“That was just so, incredibly deep. Damn, and that language as well! I don’t think I know too many people who even know what ‘melancholy’ means! So you’re an art nerd!” Ambrose mocked her. In truth, he had never taken much of an interest in any of those things. Yet he sensed a certain truth in her words, and more importantly, they had further confirmed that there was more to her than a pretty face.
“Too complex for Mr. Complex Numbers? I didn’t think that was possible. Do I get an award? A cookie?” she shot back.
“How about I treat you to today’s lunch?” he offered, seeing an opportunity.
“Done.” She squeezed him gently, feeling the hard muscle under the soft cotton of his shirt. Euphoria washed over him. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He was pretty sure relationships weren’t supposed to go so fast. Wasn’t there supposed to be a phase of awkwardness? It seemed far too easy, but inexplicably, all too natural. She was a novelty in his life, but she certainly didn’t seem like one. He had heard about love at first sight. Maybe that was what was happening to him? He certainly couldn’t blame himself. She was stunningly beautiful and seemed smart, cultured and just absolutely perfect in every way.
Suddenly, his musings were interrupted by a loud, boorish voice, “Well that didn’t take too long! I hope she doesn’t get bored of you just as quickly. That would be a pity. Though I really wouldn’t be surprised. Do you think she finds a new idiot every time she switches schools?”
“Sorry? Were you talking to us?” Ambrose queried, incredulous. He looked the newcomer over, trying to remember his name. He was tall, but very scrawny. His cheeks seemed to be naturally chubby, complemented by a mop of blonde hair that only made his face rounder. He had small, blue eyes that were the finishing touch to an overall unfortunate appearance. As if that weren’t enough, Ambrose noticed a sparkling diamond earring embedded in his right ear. It certainly did not suit him. Ambrose looked at Courtney and saw that she was making no effort to hide her distaste.
“Err duh,” Ronald Campbell laughed. It was the most annoying laugh. It sounded like something between a squeal and a hyena’s cackle. It instinctively angered Ambrose. People started to stare at them, curious to see if the mysterious Ambrose d’Artois would be provoked to violence.
“Well in that case, you’d best apologise,” Ambrose demanded, a silent threat carried in a suddenly cold voice. He tried to look Ronald in the eyes, but to his disgust, the idiot couldn’t even hold his gaze for a few seconds.
“How about you take a joke?” Ronald insisted, looking at the mass of people that had begun to surround them.
“I didn’t find it very funny and, clearly, neither did she. What’s your problem? Is this how you introduce yourself to strangers?” Ambrose said, also very keenly aware of the crowd.
“Man, I’m just saying, she hooked up with you a day after having found you passed out on her lawn...” Ronald responded, utterly unaware of the people cringing in second-hand embarassment around him.
Ambrose felt a wave of fury wash over him. He was ready to pound the scrawny little miscreant into a new dimension. Courtney sensed it too. She had seen the same scene play out many times. She fervently wanted to let Ambrose put that idiotic mortal in his place, but it was neither the time nor the place. Quickly, she joined the conversation, putting herself in between the two boys.
“Ronald? That’s your name, yeah?” she asked.
“Your boyfriend needs to learn to take a joke,” Ronald complained.
“Right... so you think disrespecting girls is comedy. Interesting. Remind me, who are you to judge what we do? Is little Ronnie upset that I didn’t choose him instead? Do you really need to ask yourself why?” she chided him, emphasising her final question by very obviously looking him over. People started to giggle.
“Well, that’s a bit harsh don’t you think? I didn’t say anything that bad. Christ, why are you people so sensitive? I actually thought it was pretty funny,” he blustered. He still had not noticed the dozens of dirty looks directed at him by members of the crowd.
“Oh little Ronnie, no one here is stupid. It’s pretty obvious that you’re trying to provoke Ambrose into a fight. Even worse, you genuinely seem to think you could beat him. Look at yourself. Now look at him,” she gestured at each of them in turn, “Don’t make him do something that you’ll regret. Besides, I can already tell you’re the kind of whiny brat who’ll turn around and tell his mummy that the mean kid hurt you for no reason. Please, just stop embarrassing yourself for the sake of everyone here. The cringe is honestly painful.”
Ronald looked around him, moving quickly from face to face, desperately searching for some sign of support. No one would meet his eyes. It dawned on him that maybe he had miscalculated. Maybe people weren’t laughing with him.
“Red doesn’t suit you, little Ronnie. You kinda look like a tomato now. Perhaps you’ve realised that your ‘jokes’ suck?” Ambrose chimed in, taking a savage pleasure in the humiliation of the arrogant fool.
Ronald decided to cut his losses. “Ok, I’m sorry. I was just trying to banter but, clearly, you took it the wrong way. I’m sorry that you took offence. There. Happy?” he vainly extended his hand towards the couple.
His apology was rewarded with cruel contempt, radiating dangerously from their beautiful eyes. Ronald began to get nervous. He had messed up and he knew it. He tried to tell himself that the stupid blonde was lying, just making stuff up to embarrass him. He tried to convince himself that no one else had bought it, but the truth was clear in muffled laughs and amused faces.
“Goodbye little Ronnie, have a nice day,” Courtney said, smiling thinly at him. Ambrose stared at him darkly, still furious at the verbal assault on his girl. They turned away before Ronald could reply, leaving him alone as people dispersed, sensing the end of the impromptu drama. No one wanted to be there to listen to him try to play it off.
He was used to dominating the crowd by shouting everyone else down. That time tested strategy had spectacularly failed him, and in his heart, it stung him to see how easily the crowd had turned against him. Of course, he would never admit that it had happened, not even to himself. The truth was very simple. Ronald Campbell had sent those arrogant new kids running in shame after they attacked him for no reason. They were just insecure. They were probably trying to establish themselves by going after the most popular guy in school. It had really backfired, with everyone seeing just how pathetic they were. He honestly felt sorry for them. Hopefully people would forget about it soon.
For their sake.
***
Two graceful figures sauntered down a winding, grey cobblestone road, watched over by a radiant afternoon sun floating high in the sky above them. Eyes worn with an inexplicable sadness now shone with the wonder of youth. Bliss marked every gentle breath, every elegant stride, every dazzling smile. Their gleeful laughter filled the vast expanse of empty green fields around them. Only they existed in that lovely world of theirs.
Ahead of them, getting gradually closer, was a large, half-timbered cottage. White paint covered the stone in between the heavy pieces of wood that formed the frame of the edifice. Straw had been plastered onto its roof as a finishing touch to a structure that would have been out of place amongst the dense mass of plastic, brick and glass in the centre of Hastings, but added a certain whimsy to the idle charm of the outskirts of the town. A large, wooden sign hung from rusting iron chains over heavy oak doors. Carved into it was the name ‘Alexandria’.
From the first moment that Ambrose had laid eyes on those letters, he had been attracted to the restaurant. The syllables just rolled off his tongue, a hint of glorious days long gone. The food had delivered well on that promise. The succulent treasures of the Mediterranean pampered his palate and enshrined the Alexandria in his fond remembrance. Whoever laboured in its perpetually busy kitchens was a genius, a master of that unique blend of cultural cuisines that surrounded the old “Mare Nostrum”. Only his mother could rival such talent and
even so, doing so would require all of the craft and focus that she had obtained over the years. Its cosy, rustic timber and stone interior was decorated by mellow oil paintings. A simple, iron chandelier hung over the centre of the spacious dining room, lighting up a place usually brimming with the echoes of cheery chatter. The incomparable scent of herbs, spices and slowly roasting meat gently drifted in from the kitchen, preparing guests for the meal to come. That day, the Alexandria would be graced by Courtney Rossborough. Not all of the riches in her fine house came close to the perfection that Ambrose felt in bringing her to his favourite restaurant.
“Hmm... I mean it could have been worse, right? You kinda looked like you were about to redecorate the lockers with his guts,” she laughed, looking at him in mocking reproach.
“Now you’re just being dramatic! I was only gonna break a few limbs at most,” he protested, smiling.
“Oh I suppose that’s alright then isn’t it,” she rolled her eyes, “You don’t ever need to hurt anyone for me.”
“No one disrespects you. I won’t allow it. Ever,” he insisted, his face hardening.
“I know and I love it,” she purred, “but you really don’t have to show me that you can smash every insecure loser that gets in our way. Believe me, I know that you can.”
“It’s not that. I don’t like hurting people, especially not weaklings like Ronnie, and I never have. I wish I could’ve dealt with him like you did, but I don’t know, I couldn’t. I’m sure you’ve heard by now about my accident. I guess my social skills went out the window too. When there’s a threat I just immediately wonder who to smack, you know? God, I must sound psycho, sorry.”
“I don’t think you’ve lost your social skills. I mean you managed to convince my fine self to accompany your fat butt to lunch. Also, when there’s a threat I’m pretty sure it’s pretty natural to want to defend yourself, silly,” she giggled.
“I guess you’re right, and who are you calling fat? I’m actually so insecure about my weight. I’m going to go home and cry all night. All because of you.” He made a show of tensing to show off his muscular frame.
“Sure, drama queen.”
“You know it.” By now, they could smell the delicious odours emanating from the restaurant.
“If that tastes half as good as it smells I think it’ll be worth missing fifth period.” Seeing his surprised expression, she added, “Come on. Did you really think we were ever going to make it back by the time it begins? By the time we finish lunch we’ll be late to sixth.”
“Eh, it’s just English anyways. Useless subject. It’s literally the most boring thing in the world. Books are meant to be enjoyed late at night, not analysed until you wanna burn every copy. Honestly, I could say Arthur Miller wrote ‘Of Mice and Men’ as an analogy for the virtues of capitalism and Mrs. Morgan would buy it.”
“You mean John Steinbeck?”
“Err right, yes. My point still holds.”
“Honestly, I don’t care too much for books at all anyways. What’s the point of reading about the world when you can experience it?”
“What about the things we can’t experience? I doubt we’ll ever meet a hobbit. Or a dragon. Or all those great men and women from history, like say, Augustus Caesar.” Those last words brought her a measure of sombre amusement. He had always loved the “civilisers”.
“Still, I’m pretty happy here and now. That food seriously smells incredible and the place seems really nice.”
“I guess Caesar never got to take you out on a date.”
“Aw, you’re too sweet,” she gushed, squeezing his hand. They arrived at the door. He stood aside to open it and let her through. They were greeted by the host, a gnarled old man dressed in a black suit with perfectly polished shoes to match. He flashed a kindly smile, of the variety that could only belong to a doting grandfather, in their direction as he saw the attractive young couple enter.
“Ah, Mr. d’Artois! I see you’ve got fine company today! How are you, madam? Your friend,” he winked, good-natured mischief glittering in eyes far younger than their owner, “comes here very often. He’s actually one of my favourites.” She smiled at him, shaking his wrinkled hand.
“Thanks, Barry. You’ve got the best place in town, I had to bring her here! Have you got a table for two?” Ambrose asked.
Barry looked confused. “I don’t, but a friend of yours came here a few minutes ago. You know, the red-head. Kind of chubby. Finnegan, is it?” Ambrose nodded. “Well anyways, he came in here and asked for a table for three. He said you’d be coming.”
“For Christ’s sake!” Ambrose exclaimed, looking at Courtney in annoyance. Finn really did go too far sometimes. “Do you have any other tables? Preferably with no creepy, chubby gingers on them?”
“Unfortunately not Mr. d’Artois. To be honest, if your friend hadn’t arrived, you likely wouldn’t have gotten a table at all! We’re always really busy here, you know?” Barry sighed. “Would you still like the table or should I get your buddy on his way?”
Ambrose weighed his options. Lunch with Finnegan being a pain or no lunch at all. He looked at Courtney, “I’m sorry about him. You don’t mind? We can make him feel awkward until he leaves.”
“It’s totally fine. I’m sure he won’t be too mean to you in front of me,” she laughed for his sake, but she was seething on the inside. Finnegan didn’t know when to stop! If he didn’t leave quickly, her first date with Ambrose seemed unlikely to be what she had imagined at all. Was it really too much to ask to have Ambrose to herself for an hour or two? She would just have to smile through it and hope Finnegan tired of third wheeling promptly. On the bright side, it was an excellent excuse not to reveal the truth to Ambrose for the time being. She wanted to think about it more carefully before doing anything hasty.
They followed old Barry into the dining hall, a tranquil, warm place. He pointed them to where Finnegan was waiting, a table near the centre of the room. Ambrose marvelled at his own self-restraint upon seeing the smug look on Finn’s face. He pondered which would feel more satisfying: to burn Finn alive or to drown him in a toilet. The latter was definitely more humiliating but being burnt alive sounded like it would be far more painful. He would decide later, when Courtney was gone. Murderous thoughts aside, Ambrose was not sure of how he would get Finn back, but he vowed that his friend would suffer. Finn had gone too far.
“Hello, Ambrose. How are you? Doing Good? Doing Great? Oh, I’m glad to hear that. Oh yes I am!” Finn crowed triumphantly as they arrived, earning himself a venomous look from his friend.
“Hi Finn,” Ambrose sighed.
“Hey Finn!” Courtney giggled. “We meet again! It’s great to see your natural skin colour. Last time we met you didn’t look so good... a sunburn perhaps?”
“You’re just hilarious, aren’t you? Ambrose definitely got himself a keeper. I heard about how you wrecked that annoying loser, Ronald,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sure people have exaggerated! I just get a teensy bit pissed off when people rudely involve themselves in things that don’t concern them.” She smiled warmly, putting an emphasis on the last few words in the vain hope that Finn would get the message.
“The guy has had it coming for ages to be honest. He’s really the biggest jerk I know. Ambrose, you woulda been totally justified in treating him to a one way trip to pound town. What he said about your new lady just wasn’t right,” Finn opined.
“Believe me, I totally wanted to, Courtney stopped me. Probably for the best. I can totally see him whining to his mummy and screwing me over,” Ambrose grumbled. “I wouldn’t even feel good doing it because he’s just so beneath us, but no one ever talks to her like that.” He looked at her fondly, taking a moment to appreciate the affection in those beautiful sapphire orbs.
“You’re so sweet,” she gushed, squeezing his hand.
“So... do you two wanna sit anytime soon? Ambrose’s fat butt is blocking the waiters,” Finn coarsely interrupted, winking at the waiter
standing patiently behind them. Courtney smiled thinly at him, rolling her eyes. Ambrose quickly moved aside to allow the waiter to pass.
He pulled out a chair for Courtney opposite Finn, earning himself another tender smile as she brushed his hand with hers in recognition of the gesture.
Finn scoffed, “Bent!”
“Finn, wanna tell us about your girlfriend?” Courtney jumped to Ambrose’s defence.
“Yeah Finn, I don’t think I’ve met her in all the time I’ve known you,” Ambrose followed up.
“Why, she’s right over here, I’d say she’s doing just fine,” Finn proclaimed, flaunting his right hand.
“Finn... gross. Come on there’s a girl here.” Ambrose’s face contorted in disgust, but his voice failed to hide a hint of amusement.
“Nah, it’s fine. They seem pretty committed to one another. Like, eternally committed. I don’t think anyone’s ever going to come between them,” Courtney chuckled.
“Uncalled for! You- you’re so mean,” Finn stuttered, faking a sniffle. “I’m going to go home and cry all night, all because of you. Katherine and I love each other very much. There’s no need for mockery,” he continued, unable to hide a smirk.
“Really? You named it?” Ambrose asked, astounded at his friend’s lack of shame.
“Things have officially gotten weird. Let’s keep Katherine above the table from now on, deal?” Courtney said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Finn replied, suddenly feeling more than a little uncomfortable. At the same time, he admired her sharp tongue and strange willingness to join in on their banter when other girls would probably have flipped out. “In all seriousness though, Courtney, you’re actually pretty cool. I don’t know what sorcery this loser used to get with you so quick, but you two are actually amazing together.”
“Oh now look who’s bent!” Ambrose mocked. Finn sighed in response, knowing that he probably should have anticipated that. However, as he looked past his friend, his look of exasperation turned into a wince.
An Immortal Dance Page 7
