1He tapped on finger on the mike softly. That gained enough attention- as if there weren't enough people gawking at him anyway. He breathed into the microphone softly.
''I am ready to reply to your inquiries''
The audience stayed silent for one uncertain moment. And then the paparazzi gave way. Flashes followed flashes and an ocean wave of questions flooded the hall.
Russel gave a soft snort- the newshounds. Always ravenous for whatever scraps they could forrage... methods of attainment, whether ethical or not- none questioned them; once fed their tidbits of gossip.
He ran his hand through his hair once- out of nervousness. Frowning at his own stupidity, he mentally gave himself a good slap around. Rule number one in the fame game. Never show fear. Emotion was the enemy's biggest satisfaction. And he was sure to be cited in the paper the next day as a stereotypical male who 'though, with that macho facade, was surely a nervous soul at heart'.
''Mr. Jerome''
''If you please, Russel''
''...ABC live broadcast from Rockafeller Center, NY. Mr. Russel L. Jerome- our viewers have a few inquiries...''
''DR. Jerome''
Russel grinned obligingly at the last inquirer. The lucky prick, he'd snapped his attention, using the title of Dr.
He nodded as the inquirer gave his companions smug glances. He cleared his throat imperiously before commencing with the questions.
''MISTER Jerome''
Russel gave him a withering look.
''Where did the inspiration for your new novel 'Khalaberra' come from?''
He looked at the clock near the exit. Two hours of shallow indecrepit questions. Not too bad. The questions dragged by slowly- yet Russel found himself enjoying the pointlessness of the interview. It all seemed like a game to him. The fame game, as he had fondly titled it. He answered the majority of the questions with ease... The one question however, which made him tense up, was well noted among the journalists.
''Mr. Jerome. Is it true that you are a non-believer? An atheist perhaps?''
He'd felt his mouth go dry at that question. It was always the questions of where his faith lay that got him annoyed. He remembered highschool and and college so well during those moments. Memories of being bullied by the seniors stayed in his mind, freshly printed, yet carved into deep grooves of his conscience. Memories of how he was shunned from classes- shunned from societies due to his pagan beliefs.
He'd glazed his eyes over and responded coolly to the eager woman.
''Indeed not- I am a firm believer in Christianity''
It pained his soul to lie of his faith, yet it sufficed for the lack of curiousity.
''Mr. Jerome. What does the intial L stand for?''
Russel gave her a piercing gaze.
''Lucipher''
The hall shushed up at that. The woman blinked twice and then resurfaced.
''As in Satan?''
Russel smiled. What a perfect ending to the conference.
''Indeed so''
*********
The staccato beat made his hugh-strung nerves jiggle along to the rythm. Russel tapped his heel to the clicks of the Spanish girl's clippers and stampings.
He took in his surroundings at leisurely pace. His eyes fell upon a girl- young woman he should say- sitting alone at a table near one of the curtained windows. She apparently was focused on something more interesting than the dancing. Her eyes were fixed on him. He immediately grew shy and his eyes dropped down to his hands on the table. He looked out of the corner of his eyes timidly. He felt a surge of anger build up inside of him.
Why did he have to interrupt his peaceful survey just because someone- SHE- was staring at him? He looked up in defiance. She was still staring.
*Oh Shit*
She was preparing to get up. He could tell by the look in her eyes that he was her destination. He had no choice but to deal with her. He very well wouldn't leave just for her. He instead immersed himself into the vocal talents of a slightly overweight Spanish alto who was propped against a piano near the dancefloor.
Click.
Click
Click.
He looked up. The girl actually had the gall to come up- unintroduced- and lean against a chair while lighting herself a cigarette. He calmed himself down. There wasn't any need to get panicky. She'd go away- just like the monsters that lay in the dark. They all disappeared with the light.
Yet here she was...playing with fire. His one element of deliverance, toyed by a demon of the dark.
She smiled at him. He crossed his arms petulantly and slumped a bit in his chair. She flicked Russel a card. It landed neatly on his sideplate. He picked it up with restrained curiousity. It was a playing card. Ace of Spades.
"The highest ranking card"
He now looked up. She'd spoken. He couldn't quite place the accent... it was somewhat a light lilting tone- yet filled with purpose. He offered her the card back. She shook her head.
"They're your winnings. The card chooses its recipient. I just help the card reach its new owner"
She took the card from his hand and placed it safely in his breast-pocket.
"Take care of it, and fortune may favour you"
The corner of his mouth twitched. So. He'd attracted a gypsy of trades. He dared to call himself fairly accomplished at this time. He relaxed a bit. He gestured for her to sit down. He offered her his palm.
"Read me my life and tell me what will come of it"
The woman laughed at him. A satirical laugh. He flinched.
"It's not what I do"
Instead- she sat down right next to him and held his hand in hers and looked into his eyes. He looked away. She caught his chin with her other hand and held it firm, directed towards herself.
"Why do you do that?"
Russel looked at her sheepishly.
"I'm not one for the attention"
"I can tell you much already"
He looked up at her again. Into her eyes. They were nothing brilliant... or frightening as a gypsy's should be. Infact, he felt rather comfortable. She smiled as she saw him relax. Then she resumed her study.
"Your eyes- they are green"
"I could have... sorry"
He bit himself from a smart comment as she gave him a sharp look.
"Green. You know what it symbolises Russel"
He jolted away- a bit disconcerted.
"How did you know my name... oh"
He glanced down at his name-tag from the day's authors convention.
"You are quick to react in all situations. You are thoughtful. Pensive. Inspired? You must be involved in the creative arts"
"I write books"
"An author...? Fascinating. Not really"
"Thank you," he commented dryly.
"You are calm... but only on the outside. Inside... you are a nervous wreck. As brittle as sandstone. Easy to break. And break you will. Soon. You are under a lot of pressure. You have too few goals in life. Your main aim at the moment is to pass the moment"
She sighed and pushed her chair away from him a bit. He looked at her, concerned.
"What is it? Continue"
She shook her head.
"I thought you would be different. But I'm afraid you're nothing more than the rest of them"
He looked at her with a pleading look.
"But you said the card chose me. The ace of spades?"
He gestured towards his pocket.
She looked at him- the spark of interest re-kindled.
"Yes... It did choose you. Why do you care? I would have thought you had no respect for the occult or the prophetic "
He spread his hands on the table and looked into candle-flame.
"I guess I thought you were a bit different. But I'm afraid you're nothing more than the rest"
She looked into the flame with him. He smiled at her sarcastically.
"Well?"
"Well what? Congratulations. You've caught my interest"
*********
Russel walked into his appartment as quietly as he could. Jullianna was still sleeping and he had no intention of waking her. He walked into the kitchen and quietly, yet methodically arranged the groceries from the morning.
"Russ?"
A groggy voice travelled across the appartment.
He walked back into the bedroom. Jullianna was half-awake, sinking into the soft duvet and goose-feather pillows. Her raven black hair was spread across the pillow and it cascaded off the edge of the bed. Russel walked over and sat down beside her stationary form.
"Hi"
"Hi"
She smiled at him.
"Where've you been?"
"Grocery"
"Need help in the kitchen?"
"No. I'm just about done"
"Oh. Alright then"
He sat there in silence for a while. Jullianna slid a hand across the bed and placed it on his. She spoke to him softly. So quietly that he had to listen carefully.
"You know... If there's anything you ever need to talk about...I'm here. I'm right here. And I love you- very much"
Russel nodded.
"Thank you"
With that, he patted her hand and got up to leave.
She looked at his retreating figure with considerable misery. Russel's voice rang across the appartment from the living room.
"So then- I'm going out"
Jullianna propped herself up on her elbows and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
"Where to?"
There was a pause.
"I should be meeting Myra"
Her voice quivered a bit.
"Myra?"
Russel reappeared. He looked up absently.
"Yes... Myra"
Jullianna looked at him bitterly.
"She called yesterday"
"Oh- I know- I spoke to her last night"
"You were with her?"
"Yes... I happened to run into her at the campus"
Russel looked at her closely. She was about to start crying again. He knew she would- she always did after he left. It hurt him so much to see her cry because of him. But what was he supposed to say? That him and Myra were just friends? It would sound as though they were involved in an affair. And besides- she should have known by now that Myra was his closest friend- closer than any of the boys down at the pub.
He gathered himself together and went to sit beside Jullianna again. He leaned over and stroked her cheek.
"I shouldn't be long. Maybe we could go out for a nice lunch"
"I... I thought you were going to cook lunch today"
Russel kicked himself mentally. That's right- he'd promised her one of his sumptuous homemade lunches.
"Well- I don't really feel up to it- maybe later"
He wondered if he was meant to give her a peck on the cheek. Honestly, he was no good at these things. She solved the problem for him. She leaned over and gave him a hug.
"Bye then"
Russel looked at her, a bit concerned. Just a hug? And a goodbye, just like that? He took a risk and planted a kiss on her lips. She opened her eyes in curiousity. This was a nice surprise. He rose hastily.
"Bye Julie"
She touched her lips tenderly.
"Bye Russ"
********
"I kissed her today"
Myra arched an eyebrow.
"Well well, open the gates and let the cavalry flood in. And why today? Darn- I didn't forget your anniversary did I?"
Russ blushed.
"Anniversary? I wouldn't call an anniversary for something that's been going on for only one year"
"That's how you see it then?"
"Well... no... I mean- I expect it to go on... It's just that... It's not like we're MARRIED"
"Yeah. I could imagine how bad that'd be"
He stopped walking and looked at Myra seriously.
"I liked it"
"Kissing her?"
"Yeah"
"So do it again"
"It doesn't mean much to you, does it?"
"Lets put it this way- it means a whole lot more to you"