Titanium Lullaby - Chapter 1
Roger studied Dorothy out of the corner of his eye. Fading sunlight filtered in through the car windows, throwing golden highlights into the otherwise, deep mahogany of her hair. Fiery light laced her profile, running along the outline of her face and illuminating it. He'd always noticed that something strange about her.
She wasn't a remarkably stunning individual and had no real allure or seductive appeal. But her unshakable countenance was reassuring somehow and she instilled a longing. Not desire but something more in tune...to a man in a snowstorm looking towards a window through which was a fire lit room. And this feeling she instilled was translated by his eye into beauty.
She turned, feeling his gaze most likely, and lifted an eyebrow giving him her look that was somehow curious and emotionless at the same time. "What are you staring at Roger Smith?" she said, her tone mildly provoking as if she knew he'd been staring at her,
Yea. She was beautiful. Except when she opened her mouth. "You know, you'd be a lot more attractive if you kept your mouth closed." He said without thinking.
"Do you find me attractive Roger Smith?" Ignoring the choked sound he made. "I am flattered."
"I didn't mean that! I just meant...." He broke off. He had no idea what he meant.
"So you do not find me attractive?"
"No! I mean.... Wait!"
"Roger Smith. You-"
"I know, I know." He flashed that boyish grin of his, even though he knew it didn't work on Dorothy. "I'm a louse."
"Yes. But I was going to say that you missed the turn."
The tires squealed as Roger growled lightly and flipped a U-turn, sliding onto the opposite side of the street to go back. If Dorothy ever laughed he knew she would have been doing so now. As it was she simple gave him a guile-less look when he gave her a mild glare. He huffed and ran a hand through her hair. Boy was she a distraction.
"What's the name of the client again?" He questioned.
"Elizabeth Adams. Age: 52." Dorothy replied easily.
"Elizabeth huh?" Roger smirked. "An elegant older lady. Alright then." He turned the key backwards then slipped it free of the ignition as they pulled to a stop infront of a pair of silver gates, that came together like wings from either side of a long white stonewall that circled a large estate house. Roger walked forward and laid a hand against the gate and they swung inward. "Shall we go up then?" he asked gesturing gallantly for Dorothy to go ahead of him.
She cast him a look then walk past onto the stone walk way. The path spiraled it's way up through a yard of flawless emerald broken here and there by rose bushes, hacked and shackled with tiny white fences to keep it neat and inline, growing straight upwards instead of stretching beyond it's decided limits. No sign of weeds of wild growing flowers, all rebel plants probably hacked away viciously, the only shrubbery allowed to flourish there being those implanted by the land's owner.
From the yard the path curved in a hedge maze, thick green bushes rising up around them, also neatly clipped and trimmed, perfect flat walls so it almost looked like wall papered wood instead of actual bush.
"Apparently our Ms. Adams has a taste for the neat yet eccentric." Roger commented, as her walked behind Dorothy's slow, easy pace.
"What is the point of having maze if there is a path leading to the way out?" Dorothy questioned with that tone of careless curiosity.
Roger smirked a bit. "It would be a bit bothersome if visitors got lost on the way to the door wouldn't it?"
"True." Dorothy conceded and fell silent again.
The maze took a turn and the estate house itself rose before them, composed of sand-peach bricks and a blond wood roof that scrapped against the sky. The last rays of sunlight flashed of polished glass windows that through sports of color over the stone porch below where Roger and Dorothy stood facing a bright red pained door. A heavy brass knocker hung there, a serpent's head clutching a ring.
Dorothy lifted a hand to raise the heavy ring then let it wall again where it clattered against the brass plate beneath it, sending the chime of metal on metal as well as the hallow thumping of wood, echoing around them. There was a shuffling from inside the house and then the door was tugged open slowly.
A young woman stood in the doorway and studied them, then her lips tipped into a light smile as her eyes slide over Roger. "Let me guess." She drawled with amusement. "Roger Smith. The negotiator."
"Yes, um." Roger cleared his throat. "Is your mother here?"
The woman smiled. "My mother's been dead for years Mr. Smith." She offered a hand "Elizabeth Adams."
"You're Miss Adams?" Roger said, taking her hand more out of ingrained manners then anything else. Her frowned. "I thought your file said you were 52." Throwing Dorothy a look, but she wasn't paying attention to him or even to Ms. Adams. She was staring past them both into the house.
"52? Oh my mistake. I meant to put 25. How silly of me." She smiled and stepped back. "Please come in Mr. Negotiator."
Roger fiddled with his tie arrogantly. "Just Roger will do." He glanced back when Dorothy didn't move. From the way she'd been studying the room beyond the door he'd thought she'd be first to accept the invitation to enter. "Are you coming Dorothy?"
She shook her head. "I will remain here Roger Smith."
He gave her a look then shrugged, he'd become accustomed to Dorothy's strange ways. "Alright then. Suit yourself." Then walked in.
The door clicked shut quietly behind him, leaving Dorothy out on the porch alone. She studied the red woodwork a moment then turned and disappeared back into the maze.