a pair of young lovers leave their criminal past behind to start life anew in a ghost town and are reunited with the unresolved demons that compromise the love affair they chose over everything.
*cover by me
if this is moving slow for anybody I apologize but it does take a little time to build up the suspense for a story. if you like TEA, you will like this chapter. lots of backstory. pls comment.
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The distinctly European spirit of Archangel was deeply rooted in francophilia. Everything from the architecture to the food to the jagged harmonies of Cajun and Creole accents of the city's occupants.
Amoret found comfort in just how unfamiliar the cadence of Archangel was. Familiarity was always a bitter taste for him. His past had been so brutal all he could even think of was the flexibility of the future. The blankness of inevitable time. Old folks always did say time healed all wounds but Amoret didn't dare cry over permanent scars.
He and Golnar spent over a week cooped up in their beloved abode, adjusting and altering their long term living space. Golnar took pleasure in painting every room a different color. Together they painted the living room emerald, a brilliant shade of green that complimented the mahogany floor. Then they painted the guest bedrooms in pastel colors, and their own bedroom in a warm, sensuous plum. They agreed that it was a romantic color. One afternoon after painting, hanging curtains and laying rugs, Golnar passed out from the exhaustion of working all day. Amoret snickered to himself, remembering how high strung she was while painting, clearly to the point of overworking herself. He whisked her into his arms and laid her in their bedroom, horizontal upon the new plush bedding. A circular bed for a circular room.
He left the door slightly ajar and decided to play a little music when he returned to the living room. He boiled water for coffee and thought about his current situation. Giving Golnar and himself the luxury of social detachment was priceless. She had know very little peace since he'd known her and he knew he owed it to her for all her loyalty and unconditional support. She was the kind of woman who provoked negative emotions in others by doing nothing at all. There was so much dignity about her that it was often misconstrued as arrogance. In crowds of insecure, disingenuous and uncertain women, she was a lone wolf; confident, composed and decisive. She held her head high regardless of her circumstances and he admired it. It was so unique and sexy to him, the way she seemed so superior and unattainable. The only issue that came with that was how she struggled to open herself up emotionally. She never voiced her feelings, and in the past that had been a major obstacle for them. Now he finally had her all to himself and he would pick her brain relentlessly until her had all her affections naked and in his possession. All to himself! Being unfettered by the opinions and influence of others would do them a lot of good.
Despite his ideals of isolation, he reached down into the pocket of his baggy sweats and pulled out the cell phone he hadn't checked since they got to Archangel. With a weary sigh he thumbed the power button until it lit up.
Forty-one missed calls. Thirty-four unopened texts. His stomach lurched with sudden pressure. Thirty-two of the missed calls and sixteen of the unopened texts were from Kitana. He frowned and his posture tightened. Kitana was the last person he wanted to hear from. The rest of the calls and texts were from Deuce, Mecca, and Renegade, his workers slash homies. Some he trusted more than others.
