Wednesday, June 12, 2013



“Questions!? No questions!”

“Really, bro?”

“Seriously, sis. I said no!”

“Tell me why!”

“Usually mom deals with this crap!”

“Very funny, you know mom is dead.”

“Why are you asking me for this now? We’re adults!?”

“Xanthippe! That’s who you always said I was.”

“Yes, you can be.”

“Zero risk here, bro.”

“Again with your persistence! You know I hate them.”


“Come on, you know the potential risk!”

“Damn you, bro! Get over it!”

“Enough! This is ridiculous.”

“Finally, you see reason.”

“Go away then, I don’t want to see them!”

“How can you let this be a big deal!?”

“I hate them even if you don’t, always have!”

“Just watch; be careful with them and all will be well.”

“Keep them over there then.”

“Least you can do is trust me to handle them with care.”

“Mom showed you how to do it?”

“Not going to abandon you no matter how messy it may get.”

“Open the bubble bottle.”

Diamonds on her wrist and whiskey on her tongue

It was a perfectly extravagant moment, she was aware of this on every level. The view. The music. Her surroundings. Her dress. All of it, excessive and extravagant.

The gunmetal silk of her simply designed dress clung to her in all the right places and felt like an angel’s whisper against her skin; the span between the narrow straps suspending a cascade of black and silver beads that draped down her bare back, moving and sparking in the warm moonlight. An almost touchable breeze blew across her arms and legs, inconstant and tantalizing as a lover’s teasing fingertips and the sensation brought a secret smile to her burgundy lips.

Her long ebony hair was swept up into a loose pile of curls and waves, creamy gardenias and diamond pins scattered through the heavy mass, the scent intoxicating and she was happy to be taking this moment in the center of such a heady cloud. Strains of Spanish influenced guitar accompanied by a violin wafted through the crowd, weaving through and wrapping around bodies and minds, lulling and seducing with the pull of a bow and the pluck of a sting.

She leaned against the low wall that edged the balcony, smoked glass and bright chrome, a heavy cut crystal glass dangling from her polished fingertips as her smoke gray eyes drank in the view of the valley at her feet.

This was one of those moments. Everything was perfect. The music, the location, the feel of the air; this time and place could never be duplicated and she was acutely aware of its perfection and yet she didn’t feel the need to try to hold onto it. She was content to let it hold her, and hold it briefly in return.

Turning around she leaned back against the low wall, closing her eyes and letting herself completely soak in this perfect bite of life with diamonds on her wrist and whiskey on her tongue.