Tuesday, March 29, 2016

The Colors of Hate – 1

Part 1 - Green
“If you value your life keep your hands off,” Dean growled.
Carrie arched an eyebrow as she circled the mannequin. “You’re going to have to let me try it on sometime, so why not now?”
“I’m pissed at you.”
 “Why? Because I wanted you to come to the party with us?”
“She was just trying to help,” Carrie’s boyfriend Jim said, trying to defuse the situation before it turned serious between the brother and sister. It always struck him, when he saw them together, how different they were. Carrie was small, slender and blonde. Dean was just over six foot, muscular without being bulky. He had brown hair which often seemed to be just on the verge of too long, high cheekbones as compared to Carrie’s softer features, and blue eyes while Carrie’s were golden-brown.  
“Well she’s got to stop ‘helping’. I’m not looking for anyone. I don’t have the time or, to be honest, the interest in going to parties so that I can meet someone. Besides, you didn’t just want me to go, you practically dragged me there.”
“Kicking and screaming the whole way.” Carrie patted Dean’s arm. “I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”
“Promise. Now can I try on the dress?”
“Yes.” Dean took the costume off the mannequin and handed it to her. “You might as well try yours on too, Jim, since you’re here,” Dean added, pointing to the tunic hanging on the rack along one wall of the costume shop.
“You know she’s not really going to stop trying. Sisters are like that.”
Dean nodded. “I know, but maybe she’ll back off some. Honestly I don’t have an interest in hooking up with someone. I’m happily single.”
“Nuh uh,” Carrie called out from the dressing room.
“Uh huh, so back off, brat.”
Jim chuckled as he headed to the other dressing room. “Good luck on that.” 
A few moments later Carrie came back, beaming. “This is absolutely perfect!” she said, twirling around in front of the full-length mirror. “Angela is going to be livid.”
“Speaking of someone I am so not interested in, she’s on the top of the list. I don’t care if she is the star of this show, that doesn’t give her the right to come on to me every damned time she has a fitting.”
“Well,” Carrie said softly after checking to make certain Jim was still in the dressing room, “if you’d just come out and admit you don’t like women that way, she might back off. I mean it’s not like you’re in a business where anyone gives a damn.”
“We’ve had this discussion before and you know why I don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Jim asked as he joined them.
“Whoa,” Carrie exclaimed. “If that was any shorter…” She waggled a finger at Dean. “Is that really legit?”
Dean laughed. “It is, and he’ll be wearing tights and a dance belt so quit worrying. After all Lancelot is supposed to be sexy to contrast with Arthur.”
“Better not be too sexy,” Carrie grumbled. “I don’t want Angela trying to get her hooks into you again.”
“Not likely. She may make a good Guinevere but you, my dear, are a striking Morgan. I’d never look anywhere but at you.”
Carrie smiled and kissed his cheek. “That was terribly romantic.”
“Okay you two, don’t forget I’m standing right here,” Dean muttered.  
“So go…sew something,” Carrie told him with a laugh.
“I will, as soon as you get out of that dress.” Dean paused then laughed too. “In the dressing room, without his helping you.”
“Spoil sport,” Carrie muttered before she kissed Jim quickly and went to change.

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