The Sword and the Scythe

Chapter 1: Black Leather

Everything else she thought she knew about him was a guess. And it wasn't from lack of trying—she had asked him thousands of questions in the last four years in an attempt to get to know him. But every time she hit something deeper than "Which Led Zeppelin album is the best?" he'd clam up and shake his head. And yet, despite not knowing anything important about him, from the moment they'd met it felt as though she had known him forever. Never in her life could she have expected that a guy who wore so much black eyeliner would end up being one of the best friends she'd ever have.

She looked up from her book and noticed two women laying on a nearby blanket watching them. They seemed to be debating something before one of them got up and walked over to them, straightening her blue bikini and tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

"How are you doing, handsome?"

Leroy looked up at her with one eyebrow raised, tilting his sunglasses down just enough to make eye contact with her. "I'm doing alright, how 'bout you?"

The woman smiled, "Ooh and blue eyes. How sexy."

Charlotte couldn't help laughing and added, "He's a great guitar player too, if that helps."

Leroy turned and gave her a look, mouthing "Don't encourage her."

"Are you free tonight or are you busy with your...girlfriend?"

"Oh, I'm not his girlfriend."

The woman nodded, a smile creeping over her lips in response to Charlotte and looked back at Leroy, waiting for his answer. He smiled at her, his teeth gleaming in the sun, "Sorry, I don't date."

"I'd be happy to change that for you," she said, putting her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrows flirtatiously at him as if that would be enough to change his mind.

He just smiled at her in apology and shrugged. She walked away as Leroy rolled over onto his back and drank some whiskey out of his beaten-up old flask. It was made of tarnished steel with a scratched-up leather grip along the middle of it. Instead of getting a new one, he carried it with him everywhere even though it looked older than dirt. He always kept it filled with bourbon to drink on the go.

"Do you have to be such a lonely hermit?" Charlotte asked, grabbing the flask and taking a swig. "I'm serious Leroy—you have hot people falling all over you. Are you just super picky or does it not work down there?" He rolled his eyes and wrenched the flask back from her. "Or maybe Queen Victoria here scares 'em away. Ever thought about getting her lasered off?"

As usual, he didn't respond or give her any kind of signal that the topic was open for discussion. She'd asked him before about the self-imposed celibacy without any luck. It was hard for her to understand it—objectively speaking, he was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen. A too-skinny, alcoholic, chain-smoking diva, maybe, but strikingly attractive nonetheless.

When Charlotte reached a good stopping point in her studying, they collected their stuff and shuffled back up the stairs to the house. Having grown up in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Laguna Beach had been a welcome change for her. It wasn't a huge city, and she liked that—it was bustling with all kinds of weirdos masquerading as classy with varying success. She loved the hodge podge architecture—little beach shanties sidled up next to multimillion-dollar luxury homes and hotels. She even loved the tight, congested streets lined with shabby-chic beach stores and restaurants.

She threw her things onto the dining room table and went to her bathroom to shower off the sand and the salty sea air. When she came downstairs, she was pleased to find that Leroy had ordered a pizza. They sat and ate it, Charlotte doing more studying while Leroy sipped bourbon and smoked the menthol cigarettes he wasn't legally allowed to smoke in public. When they were both tired enough, they went upstairs and crawled into Leroy's king size bed, curled together in the middle as they had every night since she had moved in with him.