Written in 69 minutes. Needed that last scene to be perfect.

---

February 2000

Elizabeth spied a familiar figure in the courtyard and beamed. “Penny,” she called to the waitress on the floor. “I’m going to be right back, okay? I have to grab something from the back.”

Penny acknowledged her words with a wave, and Elizabeth dashed back to the employee lockers and reached into her messenger bag for her class portfolio. When she came back to the counter, Jason was just taking a seat, flipping over his coffee cup.

“I’m so glad you came in today,” Elizabeth said, reaching for the carafe to fill the cup with his usual order — plain black. “I had something I wanted to show you, and I didn’t know if I could wait until I went to the garage this week.”

Jason lifted his brows. “Yeah? You finally get a car? I told you—”

“No, I told you—I can take the bus. I’m saving my money for more important things.” She flipped her portfolio open, and set it down in front of him. “Read that.”

Bewildered, Jason picked it and read the feedback evaluation sheet attached to her winter project. “This is exactly what I was looking for all last fall, Miss Webber. You reached down inside the subject and displayed vulnerability and tragedy with a few pencil strokes. It would be my honor to recommend this for display in our spring showcase this May.” His smile was immediate. “The same professor from December?”

“You remembered! I hoped you would. Yeah, you know, you told me to just go ahead and go all in, because, hey she already hated everything I did, so what was the harm?”

“I don’t think those were my exact words,” Jason said, setting the evaluation sheet down and sipping his coffee. “But okay.”

“I paraphrased,” Elizabeth said, taking the portfolio back, hugging it to her chest. “I probably would have kept drawing boring landscapes and portraits for her if you hadn’t said that—”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” Jason said, “and you’re the one that had to do the work.”

“Sometimes a little encouragement makes all the difference—” Elizabeth looked past Jason, her smile a bit smaller. “Hey, Lucky.”

“Hey.” Her boyfriend dropped onto the stool next to Jason. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh. My art project. Jason gave me some good advice at the end of last semester, and well, it’s paying off. My project is going to be in the showcase.” Elizabeth handed him the portfolio and Lucky flipped it open, going past the evaluation sheet to the sketch itself.

It was a simple one, done in colored pencil, not a medium she used often, but it had the rough edges she wanted.

Lucky’s smile faded slightly as he looked at it, then at her. “This…this is the project you turned in?”

Elizabeth tensed. “Yeah, why?”

“It’s the fountain.” He set it down, folded his arms. “From the park.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “Yeah, um, Dr. Watts wanted me to show vulnerability—”

“So you painted that night for a good grade?” Lucky asked. “Down to the shoe?” He shook his head. “You never told me about this. You knew?” he looked at Jason who was doing his best to appear invisible.

“It’s art,” Elizabeth said before Jason could say anything. “And he doesn’t know anything about the subject. And so what if I drew it? It’s mine, isn’t it?” She snatched the portfolio back, staring down at the scene. She’d felt so drained when she’d finished the original sketches for this, but by the time she’d completed the color, and added the details to the broken shoe laying by the stone fountain, she’d felt almost peaceful.

As if painting the worst night of her life had somehow taken some of the power out of it. And now Lucky was making it sound like she’d used that memory for her own gain.

“Yeah, you can do whatever you want. I just—” Lucky shook his head. “Congratulations on getting the showcase. I know it’s what you wanted.”

“Yeah, it’s what I wanted.” Elizabeth closed the portfolio and went to put it back in her bag. When she came back to the counter, Jason had left, leaving a twenty next to his cup. He’d always tipped too generously, but lately it had doubled. Probably trying to convince her to buy a car.

“Since when do you talk to Jason about your art?” Lucky wanted to know. “That’s our thing—”

“It’s my thing, and I can talk to whoever I want about it. I went to the garage the night I got that last project back, but you weren’t there.”

“So you just…told him? Since when are you even friends?”

“We’re—” Elizabeth frowned. “Why do you care? I’m friends with Nikolas, aren’t I? And Jason’s always been nice to me. Because I’m Emily’s friend, probably. He was just humoring me, okay, Lucky? I was upset because it was a bad grade, and he asked. And he probably didn’t even remember talking to me—”

But he had, hadn’t he? Had seemed happy for her? Why was it so difficult for Lucky to do that lately? Everything that had to do with college — he always had to take the fun out of it, to make her feel bad for doing something without him.

“Probably not. He’s got a lot on his plate. And you know, he’s having an affair with my cousin,” Lucky said. “She’s always at the garage—”

“Why is that relevant?” Elizabeth demanded. “Never mind. Never mind. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Me either. Let’s talk about something better. Valentine’s Day is next week,” he reminded her. “I thought we could do something last year. A nice place. I’ll dip into the savings,” he told her. “Some place fancy won’t break the apartment fund, and we should celebrate your showcase thing.”

Elizabeth refilled a sugar canister and decided not to comment on the apartment fund. If he refused to accept that she wasn’t planning on living with him for at least another year, if not longer, than there was no point in having that argument today. “Yeah, that sounds good. Just let me know when and where.”

“It’ll be fun. We don’t get out much, just the two of us,” Lucky said. “But I know you’re working a lot of hours here. I’m glad. I know we argued about the apartment, but I’m okay with waiting until the summer—”

“I’m working a lot of hours here because Emily and I want to go to Florida for spring break,” Elizabeth said, grabbing Jason’s empty coffee cup and dumping it into the green tub for the dish washer. “I know you know about this. We talked about it on New Year’s. And two weeks ago. Emily and I were looking at hotels—”

“Spring break? You’re getting a whole week off and you’re going away? Were you even going to tell me?”

“What—” Elizabeth stared at him. “What is wrong with you? I literally just—we’ve talked about it at least twice. Lucky, this is ridiculous. It’s like you’re a completely different person—what happened? Why can’t you just—” Her eyes stung. “Why are you making me feel guilty every time I do something that has nothing to do with you?”

“Why doesn’t it bother you that I’m included anything? Why didn’t you ask me? We could have done spring break together. We never spend any time together because you’re always busy. You don’t want to live together, you don’t want to spend any time with me—”

“Not when every time I see you, it turns into another list of everything I’m doing wrong.”

“I have to get to work. I’ll call you about next week,” Lucky muttered. He slid off the stool, and left. Elizabeth made a face, watched him go.

——

Jason did his best to be underneath a car and incommunicado before Lucky got to work, but a customer came in, distracted him.  The younger man stomped past them, heading for the office.

When the customer left, Lucky came out of the office, his eyes hot. “I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing with my girlfriend.”

Jason stared at him, then looked behind him because there was no way this little idiot was talking to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Since when you do talk to Elizabeth? Since when do you know things about her that I don’t?” Lucky demanded.  “I’m the one that talks to her about her art—”

“Okay, we’re not doing this,” Jason interrupted. “I like you, Lucky, and I’ve known you a long time, but you’re out of line. With me, and with Elizabeth. The only reason I know anything about her art project is you didn’t tell her you’d be out of town. She came down here, she was crying, and it was too cold to make her wait for the bus. So, yeah, I asked her if she was okay. Do you have a problem with that? Because there’s the door—” he added, jabbing a finger towards the exit.

Lucky grimaced. “I did tell her. She just doesn’t listen—she never listens. It’s just like when she moved town,” he said suddenly. “She was a selfish, self-centered brat who didn’t care about anyone but herself. And I thought she’d changed. That she grew up. But now all she worries about is what she wants.”

Jason opened his mouth, mystified because everything encounter he’d had with Elizabeth Webber for the last six months had been directly the opposite. Worrying about Emily’s feelings, about Lucky’s, about everyone except for herself. But if he said that, this would keep being an argument and he did not want to be in middle of any of it.  “Then you take that up with her. Not with me.”

“Fine. Fine.” Lucky dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not interested in her. I know that. I just—she’s driving me crazy. Maybe I need a change of scenery. I know you said things were slow right now, but there has to be something I can do for you and Sonny. Sometimes that might take me out of town for a few days to clear my head.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll call him. You could always do the Puerto Rico run next week,” Jason said, heading for the car on the lift. “An you wait that long?”

“Next week? Yeah. That’d be good. Perfect. Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” Jason said, already dismissing the whole thing.

—

Emily rolled over on her bed, and leaned up on her elbows. “Honestly, what is his damage lately? He’s been ticked at me, too. First because of Juan — and he’s just mad because Juan’s basically perfect, and he can’t complain about him without sounding like an idiot—”

“Doesn’t seem to be a problem for him,” Elizabeth muttered, sorting through her clothes.

“And then he’s mad at me because I asked you to room with me and had my grandfather pull strings to get you in free of cost. Listen, if I can’t use being a Quartermaine for my advantage, what’s the point?” Emily sat up, crossed her legs. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking about what to wear next week for Valentine’s Day. He wants to take me some place nice. It might be good for us,” Elizabeth admitted. “I mean, he’s right. I’m not really prioritizing him. You know, maybe we should just pick a night every week and make it date night, you know?” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “And I didn’t tell him how that art project turned out. When I got my project back, I thought about telling your brother because, like, he gave me the push I needed. I should have told Lucky—”

“You think a date night is going to fix any of that?” Emily asked dubiously. “I think maybe not.”

“Not just a date night.” Elizabeth came out of the closet with a dress, held it against her. “I think maybe Lucky’s pushing for us to live together because…well, he won’t say it. But he’s waited a long time, you know? And we haven’t—” Her cheeks flushed. “We haven’t.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re not ready,” Emily said. “I’m not either, and I told Juan, we can do stuff, but not that. Not yet. I only get one first—” She cut off. “Um—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say that. Lucky and I don’t even do stuff,” Elizabeth admitted. “Nothing under the shirt. Or really over it,” she added. “He doesn’t push, and I haven’t really…sent any signals. But I think it might help. To get us back to where we used to be. We were so close, you know? Like one person—”

“But you’re not one person. You’re you, and you’re in college, and you get to be your own person. He chose not to come here with us this year, that’s not on you. I think he’s just mad that you’ve got your own thing going on here. With me, and the classes, and the art thing. He’s not part of it, and he’s never had to work at being the center of attention with you. You didn’t…”

“I didn’t have anything else,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I made Lucky my whole world, and now I don’t need to do that. We need to find a new balance. I love him, Emily. I want him to be happy. So maybe I should—maybe I should push myself. It’s Lucky. I know he won’t hurt me.”

“If you’re sure,” Emily said.

“I am. And we’re going shopping, because I want to look perfect.” Elizabeth sat on the bed next to her. “I can dip into spring break savings for this. It needs to be special. I want Lucky to know how much I love him.”

—

Jason slid out from under the car, then headed for the sink to wash the grease and oil from his hands and beneath his fingernails. He was using a scrub brush on the latter task when he heard the outside door open. “We’re closed,” he called, concentrating on the nails. “If it’s an emergency, it’ll be—” He trailed off when Elizabeth came around the corner, wearing her white winter coat. Her hair was gathered on her head, with loose pieces hanging down, and her make up was darker than normal—her eyes and lips.

She licked those ruby red lips now, looked around, then sighed. “He’s not here, is he?”

Jason set the scrub brush aside. “Lucky?”

“I think I knew it when I sat in the lobby of our dorm.” Elizabeth shook her head. “But I thought — maybe I got the plans mixed up. Maybe I was supposed to meet him here, right? Closer to downtown and restaurants. But no, he’s just not here. Did he say where he was going? Maybe I missed—”

That rat bastard, Jason thought, dimly thinking of the date he’d scrawled on the invoice. Valentine’s Day. “You had plans with him, tonight?” he asked carefully. He reached for the towel to dry his hands and forearms. “When did you …when did he make them?”

“He left a message on the phone at the dorm Saturday morning, and I left a message for him when I got it—” She frowned. “Why?”

“Because Lucky flew down to Puerto Rico Saturday afternoon,” he said slowly, deciding that when the kid came back, Jason was going to rip out his throat. “I’m sorry—”

“Puerto Rico? Was it an emergency or something?” Elizabeth asked. “He didn’t leave a message for me or anything?”

“No. No.” He’d asked for the damn job, hadn’t he? Hadn’t balked when Jason gave him the dates.

“Not a last minute thing, then. He knew on Saturday morning he wasn’t going to be here tonight.” Elizabeth exhaled slowly, dipped her head down, and Jason knew from the way her voice trembled that she was likely close to tears. She closed her eyes. “Can I—I need to sit down.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah—” Jason came forward, found one of the stools and made sure the top was clean. He nearly touched her elbow, to guide her, then remembered he hadn’t finished cleaning under his nails. “I’m sorry—”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said, looking up at him, with a smile even though tears were clinging to her lashes. “I always seem to show up here and ruin your night, huh? It’s kind of turning into our thing.” She used the tip of her index finger to carefully flick away an errant tear. “God. This is so exhausting. I just need a minute, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said. He found another stool, sat across from her. “You can be mad.”

“I’m sure I will be. Especially—” She stood back up, unbuttoned her jacket and tossed it aside. Beneath it, she wore a blue dress made of material that looked slippery. It was strapless, curving in at the bodice and fell to her knees.  “When I get my credit card statement for this because I already took off the tags? I’m pretty sure I’m going to be furious.”

She dropped back to her stool. “But right now, I just—of all the nights to pull this kind of stunt—to make me come all the way down here—to tell me he was taking me to a fancy, expensive restaurant so I’d dress up and spend all day on my hair and makeup so he’d be proud to sit with me—and he knew the whole time he was going to do this.”

Elizabeth stared down at her nails. “Tonight. Of all nights,” she said. “He did this to me. As if I don’t have a reason to already hate Valentine’s Day, he has to add this to the list. Why?” She looked at him. “What did I do wrong?”

“I don’t think I can answer that,” Jason said, even though he wanted to tell her nothing. Because nothing was worth this kind of punishment, and he was almost positive that this was entirely Lucky’s fault. “I’ll —”

“Drive me home? Yeah. Why not. Why even bother to argue about the bus? Right?” She rose, reached for the jacket she’d discarded, then paused. “You know the project I turned in? The one that my professor said showed vulnerability?”

He had the distinct feeling he was not going to enjoy where this conversation would go. “Yeah—”

“I didn’t show you the finished sketch.” She wasn’t looking at him now — she facing away, her back straight, her shoulders tense. “You said you had trouble with them, and it wasn’t important anyway. But Lucky didn’t like that I’d made it into a grade.”

“I remember.”

“It was Valentine’s Day. Two years ago. The fountain in the park. The stone one with the benches. Do you know it?”

“Elizabeth—”

“It’s a winter scene. Everything is dead. Grays, whites, blacks, browns. There’s almost no color in it. Except for a red shoe. The strap was broken.  I had a jacket, but I don’t know what happened to it. I never did.” She turned to look at him now, her face white but there no tears now. “Lucky found me that night, crawling out the snow. Broken. Dirty, bruised. A trembling mess. He brought me home, and he made me feel safe. And last year, on this day, he tried to give it back to me. He told he’d love me forever.” She picked up her jacket, drew it on. “I’m not sure I like what his idea of love looks like anymore.”

He knew what night she was talking about — Emily had mentioned it, Lucky had brought it up. But listening to her recount the barest of details about it — the way it had looked that night, how she’d felt afterwards — his skin felt cold and hot all at once, and he knew those sensations were coming from inside him — he didn’t feel surface temperatures that well.

“I’m sorry,” Jason said. “That Lucky did this.”

“Me, too.” Elizabeth bit her lip, and some of the life came back into her eyes. “And I’m sorry I made it your problem—”

“It’s not a problem,” Jason said. He picked up his keys, found his jacket. “And even if it was, Lucky created it. Not you. You did nothing wrong, you know that, don’t you?”

“I—”

“Whatever he tells you is the reason he did this to you tonight, it won’t be good enough,” he said, and she closed her mouth. “He knew you’d get dressed up, probably knew you’d buy something. And he probably knew you’d wait for him for a long time. Maybe he didn’t think you’d come all the way down here. He wanted you to feel this way, Elizabeth. So when you find the anger he deserves, I want you to remember that.”

“I will.” She smiled faintly. “Thank you. We’re making this a bad habit, aren’t we?”

He led her to the door, held it open. “Careful, the cement is slippery, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t mind driving you home. And there are worst things in the world than spending a few minutes every once in a while talking with a friend.”

He opened the SUV door for her, and she looked at him. “We’re friends, huh? I’m not just your little sister’s best friend?”

“No,” Jason said. “You’re not.”

← Flash Fiction: Warning Shots – Part 3 | Flash Fiction: Warning Shots – Part 5 →