Elliot sat in a plush arm chair in the entryway, wrapped in darkness. Outside the sun had waved its farewells and tucked itself under the horizon. The street lights glowed a warm yellow and banished people's fear of the dark. From the kitchen she could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing. Minutes ticked by as Elliot sat in complete silence.
Eventually, the front door opened and Tristan stepped inside.
Elliot pulled the chain on a tall lamp, illuminating Tristan and the entryway. A fedora was perched at an angle on her head. She gave Tristan a patronizing smile, her fingers steepled.
"Well, well, well," she said, "look who decided to show his face."
Tristan looked at her, unfazed by her greeting or the tableau before him.
"You been there an hour?" he asked.
"Give or take a few half an hours."
Tristan eyed the arm chair and the lamp.
"Where did you get the stuff?" he asked.
"The living room. Cece brought it in."
He nodded to her head.
"And the hat?"
"Earnest, down the street. In exchange I had to make him part of my squad. It was a deal I could live with."
"The wifi any good there?"
"Excellent," Elliot said. She scowled. "But let's not change the subject here. I saw you today with a woman."
"I know," he said. "You make about as good a spy as Cece does a baker, painter, and nun."
Elliot tossed up her hands, tossing aside the mafia persona she had been going for.
"Why didn't you tell us you were seeing someone?"
"Because I planned on keeping it a secret until we had two kids and a house on the Cape."
Elliot scoffed.
"We're not that bad," she said.
"The last time I brought someone over for you two to meet, Cece asked her if she would prefer being beheaded or run through by a bayonet."
Elliot held up a hand, in a placating gesture.
"In Cece's defense, she was writing a book that was set in the French Revolution and looking for general feedback."
"It makes no difference," Tristan said. "She ran screaming and Cece took that as being run through by a bayonet. Where is she anyways?"
He looked around, as if Cece would pop up to annoy him.
"She is in the kitchen," Elliot said. "Since she has made up with Milo she's back to searching for inspiration to finish her last few chapters. Right now she is assessing how long we would make it in the zombie apocalypse on the food we currently have."
"Let's go see how long we have," Tristan said.
"Ten bucks says its less than a day," Elliot said.
"You're on."
He walked away and Elliot rushed to follow, tossing the fedora back on the chair. They entered the kitchen to find Cece on her knees, studying the lower half of the cabinets. Silently, they both took seats at the table, waiting for Cece's search to end. After a minute she stood, her hair disheveled. She kicked the wooden door closed and let out a tired huff.
"What's the verdict?" Elliot asked.
Cece dropped into a chair.
"We would last two hours," she said. "Since Tristan here is a nervous eater."
Both Tristan and Elliot nodded at this comment, and he handed her a ten.
"But don't worry," Cece continued. "I have devised a plan where we slowly steal food from Ms. Newett and leave behind something that would draw the zombies to her first."
"Excellent work, Cece," Elliot said. She laced her finger together and placed them on the table.
"Now," she said. "Let us get back to the important matter at hand. Tristan's shame of being related to us."
Cece slapped the table.
"Yes," she said. "Let's discuss this, shall we dear brother."
Tristan sat back in his chair, his manner relaxed.
"I'm not ashamed of you," he said, shrugging. "You guys can just come off a little crazy."
Elliot and Cece looked at each other in astonishment, then back at Tristan.
"What?!" Cece burst out.
"Who me?!" Elliot said.
"I'm not crazy," Cece said.
"How could you say that?!"
"Just ask my five psychiatrist. They'll tell you."
"I've only been titled manic," Elliot said. "And it was by the homeless guy on the street!"
Cece pointed at Tristan indignantly.
"The other half of the family is crazy. That's who is crazy."
"We don't do crazy. Just overly intense with a side of madness."
"Like we would ever be crazy!"
"The idea is absurd!"
Both girls looked at each other again.
"Okay, I think I seeing what you are saying," Cece said, turning back to Tristan.
"You might be onto something there," Elliot said.
Tristan looked at them with a blank expression.
"You two are hilarious," he said. "You should go on the road."
Cece smiled at him.
"We thought about it," she said, "but the man on the street said we sucked. He also took our ten cents for wasting his life."
"The ten cents had been from a homeless guy who felt sorry for us," Elliot put in.
She rested her chin on her fist.
"You know looking at it now," she said, "your decision to hide this woman from us is making more and more sense."
Tristan nodded.
"I'm glad you can see the brilliance behind my decision."
Cece crossed her arms and rested them on the table.
"Do you like her?" she asked.
"No," Tristan said. "I decided to take her on a date because I loathe her."
"Hey," Elliot said. "You didn't like she-who-must-not-be-named at first either and look how far that relationship went."
Tristan flinched and Elliot cringed.
"Too soon to mention her?" she asked.
Tristan shrugged as if he wasn't sure what he was even talking about. Cece scowled, looking at him.
"I didn't know you dated Voldemort's sister?" she said.
"My excuse is that I was under a spell," Tristan said.
"More like a hex if you ask me," Elliot muttered. "That-"
"Which, "Cece said, "is why Tristan you should have told us about this new girl. We can help you keep a clear head."
Tristan stretched, seeming unconcerned about the whole matter.
"It was a simple date," he said. "Nothing happened and I'm not the same man I was before. So there is nothing to be worried about."
He stood, his way of saying the discussion was over.
"I'm leaving you now," he said.
He walked away, leaving the two girls in silence. His footsteps echoed through the entryway and on the staircase. When they had heard the telltale sound of his door closing, Cece turned to Elliot.
"We're going to tail him and solve the mystery of this woman, right?" she asked.
"Duh."
Elliot stood and moved to the freezer. She grabbed a carton of ice cream, two spoons and rejoined Cece at the table.
"You ever wonder if everyone is as messed up in love as we are?" she asked.
Cece took the offered spoon and shrugged.
"Who knows," she said. "To actually know the answer to that question we would have to interact with other people; which is something I have resolved never to do again after the 08 incident."
Elliot shuddered and stared off, absentmindedly shaking her head.
"We can never relive that," she said. "Most traumatic two hours of my life."
Cece nodded with glazed eyes.
"I still have nightmares about it."
"I sometimes feel like I have shell shock from it."
"Who knew you could talk about clams for so long?"
"Who knew one person could be so self absorbed? It was all shell fish."
The front door opened and closed, the sound breaking the girl's out of their reveries. Milo entered the kitchen, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Hello, love," he said, his smile growing at the sight of Cece.
Cece jumped up, but didn't move to him.
"Milo, what are you doing here?" she asked.
Her comment didn't even dent his expression.
"I'm here to see you," he said.
"Shocker," Elliot said. "I could have sworn it was because of me."
"You know I'm suppose to be writing and you will distract me," Cece said.
Milo moved closer and Cece rounded the table, moving away from him.
"From where I am standing, you don't look like you're writing. So how can I distract you?" he asked.
He shifted to the right and Cece mirrored his movement, her lips touched with a pleased grin.
"I am not writing right now," she said, working hard to form a scowl but failing. "But I am suppose to be writing."
They moved again, in the same fashion. Elliot spooned out another scoop of ice cream and ate it as she watched them.
"Since you haven't started writing," Milo said. "I don't see how I can risk distracting you then."
"I was about to go write."
"No you weren't. The carton is new and your spoon is clean."
They continued to circle the table, their pace slowly increasing with every revolution.
"Okay, so I was going to have a little bit of ice cream and then write," Cece admitted.
"Then I will have ice cream with you and after, you can go write."
"But that's not how it's going to happen," Cece said.
Milo's expression turned mischievous, as he quickened his steps.
"Oh?" he said. "And why is that?"
"You know exactly why," Cece said.
"Do I?"
Cece scowled, but the look was unconvincing as her lips kept curving upward.
"You do indeed and that is why you need to leave."
"I'm not sure I know the reason why I need to leave. You should probably spell it out for me."
"I'm a writer not an English teacher. I'm not spelling it out for you."
Elliot put her head in her hands and groaned in annoyance, which neither of them noticed.
"Then I'm not leaving," Milo said.
"You have to!"
"Tell me why?"
Cece stopped walking and stomped her foot.
"Because I won't want to write at all, but instead spend all my time with you! Now! Are you happy I said it?"
Milo reached her and put his arms around her waist. Automatically, Cece rested her hands on his arms.
"Very," he said.
Cece scowled which widened Milo's grin. He kissed her and all thought of what she needed to do was wiped from her mind.
"Gosh! Please stop!" Elliot said. "You're making me sick."
They broke apart and looked at Elliot.
"Because we are that cute?" Milo asked.
"No," Elliot said. "Because I'm eating ice cream and you walking in circles is making me dizzy."
"We stopped walking," Cece said.
Elliot raised her head and looked at them. She made a face and dropped her head back into her hands.
"Okay," she said, "now your cuteness is going to make me hurl."
"If that is the case," Milo said, "you won't be needing that spoon anymore."
He reached for her spoon but Elliot pulled it away.
"You already stole my sister, go get your own dang spoon."
Milo laughed. He kissed Cece's cheek and released her, moving into the kitchen. In possession of his own utensil, he moved back to the table. He pulled a chair up beside Cece's, smiling at her. Elliot eyed both of them warily as they dug their spoons into the carton.
"Can you two refrain from being cute while I eat my ice cream?" she asked. "If you say no then I'm taking the ice cream and leaving. It's only fair since you two have each other."
They both nodded.
"How is the book coming?" Milo asked.
"Since Cece hasn't managed to produce a single word since you two got together I'm going to assume you are talking to me," Elliot said.
"Assume away."
Elliot brightened as the events of the day rushed back to her.
"I finally get to start writing!" she said.
Milo gave her a skeptical look.
"You and Beck have been working together for the last three months on this book," he said. "I thought you would be writing ages ago. What have you been doing instead? Making out on the couch?"
"Gross! No!" Elliot said.
"Oh so quick to deny it, little sister. Could there be feelings there?" Cece said.
"No! Definitely not."
Milo and Cece exchanged a look. Elliot pointed at them.
"If either of you quote Shakespeare to me, I will take the ice cream and go."
Milo shrugged.
"Fine, El," Cece said. "But you should know there is a fine line between love and hate."
"There is also a fine line between dead and alive," Elliot said. "So watch what you say before you cross a line."
Cece raised her hands in surrender.
"Okay," she said. "The matter is dropped."
"Good, because although I might finally tolerate Beck, it does not mean I like him."
Cece and Milo looked at each other, smirks hiding on the edges of their lips.
"That's it!" Elliot said.
She stood and grabbed the carton. Scowling, she pointed her spoon at them.
"You brought this on yourselves."
She left the kitchen followed by Milo and Cece's laughter. A sound which was quickly followed by silence and another sound that made Elliot roll her eyes.
**********************************************************************
Oh my gumbo!
Okay, I will be keep this short and sweet. If you were going to be a super hero which one would it be? Choose carefully because you will be stuck as this super hero for the rest of your life.
Mine is Killer Frost, because one: her latest outfit was awesome! Two: you know that she is really going to be a super hero, not an evil villain.
Look! It's a vote! It's a comment! No, it's a follow!
(I tried okay, that's what counts)