toast to a happy future!" he says brightly. I giggle as we clink our glasses together. We eat dinner as we chat lightly about today. I told him all about my rehearsal and he told me about his success in the Inventing Room. As he was telling me this I couldn't help to notice a lively spark in his eyes. Oh no . . . I wonder what he has planned. If Willy has a surprise the spark in his eyes will give it away!

I take the last bite of my baked spaghetti. "Mmm . . . That was delicious! Did you make this yourself, Willy?" He nodded. "I did have some help though . . . Arlene taught me how to use the oven and Emmy helped me with the rest!"

"Aww! That must've been a cute sight!"

"Pff! She threw flour on my hair!"

I laugh as I lie down on my back. Willy leaps on me. "It's not funny!" he said while pouting playfully. "Yes it is," I said in low voice while narrowing my eyes at him. He narrowed his eyes back at me. And before I could stop him he began to tickle my sides. "Ah! . . . Willy! . . . No! . . . stop!" This went on for about five minutes. I couldn't breathe and begged for him to stop.

Willy finally let me have mercy. I just laid there, trying to return my breath when I feel Willy's fingers trailing up my thigh underneath my skirt. "Willy," I pleaded as I placed my hand on his, stopping it in its place, "this is not the place for abduction."

"With you any place is perfect."

"Willy . . ."

"C'mon . . ." He bends down and presses his lips against mine. "Please? We're on our secret hill . . ."

"I don't know . . ."

" . . . where no one can see us . . ."

"But-"

"And I haven't made love to you like this . . ."

"Well . . ." I sigh as I remove my hand. Willy captures my lips in a hard kiss as his hand crept up slowly. I feel his finger gently graze my clothed core. I whimper softly. Willy begins to move his fingers beneath my panties . . .

"Mummy!"

"UGH . . ." Willy said sadly as he rolled onto his back. I couldn't help to laugh at this. "I tried to tell you," I said smartly. Willy shifts his head towards me. "Shut up . . ." he said through pouted lips. I lean over and give him a peck on the cheek. "Maybe later, Sweet Tart," I said cheerfully as I see Emmy coming up to see us.

"Hey mummy!"

"Hey darling . . . what do you need?"

"I just wanted to give you this!" She hands me a brown book. "I finished it this morning and wanted to wait to give it to you tomorrow, but I couldn't wait any longer!"

"Are you sure you couldn't wait any longer?" Willy asked annoyingly. Emmy giggled. "It's for you too, Mr. Wonka." Willy propped himself up on his elbows. "For me too?" he asked curiously. "For the both of you!" Emmy says excitedly. "Well, let's see what it is!" Willy said brightly as he opened the book.

Page after page was filled with Emmy's drawings. "I decided to put together my favorite and greatest pieces into one big book!" he said happily. "You've really improved, Emmy," I said as I flipped through the pages. And it wasn't a total lie . . . at least I can tell what she's drawing now! One day she's going to be a great artist . . . On and on it went; pictures of the factory, the Oompa Loompas, me, our family, the Chocolate Room, Willy . . . then one particular the caught my eye.

The drawing consisted of what looked like Emmy sitting in Willy's lap (it's either that or a chair with a top hat), and it seems like they're staring down upon someone in a bed . . .

Me. This was when I was in a coma. Now that I look at the picture, it's so sad and sweet at the same time. It's almost as if Willy were her father . . . I quickly turn the page before I get emotional. Willy places his arm around my shoulder for comfort. I give him a little smirk for thanks as we continue to flip through the book.

"Wanna see my favorite one?" Emmy asked excitedly. I look at Willy, who is smiling sweetly. "Yeah! Let's see!" he says as he hands Emmy the book. Emmy flips through until she finds the appropriate page. She hands us the book back. Both my and Willy's eyes widen at the sight.

Out of all the pictures this one seemed to be the one that was worked on the most. It's a drawing of Willy and me together with Emmy between us in both of our arms. We look so happy . . . like a family. "I love it, Emmy. Thank you," I say as I give her a hug and kiss. "It's marvelous," Willy adds in cheerfully.

"You're welcome!" Well, I better get to bed . . . Enjoy the book and goodnight."

"'Night," I say in unison with Willy. Emmy rushes off. I close the book and set it aside. "You have a great daughter, Bianca," Willy mentions softly. "Yeah," I murmur.

"Do you know why you have such a great daughter?"

"Why?"

"Because she has a wonderful mother."

I look over to see Willy smiling sweetly down upon me. I return the smile as I reach up and pull Willy down in a big kiss. Maybe we'll be a family . . . Some day . . .

A/n: Aww . . . It all seems so happy. Hmm . . . (shifts eyes). The next update won't be until some time during the next week. I'll very busy this week and weekend with band camp and my project for school. So leave some nice, refreshing reviews until I return!

Mad Wonka