Continued from Guest Pass:
Daphne sipped at the water-downed vodka and watched the bustle of activity around him, wondering, not for the first time, who was being offered a guest pass now.
She wasn’t aware of her own staring until he turned his head turned and held her gaze. Daphne’s initial reaction was to simply lower her eyes and clutch the glass to her chest but, dammit, she needed a refill.
Turning around she made her way back to the bar, while she tried to ignore the heat of his anger as it licked at the back of her bare legs. She set the tumbler on the mahogany and smiled at the bartender.
The bartender flashed a mouth of white teeth, “a refill for the lady?”
“Please.” she answered, coloring creeping into her cheeks.
These were labels that others affixed to you; you’d never introduce yourself as ‘his mistress’ or ‘Hi, I’m Daphne, the slut’.
You were none of those things until someone said you were.
“Did you enjoy the last one?” the bartender asked as he slid a new tumbler toward her, stacked ice making room for the blue concoction. His hair was the color of Jersey shore sand and cut short, with just enough at the top to run a hand through.
“I did…” she answered and spun around before she encouraged the flirting. When she did her lover (or ex- lover, for what it was worth now) had crossed the banquet hall and was standing right next to her, a tall beer glass filled with amber ale in his hand and a scowl on his face.
“Daphne…” he said with enough venom in his voice to belie the weak smile that had replaced the scowl to appease his audience, “what the fuck are you doing here?” he said out of the corner of his mouth. He didn’t touch her, he didn’t dare because they both knew that if he did there would be an explosion of emotions; those things they say about the line between love and hate being incredibly thin were never more true than when their paths crossed.
She blanched at the anger.
“I was invited.” She whimpered as she sipped and tried desperately to rid her eyes of the tears she felt filling them.
“You don’t belong here.” He hissed.
“I, I… used to.” Daphne stammered, allowing her eyes to meet his for a moment and then lower again.
“I thought I made myself clear.” He lectured, as he normally did, his way was the right way. Always.
“When was that?” she said, rallying and allowing anger to guide her instead of the guilt he desperately wanted her to feel. “Was it when you told me you loved me every day for two years or was it when you decided over the course of twenty-four hours that we were done without thinking of me?”
The blood left his face, “Daphne…”
“I’ve abided by your rules so you don’t get to tell me where I can go or what I can do anymore.”
He chuckled, the sound intimidating and disappointed, “you certainly have become a little bitch.”
Daphne tried to swallow the words; they burned going down, even more than the vodka chasing them but finally, tentatively and with as much dignity as she could summon she touched his wrist.
“No, No. I am exactly what you’ve made me.”
(my new home, did you hear I’m an Assistant Editor now!!)
I’d love for you to come over and WRITE WITH and FOR Us during the weekly prompts, we are an amazing community of writers!
this week, there were two prompts, one was a picture and one was this quote:
I immediately thought of Daphne from Guest Pass.
HAPPY WEEK/HAPPY WRITING