Belle's Friends

Chapter 6

Rumple has confessed to Miss French that he is in a slump but denies being concerned. She answers his phone and he is reminded that he has a date with Zelena Hart, the daughter of a previous paramour; she is a woman he does not particularly like. He is too drunk (and repulsed) to perform with Miss Hart later that night and, in the morning, informs Miss French that this relationship is done. He then does a pastel drawing of Miss French which is the first inspired thing he's done in a long while.

Focus

Belle tried to focus on her job. She had a lot of cleaning to do, a lot of laundry, a lot of just general picking up. And then there was the cooking. Her mind kept going back to the pastel portrait Mr. Stiltskin had done of her. She had looked amazing. The man had managed to capture a deep hidden side of her – the romantic dreamer. It was all right there on the paper now for everyone to see. It had made her feel vulnerable, nearly naked, out there for all the world to see.

Drunken screw-up he might be, but he was truly gifted.

She was grateful when the phone rang. "Mr. Stiltskin's residence," she answered.

There was a pause. "Is Rumson there?" It was a woman, a soft-voiced, sultry sounding woman. Likely another one of his girlfriends or would-be girlfriends.

"He's working in his studio. May I take a message?" she said.

There was another long pause. And an audible sigh. "I guess. Let him know that Miss Black called. He has my number." And she hung up.

"Who was that?" Rumple called to her from the studio.

"A Miss Black, sir. She said you had her number."

Rumple stood a moment - absolutely frozen still. His eyes narrowed and he finally spoke in a slow, controlled manner, "I am never in for that woman. I am never in for someone calling on her behalf – unless it's to help make funeral arrangements." And he returned to his studio.

A Welcome Visitor

It was Monday afternoon and there was a knock at the door. She peeked and saw it was Ruby. She opened the door to her best friend.

"Girl, I just had to come by for a moment. I really wanted to see where you were working."

Belle hesitated for only a moment and shrugged. She loved her best friend, but Ruby could be impulsive and a tad bit intrusive. She let her in, "Shouldn't be a problem. I don't have to get Mr. Stiltskin up until four." She showed Ruby the up-to-date kitchen, the living area, her own bedroom and the side bathroom. They sat down in the living room.

"Awesome industrial chic," Ruby pronounced the décor. "Just a touch of boho. Hey, can we go in there?" she motioned toward the studio.

Belle shook her head. "No, Mr. Stiltskin has expressly told me not to go in there."

Ruby sat for a moment looking over at the forbidden studio. She then stood and looked around. "Hey, keep a look out," she said to Belle.

"What are you going to do?"

"He didn't forbid me not to go in there. I promise I won't touch a thing. This is just as close as I've ever been to a genius and I can't possibly pass it up. If he comes in, I'll swear you tried to stop me."

Belle watched helplessly as her friend stepped over the threshold into the large airy studio. Ruby was true to her word and didn't touch anything, just walked around and looked things over. She returned to Belle in the living room.

"Thanks, that was exciting," Ruby told her sitting back down. "Do you know he's made some sketches of you?"

"A few," Belle answered.

"A few! There are stacks of them in there, all over the place!"

At that moment, they heard some stirring and Rumple came out of the bedroom wearing sleep pants and a t-shirt.

Belle jumped up he was up early. "Sir, this is Ruby Lucas, my best friend. She just dropped by for a moment."

"Sure," he yawned. "Anything to eat?"

"Of course," she answered. "I'll get your coffee on."

Ruby stood. "I probably need to be going."

Rumple stretched. "Stay for coffee if you like. I haven't had any opportunity to meet any of Miss French's friends."

"Sure," Ruby spoke up exuberantly before Belle could say anything. Belle led the way into the kitchen and began fixing the coffee while Rumple and Ruby sat at the kitchen island.

"This is a gorgeous apartment. Love the concrete and stainless steel mix," Ruby was about to say more but Belle signaled for her to be quiet.

"What would you like to eat, sir?" Belle asked her employer after setting his coffee in front of him.

"How about one of your egg sandwiches." After a moment, he turned to Ruby. "Would you like one? Miss French does a great egg sandwich – sometimes even uses real eggs." He was still a bit blurry-eyed and was slurring his words, not quite awake.

"Sure," said Ruby. "Belle uses my Granny's recipe for them and they are great."

Belle had also fixed her friend some coffee and dutifully got out the frying pan to begin fixing the sandwiches. She also brought out bread, lettuce and tomatoes and some of her home-made garlic-mayonnaise. She began toasting the bread and then turned back to Rumple.

He glanced at his coffee, "Butterscotch schnapps," he ordered and once Belle had handed him the golden liqueur, he offered some to Ruby who eagerly accepted. He poured about a quarter cup of the sweet schnapps into her remaining coffee and then did the same for himself. "Brightens the taste of the coffee," he told her.

Between cooking chores, Belle glanced at the planner she kept in the kitchen. "You have a five o'clock with Miss DeVries," she reminded him.

"Yeah, Corie wanted to talk with me about commissioning some pieces for her new place. She might be referring some of her friends to me for portraits," he remembered. "Nothing else?"

Belle double-checked the calendar. "No sir."

Belle was ready with a second cup of coffee when Rumple finished his first cup. He also augmented this with the schnapps. And after taking a sip of his second cup he turned to Ruby.

"How long have you known Miss French?" he asked her.

Ruby brightened, "Since middle school. We had the same gym class together and just connected. We've been bffs ever since."

"Nice," he said and gave her a gentle smile.

Belle was watching and saw her friend just beam when Mr. Stiltskin gave her his full attention. Ruby was like some fan-girl basking in the aura of her idol. And Mr. Stiltskin was certainly turning on the charm.

"Ruby's family owns Granny's Country Diner," Belle shared. "I worked there when I was in high school and college. Ruby's thinking of adding a couple more restaurants but her grandmother isn't sure it's the right thing to do."

"She's afraid it'll lose that je ne sais quoi that makes it Granny's Country Diner. But I've got the financing lined up and a full business plan. My idea is to start small and gradually expand. I don't want to overextend."

"Ruby's got an undergrad in Business and is working on her MBA," Belle explained.

"Nice," Rumple said.

Ruby had finished her coffee. "Listen guys, now that I'm properly buzzed, I really need to go. I just stopped by to check out . . . uh, check on Belle. I've got a class to get to. It was really nice meeting you," she had turned back to Rumple.

"I'll have to make a point to stop by Granny's," Rumple told her, standing to walk her to the door.

"Hey, I've got a menu," and Ruby stopped to dig in her purse. She pulled out a folded shiny pamphlet and, while her attention was still on stuffing things back into place in her voluminous pocketbook, she dropped the paper on the floor rather than into Rumple's hand.

He bent down to pick it up and Belle nearly giggled. Her friend had leaned over to check him out as he bent over. Ruby made eye contact with Belle and gave her a solemn nod and a 'thumbs up.'

Rumple returned to the counter to finish his lunch when Ruby left. Belle felt her phone vibrate and checked it. There was a message from Ruby – a little bobbing flame.

In the Early Evening

Corie had blown in and they'd finished up quickly – she was indeed sending him a couple of her friends for him to do au natural portraits. She also wanted him to do a portrait of her current lover whom, she had told him, wasn't quite willing to drop her drawers for the honor of art. He'd have to meet with Ursula to find out what she was comfortable with doing and get a better idea from the young woman what she wanted out of the experience.

"How's it going with your little maid?" Corie had asked.

"Wha-at? She's my maid. She keeps the place clean."

"Oh my, are you that fuckin' clueless? You've got pictures of her all over this room . . . and they're damn good." Corie polished off the Gin Rickey he'd made for her when she'd came in. "You have feelings for her."

"Well, yeah. She's a good maid. I can find things. I have clean clothes. I don't run out of coffee."

Corie laughed. She was enjoying herself. "No, I mean you have feelings for her." And for a brief moment, Corie became uncharacteristically serious. "You care about her. What she thinks of you. What's going on for her. Real feelings."

Rumple considered. "Maybe . . . a little. She's a nice person and has had a bit of rough go recently."

Corie shook her head, "No, I don't mean that you feel sorry for her, like she's some little lost kitten. You really like her. You . . . what's the word? . . . you respect her."

"Corie, are you sober?" Rumple asked her.

"Oh fuck, no," she told him. "If I were sober, I wouldn't have these insights. Darling, you need to be careful. You need to protect your heart. Miss French is the kind of girl you could fall in love with," she warned him.

Rumple snorted. "Love? Tell me, dearie, do you believe in love?"

"Yes. Yes, I do," she confessed. "I know people think I'm a hard bitch, but even for me, love has tempered my . . . temper. It has made me a better person – not a great person, mind you, but better than I was." She laid her hand on Rumple's arm. "Listen if Ursula hadn't been in my life, I would have made a play for your maid – just to see if she might be up for some experimentation, trying something besides driving stick, but . . . because of Ursula . . . well, I didn't try anything. That's a big change for me. So, I'd have to admit that yes, love has changed me."

Rumple considered. "You are a bit more mellow now than you used to be. Kinda miss the old Corella."

"Well, hell, Rumple, sometimes I do too," and she leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek.

The Night Off

"I'm taking the evening off," she told him after having served him a supper. It was now Tuesday and something had come up.

"What?! You can't have time off!" he protested. He should have known something was up. She was dressed differently, a little more fancy, with a top that went a good deal lower than her usual daily wear – it suggested cleavage. She had on girly heels. She'd put a wide belt around her waist and was showing off an hourglass figure.

He was sitting at the table enjoying his dinner. Belle had, yet again, fixed him something delicious to eat. Tonight was some type of burger. He wasn't exactly sure what type it was, but he had learned not to ask questions when he might not want to know the answers.

But now, hearing her news, he had stopped eating and sat gaping at her.

"What do you mean I can't have time off?" she turned on him. "I've been working for you, what now? three weeks, seven days a week, from seven o'clock in the morning, until nine or even later at night. I've had one evening out this entire time and I think I have more than earned some additional time off."

Well, it would be petty of him to deny this. "All right. You'll be back at ten?" She'd had an evening out? When had she have an evening out?

"I'll be back when I get back," she told him firmly.

"All right then. But," he put his fork down. He stood and walked over to her, closely examining her outfit with his artist's eye. It was designed to attract attention. He was intrigued. He was taller than she was, even with her teetering heelsand he was able to catch a distinct glimpse of cleavage. He was scandalized. She'd gotten her hair into burnished curling ringlets how could he have ever thought of her hair as mousy? and, judging by her heightened coloring, had put on a little makeup. He was astonished.

"You're going out looking like that?" he asked her.

"What's wrong with the way I look?" she asked him.

"It's kinda trashy," he told her. "I like your other clothes better."

Her expressive face revealed her hurt feelings following his comments. "I thought I was dressing up. This isn't nearly as revealing as what some of your lady friends have worn."

"Well, my lady friends are all sluts. Now, tell me about this date," he pressed her.

She looked at him. "Mr. Stiltskin, I don't believe I have to do that."

"Hey, I'm just trying to be polite and be interested in what's going on in your life. Who are you going out with?" he wheedled.

"You're kinda sounding like my father." She sighed, suspecting he was not going to give up without her sharing something. "If you must know, I got a call from an old boyfriend. He told me he and his wife were having a bit of a rough patch and he wanted to talk about it."

Rumple leaned back. "Soooo, what do we have here? An old boyfriend calls you and wants to tell you how his wife doesn't understand him and you get all gussied up to go off to meet with him in some dark bar."

"We're going to Bouchon's, if you must know." She named the charming little French restaurant on Lexington.

"Okay then, you're going to meet with him in a chic French restaurant where he will tell you that his marriage was all a mistake and he never should have broken it off with you."

Belle shook her head, "I broke it off with him, for your information."

"Ohh?" he arched an eyebrow and sat back down. "Sex wasn't good enough?"

Belle sighed, "None . . . of your business."

Rumple sat picking at his meal. "So . . . it was the sex."

Belle nearly sputtered. "I'll be back later. Take care of yourself."

And she walked out.

Rumple pushed his food around on his plate, his appetite gone. What was he going to do with himself? He'd gotten dependent on the little maid for company and conversation. She was bright and quick-witted and very easy on the eyes. She was also easy to bait and fun to watch when he managed to strike a nerve.

He left his plate on the table and got up to return to his studio. He sat in the darkened room, lit by the lights from the street. It was a grey room with darker grey shadows, odd black angles and peculiar murky lines. He felt it reflected his soul, cluttered and done up in shades of black.

His life was a mess.

He was struggling to meet his commitments. In fact, he hated his stupid commitments – all stupid commission pieces for stupid people – and now he was about to add a bunch more. There was nothing coming from his heart. His heart, he decided, was a burnt-out husk.

He picked up his drawing pad and opened it. It contained one of the pencil drawings he'd done of Belle, one of her working and completely oblivious to his mad sketchings.

He poured himself some whiskey. Damn. This work was good. Not like the other pieces he'd been churning out. This had spirit, life, energy – like the woman herself. He sat looking over the sketch, his eyes lingering over the slant of her shoulders, the curve of her neck, the silky smoothness of her skin, the moist kissable quality of her lips.

What the fuck was he thinking? He slammed the sketch down and took another drink.

The woman clearly had no interest in him. And why should she? She was . . . what? half his age? And had a life outside of cleaning his toilets. She probably had loads of friends. Plus, she'd seen him at his worst, passed out, vomiting. She'd cleaned up all manner of his garbage. She'd washed out of his skivvies, for Pete's sake.

But there was something there.

At least on his side of things.

Even when he knew that beginning a relationship with your muse was a sure-fire path to destroying both the relationship and the muse.

Bouchon's

Belle sat with Will at the little restaurant.

"Belle, I'm so grateful you agreed to see me. I'm sorry when I called you, I'd had a few. . ." Will was genuinely sorry, maybe even a bit embarrassed.

"I understand, Will. You told me you and Ana . . ?"

"Yeah. She wants us to move. Got this job offer that would likely require her to work twelve to fifteen hours a day. There's a lot more money in it but I . . . I think there ought to be more to life than work and money. We're doing all right now and I just can't see the move and the job. We had a big row and I stomped out."

"Such a tough decision, Will," Belle told him.

"Yeah, and I know you can't make it for me." Will gave a rough laugh, "Hell, I'm pretty sure that you'd have the same concerns that I do."

Belle listened to her old beau rant and cry and carry on, punctuating his remarks with the occasional word and frequent nod. They were each on their second glass of wine when Belle looked up.

"Oh, bloody hell!" she said under her breath.

"What's up?" Will asked and turned to look in the direction Belle was staring. There was a slight man with unkempt hair and wrinkled clothes standing in the front of the restaurant.

"It's my boss," she told him. Rumple saw her, smiled and waved, chatting quietly with one of the waitstaff who brought him a drink. He sauntered into the restaurant, making his way slowly over to the table.

"So, this is your date for the evening?" he asked, pulling up a chair and putting his drink down on the table.

"Will, this is Rumson Stiltskin. You may be familiar with both his music and his art. He's my boss. I'm sure he'll tell us what he is doing here," her glare fixed on Rumple.

"Just happened to be in the neighborhood and suddenly thought about their wonderful moules frites. I like the ones cooked in Pabst Blue Ribbon with some added red pepper. Decided I had to have some." He smiled at both of them.

"Of course, you did," Belle looked at him astonished . . . appalled. What was he doing here?!

"So, this is the young man who drunk dialed you?" he asked her affably.

Thanks so much to those who are continuing to read this little urban romance. Thanks to my wonderful reviewers: Wondermorena, Grace5231973, anynwy, Erik'sTrueAngel, and jewel415. (Reviews are so much fun -thx - twyla).

For anyone with any interest, I do have a Pinterest file on this story (under Twyla Mercedes) listed as The Artist. It contains inspiration pictures of Belle's Mori Kei clothing style and Rumple's Industrial Chic decorating style.

NEXT: Rumple interjects himself into Belle's date and there are repercussions.
Later, Rumple gets ready for a fundraiser and Belle meets up with her friends.