White Lies

Fairest of Them All

"Everything's fine here, Red. Just relax," Peter hears Daisy say on the phone. He's found out that Wolfe Wainright, Billionaire tycoon and the as$hole who stole Red from him, has taken her to Europe to propose to her. And she accepted.

Daisy is right. He needs to move on, but how to go about it is completely unknown to him. He has returned to the bar every night for the rest of that week, drowning his misery. And deep down, hoping to see Bee again, although he will never admit it. She didn't strike him as a partier, a drinker or a one-night stand kind of girl. He knows this to be true regardless of how she acted around him. It would be a miracle to see her back at that bar again. If only he asked for her number, or even her last name.

"I'll pass you to him. Hold on." Daisy hands the receiver to Peter.

The black item feels heavy in his trembling hand. He eyes Daisy, making sure she can't see what his nerves are doing to him.

"Peter?" He can hear Red's distant voice on the other line.

Daisy mutters, "Talk to her, idiot."

Peter shakes his head, clearing his mind of cobwebs and desires. "Yeah," says in a gruff tone.

"Hey, how's it going?" With the lightness in her voice, he can tell Red is happy, ecstatic. "You holding down the fort there?"

"Yeah."

He can almost see the twinkle in her green eyes. "I can't thank you enough." She pauses. "I know things aren't ideal for you, but you have to know how much you mean to me."

Why couldn't she have had this conversation with him before she left? Oh, that's right. Mr Moneybags just whisked her away in his fancy as$ jet and propose with undoubtedly the biggest diamond in the world, something so clunky and hideously in the price tag of more than what he earns in a year.

"Things are good here. You've got nothing to worry about." He chews on the inside of his mouth to stop himself from yelling.

"Well, thank you. I really do appreciate everything you've done for me," Red's sweet voice digs a hole in his already broken heart.

He gazes up to Daisy, who has been leering at him. "I better get going. Got a client." Before he can hear Red say good bye, he hands the phone back to Daisy, and exits Red's office, located in the back of the studio.

It's almost midnight and the studio continues to be busy, with buzzing sounds of tattoo implements, and chatter between artists and clients. Peter wonders what Red plans to do to the studio once she marries the billionaire. He'd like to continue working in it. If possible, he wants to buy the business from Red. Surely, Moneybags would convince her that she's not have to bother with work. She'll be a woman of leisure, a trophy wife. But she'll be bored as hell.

His eyes flicker to the front of the studio where his next client awaited. With a deep breath to control his angst, he calls his client up and asks him to follow into one of the private rooms. At least his work will make him forget about Red, or any woman who intends to enter his mind.
****

"Come on in." The man is friendly enough. Handsome, tall, and well-dressed. "You're Blanche Lee?"

"Yes." She stands by the doorway.

The man scratches his head before picking up a pile of folders off a chair across a desk. "I guess you can sit here. Sorry, I thought these would be cleared by now." He looks at her again, then stretches his hand, shaking his head as though he thinks he has forgotten his manners. "I'm Jason H. Peters."

"Pleasure to meet you. What does the H stand for?" Blanche tilts her head to one side, finds it odd a grown man goes by his first initial.

Jason Peters' smile broadens. "It's Horace. It used to be my first name. I had it legally switched. I couldn't quite get rid of it as it was my great grandfather's name. Yeah, my parents were cruel to me." His laughter fills the room and it relaxes Blanche, but only a little. "You can imagine the name-calling in grade school."