In a darkened room, a lone man sat—his whole body sagging with either exhaustion or deep sorrow.  A jacket lay in careless disarray across the pillows, and an untied length of fabric draped haphazardly around his neck.  A single shot glass stood on the table next to a bottle of fine whiskey, its rim dry, with nary a drop having touched the inside. 

He touched his thumb under each eye, cognizant—perhaps for the first time—of the incredible gift that had missed being extinguished today only by Lady Luck herself. 

It was in the pale light of dawn that he gathered himself to shower and dress, his heart heavy with news depths of … something he'd rather not investigate.  He ached to hold her.  

Instead, he settled for a smile and a brush of a kiss on a cheek at the office.  She searched his eyes.  Without a doubt, he knew she saw the emotions raging under the cocky grin. 

“So early, Mr. Steele?  I didn’t think you did anything before nine.”

“I have a full slate today, Miss Holt.  I thought I’d get a jump on it, so to speak.”  He flashed a deliberate wide smile. 

She rolled her eyes, stepping back to wave him toward his empty desk.  “Your hordes are waiting.”

He started to walk past her, then turned with deliberate nonchalance.  “Miss Holt, I wonder if you might be free this evening.” 

“Free for what?”

“Inasmuch as you like dancing, I thought perhaps you might like to see the Rockettes; they’re in town for their Christmas show.”  He adored the way Laura’s whole face softened whenever he managed to strike exactly the right touch of romance with her.

“I’d like that, Mr. Steele.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at seven and take you to dinner after.” 

Something unknotted inside as he watched his partner gracefully return to her office.  No offending marks scarred her back.  Lady Luck indeed. 
 


28 December 2010