Phenomenal

9~ Clown

"What do you want?" Charlotte snapped, glaring at Brett and he ignored her.

"What the hell, Clarissa?" he said, striding forwards until he loomed over the back of the sofa, managing to block out the ceiling lights with his broad shoulders. "You just up and left last night. Do you know how embarrassed I was to say I'd misplaced my date?"

"Well I was tired and bored of waiting for you and your little friends to wrap up their 'business' chat," Clarissa said, turning away and Brett reached around her, catching her wrist and dragging her up from the sofa. "Brett!" she snapped, flushing, "we have a guest!"

"I don't care about your guest," Brett replied, walking into her room and closing the door to block the watching eyes before turning on her. "That chat was import to keep business smooth between our companies, as you well know," he said.

"And since I wasn't involved, there was no reason for me to hang around," Clarissa replied, passing him and throwing open the window.

"The reason for you to stay was I can't be seen to lose my date in front of everyone," Brett said, turning after her.

"I'm not a trophy wife you need to keep hung off your arm and won't move if you drop her until you come back," Clarissa snapped and Brett dropped his head back.

"Not this again," he muttered and looked at her. "Classy, you're not a trophy wife, or girlfriend, or whatever. But that doesn't mean you just wonder off and I'm left looking like an idiot unsure of where you are."

"I like how my disappearance makes you worry about our image rather then my wellbeing," Clarissa said, sitting down on the window seat and crossing her arms and legs.

"Of course I worry about your wellbeing," Brett said, rolling his eyes.

"And you said you'd get me home around nine. Nine pm, Brett. You want to know what time Samantha dropped me off here? After three am."

"Samantha took you home?" Brett said, blinking, before glowering. "Interfering bitch, she didn't even ask me if that was alright."

"Oh I wonder why," Clarissa snarled, yanking his attention back to her, "Perhaps because she only needed my permission to take me home and you didn't even enter into the equation. You lost that honour when you told me I was 'ruining the evening for you' after the fifth round in the boxing match. Ruining the evening? Well excuse me for wanting to be awake for my lectures the next day. It's not like I want to graduate with a First of anything."

"Oh please, you're grades don't actually matter in the long run with the inheritance you're going to come into."

Clarissa's face lost all expression and she just looked at him.

Brett stepped back and held up his hands, quickly.

"I didn't mean anything by that," he said, almost stumbling over his words. "I just... It's not like you need to work in the future. You'll own a fortune. And you'll marry well. A girl like you doesn't need to work."

"Just sit on the shelf and be shiny," Clarissa growled.

"No!" Brett said, "We're going straight back to the damn trophy wife thing. If I wanted one of those there are plenty of girls better suited for the role. But what the hell do I want with a girl I can't hold an intellectual conversation with. I want a girl who stands as my equal and you far surpass that, as you well know."

"Do you even know why I'm irritated at you right now?" Clarissa asked, her voice very, very steady.

Brett just looked at her.

"I'm irritated because you completely dismissed a very simple request yesterday. I set aside my evening plans for your last minute request. I wore a dress I feel overly exposed in because you wanted me to. And I stayed all night because you wanted to show me off. All you had to do, at some point before it got too late, was take me home so I could be fresh and awake for lectures come morning. You did not do this and thus I am irritated. Are you really surprised that I left with Samantha when she offered to take me home? Not only that, it was her date to picked up on the fact that I was tired. If that guy could pick up on my feelings, why didn't you?"

Brett was quiet for a moment.

"It was business, babe," he said, "They needed to come first at that moment and-"

Clarissa stood up and walked past, opening the door, stepping out and pointing down the hall towards the front door.

"I have homework to do and Charlotte has a guest," she said, her tone calm and cool, Charlotte and Damien who'd been chatting quietly looking up when she appeared. "You may leave for the evening and I shall talk to you tomorrow."

"We're not finished, Clarissa," Brett said, irritation harshening his tone.

"Perhaps not, but for tonight, I have business to attend to and that needs to come first."

He glared at her. "What the hell," he snapped, walking as far as the threshold of the bedroom. "This is more important."

"Good evening, Brett," Clarissa said, walking back to her seat on the sofa. Her tea was now a horrible lukewarm and Charlotte held out a hand as she gathered the other teacups.

"Clarissa, don't be so damn difficult," Brett hissed, following her across the room, grabbing her shoulder and the movement before them was so fast they barely saw it happen.

One moment, Damien was sat in his seat, stroking Deacon under the chin and handing Charlotte his cup, the next, he was right next to Brett, a hand locked around his wrist in such a tight wrist, Brett instantly released Clarissa's shoulder.

"You need to stop pushing her around, man," Damien said, his voice low, much lower then Clarissa had yet heard it. His looked down at Brett and there was something... different about his eyes.

Something darker, like he was psyched up by something? The possibility of a fight? Surely not, Damien didn't seem like the aggressive type.

And yet the way he was looking at Brett suggested differently.

Brett stared at him for a moment, his wrist still locked in Damien's grip.

Then he jerked his body back and Damien released him. Brett took one step back and Damien planted himself between Brett and Clarissa, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and leaning back against the back of the sofa, tilting his head slightly as he watched Brett, black hair falling across sharp eyes.

Charlotte stayed where she was, holding the mugs, eyes darting between the two guys.

Clarissa leant to the side, looking past Damien who was blocking Brett's view.

Brett stared at Damien, seemingly captivated by his eyes, before he blinked and his stare turned to a glare.

"We'll talk later," he muttered, rubbing his wrist, backing up, glancing at Damien again. "Damn traveller trash," he muttered and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

The three who remained in the apartment were quiet for a long, long time after that.

"Sorry," Damien finally said, straightening up.

Clarissa looked up at him, then at Charlotte who shrugged. "Why?" she asked.

"For sticking my nose into your business where it probably wasn't welcome," Damien said, clicking his fingers. Deacon joined him instantly and he headed straight for the door. "Good night, girls," he said and he was out of the apartment before either of them could even begin to stop him.

~~~~~~

Next up: Thursday

Art/Music by: Emeli Sande - Clown