The Nature Of The Beast

11: The Secret

"You slept in late."

ALEECE SITS cross legged on the rug of the wire bed room, its big widows filling up the room and warming it to a comfortable level. I still lay with the blankets drawn around me, Aleece shirtless and grinning down at his legs, pants cuffed halfway up his shins and the pale skin tanning beneath the sun.

He takes out a cigarette and lights it with closed eyes, leaning back with a peace before questioning me gingerly, rubbing his hand over mine from his spot below the bed. "Is everything alright? You look pale."

"I'm fine." I lie. "Is Alexei still here?"

"I got him a cab home last night, he was pretty drunk, poor boy can't hold his liquor to save his life."

Oh God please don't talk about life. The thought has me sick all over again, burying my green cheeks into the pillow and drawing a slow breath, forcing myself to calm in the heat of the moment. "Thanks." I murmur from my spot, the words muffled though I make no effort to move.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" He seems to think on it for a moment before his face drops, regaining his usual demeanor only a few moments after. "Was it what I said last night?"

"No!" I correct in a hurry, sitting up in a flash though instantly regretting it with the onslaught of a headache. "I love you too, Aleece, and it's quick but I don't care. I know how I feel for you."

My response leaves his features lit, lips pulled back with a bite to prevent the oncoming grin. "I love you too." He whispers almost to himself, kissing our intertwined hands and running them down the course of my jaw, eyeing me lovingly before letting go. "Do you want something for your hangover at least?"

I hadn't even noticed the pounding headache, palm pressing deep into my skull to ease the ache. Barely, I nod and a sweating glass is placed in my hand, the water cool and decorated with lemons and herbs that match the morning mood.

The man kisses my temples and heads out the room, leaving me to my creeping thoughts as I search around for a distraction of some kind, not quite ready to think of a plan for facing Duke.

Perhaps I can pretend to not know, but he's always been able to see through my lies even in the beginning. I could always just not go back, stay in the wire bed forever and drink martinis served dry and eat deviled eggs and pastries and meet the people of New York.

I can live the life of someone with an opal brooch and then some, travel and listen to the voices of a million singers and watch the films and see Charlie Chaplin in person, watch as he walks and the cameras flash and the people cheer. Just escape from this town for a while and play as if nothing had ever happened, as if I had always lived a life with Aleece and Gilded had never happened.

Yet I can't leave Flower, or Moxie for that matter, no matter how much he has seemed to change. Everything, and everyone is changing, hell I've changed, I'm in the bed of a man fantasizing about going away with him, something I would've gotten sick over merely a few weeks ago.

"Aleece." I call though he isn't in the room, kicking the blankets to the end of the bed and waiting for a response from another room. The blonde returns with a plate of food, the original pastries from the first day, the scent already nostalgic, and more glasses of lemon herb water.

"I brought you the paper, it's a bit happier this morning." He's right, the headlines bright and cheery and pictures of women smiling flash across the front as the pages flip. "The sports are doing good, the World Series is coming up, I might go and see it in person this year."

"Do you travel a lot?" I quiz, making room for him to sit up beside me in the bed, crawling into the space left in his open arm and cradling my head to his bare chest.