Sequel: The Gin House Blues ›
Status: In progress :)
The Shadows' Child
A Question
Liam, like every other sane human being in the world, hated Mondays with a fiery passion and, in that respect, this Monday was no different. The only thing that set this particular day apart in Liam's collection of shitty Mondays was the fact that this one seemed to suck even more spectacularly than normal.
That morning Liam had managed to get the new barista at his usual coffee place and they messed up his order not once, but twice. His first job of the day, a family portrait, was a disaster. The clients turned up forty five minutes late for a start and things got progressively worse from there.
The couple's four year old son kicked over Liam's new light stand, tore down the backdrop sheet and then cried for the remainder of the shoot, which was, apparently, Liam's fault, despite his constant attempts at distraction. At seeing the digital copies on his laptop, the mother had pursed her lips and commented on how a 'proper photographer' would've been able to take a picture without making her child scream his head off. Liam had to bite his tongue very hard at this point, and even harder when they walked out with their (still crying) child and refused to pay, rejecting his offer to retake the portrait whenever their child started acting more like a child and less like a howler monkey.
His first clients' poor time keeping meant that he was already running late to his second appointment and, to make matters worse, the traffic was hellish. He did, however, manage to make it to the Silver Seniors' Annual Charity Craft Fair only ten minutes late. Liam paid dearly for those ten minutes right in the middle of a crocheting demonstration when he was reprimanded by two, deceptively harmless-looking, elderly ladies who had The Guilt Trip down to a fine art.
Things didn't improve much after lunch. He had a commission for a fashion spread from a local magazine but the main model he was meant to be working with went home sick and the magazine had to call in a replacement. Liam spent three quarters of his time trying to get said replacement to position her feet properly; direction which the model felt was unwarranted as she began declaring that she was could not work like this, Liam was smothering her creative vision and where was her agent? Where was that intern? She ordered coffee, like, twenty minutes ago. For the sake of avoiding another tantrum Liam gave up, allowing her to carry on posing with her two feet pointing directly outwards from her body. He just hoped that the magazine's piece didn't focus too much on the shoes.
It didn't help at all, of course, that he'd only gotten about three hours sleep the night before and that any sleep he did get was haunted by disturbed, demented dreams. They'd been getting worse. Though he never said it, for fear it would sound even crazier out loud than in his head, what really freaked Liam out was Ceara's almost constant presence in his nightmares. He’d met the woman once. It wasn't normal, it couldn't be. Maybe it was this line of thought, or his desire to get his mind off the terrible day he'd had, or even some subconscious attempt to convince his brain that Ceara was an unsuitable protagonist for his nightmares. Whatever it was, Liam was once again on the street in front of The Velvet Star two weeks after he'd first gone though its doors.
He entered the shop somehow expecting that it would feel different, but it didn't. There was still that tinkling bell above the door, the smell of incense burning and that lucky waving cat sitting on the counter of the empty shop. The only difference was that instead of the tall, dark haired guy standing behind the counter, it was Ceara who appeared out of the back room and took a seat behind the till. Liam wasn't really sure what he had been waiting for, but it certainly wasn't that swooping sensation in his stomach; nerves, not the good kind either.
Giving himself an inward pep talk, he put on a smile and began walking toward the counter. Ceara looked up sharply from where she had been scribbling dazedly in a little book. Liam forced away the malaise prickling his skin as he met her eyes. She hastily smiled at him and put down her pencil.
“Hello,” Liam said.
“Hi.” She narrowed her eyes, “Tarot reading, wasn't it?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I want to say...Liam?”
“Yeah, that's me. And you're Ceara, right?”
“You got it. So, you back for another?”
“Another what?” Liam's brow furrowed.
“Another reading?”
Liam quickly shook his head. “Oh. No,” he blurted. Too quickly. “I mean-”
“Wasn't really your thing?” Ceara laughed, it wasn't ill-natured.
Liam smiled a little. “Not particularly,” he rubbed the back of his neck and turned his attention to a display of key-rings that had what looked like tiny voodoo dolls attached. “You on your own today?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “Tristan's gone AWOL.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he's been away a lot this past week.”
“Maybe you should talk to him about it,” Liam picked up one of the key-rings and held it up for closer inspection.
“I don't know, he's been...moodier than usual.”
“He seems like the moody type alright,” Tristan commented dryly and without thinking. He stopped examining the little doll abruptly and looked at Ceara, his eyes as wide as saucers.“ I mean,” he blushed and hastily put the key-ring back on the display, “I just mean that-” He stopped suddenly at Ceara's loud laugh.
“It's fine,” she waved a hand at him and giggled quietly. “Heis the moody type, has been in all the time I've known him; and I've known him a long time.” She looked down again at her book, still smiling. Liam caught himself wanting to make her smile again.
“How long have you known him then?”
Ceara glanced up at the ceiling as she considered. “Hmm, must about eighty seven years at this stage?” She smirked, her eyes were twinkling.
Liam laughed. “I guess you do know him pretty well then.”
“I guess so,” Ceara chuckled.
“So you two grew up together?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“That's pretty cool, y'know, that you guys get to work together.”
“It is. We drive each other crazy but hey, what are friends for?”
Liam felt his stomach swoop again, relief? He wasn't sure, but any ill-ease he had been experiencing in Ceara's presence had vanished. “Yeah,” Liam shoved his hands into his pockets, “ I have a friend like that. He's a pain in the ass.”
Ceara smiled. “Do you have to work with him too?”
“Fortunately, no.”
She sighed dramatically. “Then you can never understand my suffering.”
“You poor thing,” Liam snorted.
“I know,” she tapped the end of her pencil against her chin,“but we all have our crosses to bear, I suppose. Mine just happens to be a six foot three, grown man with more teen angst than a Smashing Pumpkins album.”
Liam grinned. “Hey, do you wanna get a drink later?” Wait. Where the Hell did that come from. He glanced away from Ceara's stunned expression all the while cursing his stupid, stupid mouth.
“Um, I don't know...I probably shouldn't.”
Liam looked up, he smiled crookedly. “That's okay.” He scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor.
“It's not you, Liam,” the bell above the door jingled and she lowered her voice, “it's just that I-”
“It's fine,” Liam said. “Seriously, you don't need to explain or anything. It's cool. I'd better get going though. See you around.” With an awkward wave he turned and started towards the door.
“Liam!”
Liam spun round to see Ceara walking towards him. He raised his eyebrows in a way he hoped appeared nonchalant. “Yeah?”
Ceara's brow furrowed as she looked at him, her mouth slightly open, like she was considering something. Then her face cleared.“Okay,” she said quietly.
“Okay?” Liam smiled.
She nodded. “Okay. What time?”
“Seven thirty at Mooney's Bar?”
“Sure.”
“Great.”
Liam grinned and turned to leave, but Ceara's voice held him back one more time. “Oh and, Liam?
“Yeah?”
She tilted her head to the side slightly and raised her eyebrow. “This is not a date.”
“I know.”
She crossed her arms. “Do you?”
“Of course.”
“Good.”
“Fantastic,” he said. Ceara rolled her eyes at him and went to serve the confused looking customer standing at the till.
Liam left The Velvet Star considerably happier than he had previously. He now had a not-date with this awesome girl and it was this and not the small, niggling sensation of dread in the pit of his stomach that he focused as he got into his car and drove home.
That morning Liam had managed to get the new barista at his usual coffee place and they messed up his order not once, but twice. His first job of the day, a family portrait, was a disaster. The clients turned up forty five minutes late for a start and things got progressively worse from there.
The couple's four year old son kicked over Liam's new light stand, tore down the backdrop sheet and then cried for the remainder of the shoot, which was, apparently, Liam's fault, despite his constant attempts at distraction. At seeing the digital copies on his laptop, the mother had pursed her lips and commented on how a 'proper photographer' would've been able to take a picture without making her child scream his head off. Liam had to bite his tongue very hard at this point, and even harder when they walked out with their (still crying) child and refused to pay, rejecting his offer to retake the portrait whenever their child started acting more like a child and less like a howler monkey.
His first clients' poor time keeping meant that he was already running late to his second appointment and, to make matters worse, the traffic was hellish. He did, however, manage to make it to the Silver Seniors' Annual Charity Craft Fair only ten minutes late. Liam paid dearly for those ten minutes right in the middle of a crocheting demonstration when he was reprimanded by two, deceptively harmless-looking, elderly ladies who had The Guilt Trip down to a fine art.
Things didn't improve much after lunch. He had a commission for a fashion spread from a local magazine but the main model he was meant to be working with went home sick and the magazine had to call in a replacement. Liam spent three quarters of his time trying to get said replacement to position her feet properly; direction which the model felt was unwarranted as she began declaring that she was could not work like this, Liam was smothering her creative vision and where was her agent? Where was that intern? She ordered coffee, like, twenty minutes ago. For the sake of avoiding another tantrum Liam gave up, allowing her to carry on posing with her two feet pointing directly outwards from her body. He just hoped that the magazine's piece didn't focus too much on the shoes.
It didn't help at all, of course, that he'd only gotten about three hours sleep the night before and that any sleep he did get was haunted by disturbed, demented dreams. They'd been getting worse. Though he never said it, for fear it would sound even crazier out loud than in his head, what really freaked Liam out was Ceara's almost constant presence in his nightmares. He’d met the woman once. It wasn't normal, it couldn't be. Maybe it was this line of thought, or his desire to get his mind off the terrible day he'd had, or even some subconscious attempt to convince his brain that Ceara was an unsuitable protagonist for his nightmares. Whatever it was, Liam was once again on the street in front of The Velvet Star two weeks after he'd first gone though its doors.
He entered the shop somehow expecting that it would feel different, but it didn't. There was still that tinkling bell above the door, the smell of incense burning and that lucky waving cat sitting on the counter of the empty shop. The only difference was that instead of the tall, dark haired guy standing behind the counter, it was Ceara who appeared out of the back room and took a seat behind the till. Liam wasn't really sure what he had been waiting for, but it certainly wasn't that swooping sensation in his stomach; nerves, not the good kind either.
Giving himself an inward pep talk, he put on a smile and began walking toward the counter. Ceara looked up sharply from where she had been scribbling dazedly in a little book. Liam forced away the malaise prickling his skin as he met her eyes. She hastily smiled at him and put down her pencil.
“Hello,” Liam said.
“Hi.” She narrowed her eyes, “Tarot reading, wasn't it?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I want to say...Liam?”
“Yeah, that's me. And you're Ceara, right?”
“You got it. So, you back for another?”
“Another what?” Liam's brow furrowed.
“Another reading?”
Liam quickly shook his head. “Oh. No,” he blurted. Too quickly. “I mean-”
“Wasn't really your thing?” Ceara laughed, it wasn't ill-natured.
Liam smiled a little. “Not particularly,” he rubbed the back of his neck and turned his attention to a display of key-rings that had what looked like tiny voodoo dolls attached. “You on your own today?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “Tristan's gone AWOL.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he's been away a lot this past week.”
“Maybe you should talk to him about it,” Liam picked up one of the key-rings and held it up for closer inspection.
“I don't know, he's been...moodier than usual.”
“He seems like the moody type alright,” Tristan commented dryly and without thinking. He stopped examining the little doll abruptly and looked at Ceara, his eyes as wide as saucers.“ I mean,” he blushed and hastily put the key-ring back on the display, “I just mean that-” He stopped suddenly at Ceara's loud laugh.
“It's fine,” she waved a hand at him and giggled quietly. “Heis the moody type, has been in all the time I've known him; and I've known him a long time.” She looked down again at her book, still smiling. Liam caught himself wanting to make her smile again.
“How long have you known him then?”
Ceara glanced up at the ceiling as she considered. “Hmm, must about eighty seven years at this stage?” She smirked, her eyes were twinkling.
Liam laughed. “I guess you do know him pretty well then.”
“I guess so,” Ceara chuckled.
“So you two grew up together?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“That's pretty cool, y'know, that you guys get to work together.”
“It is. We drive each other crazy but hey, what are friends for?”
Liam felt his stomach swoop again, relief? He wasn't sure, but any ill-ease he had been experiencing in Ceara's presence had vanished. “Yeah,” Liam shoved his hands into his pockets, “ I have a friend like that. He's a pain in the ass.”
Ceara smiled. “Do you have to work with him too?”
“Fortunately, no.”
She sighed dramatically. “Then you can never understand my suffering.”
“You poor thing,” Liam snorted.
“I know,” she tapped the end of her pencil against her chin,“but we all have our crosses to bear, I suppose. Mine just happens to be a six foot three, grown man with more teen angst than a Smashing Pumpkins album.”
Liam grinned. “Hey, do you wanna get a drink later?” Wait. Where the Hell did that come from. He glanced away from Ceara's stunned expression all the while cursing his stupid, stupid mouth.
“Um, I don't know...I probably shouldn't.”
Liam looked up, he smiled crookedly. “That's okay.” He scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor.
“It's not you, Liam,” the bell above the door jingled and she lowered her voice, “it's just that I-”
“It's fine,” Liam said. “Seriously, you don't need to explain or anything. It's cool. I'd better get going though. See you around.” With an awkward wave he turned and started towards the door.
“Liam!”
Liam spun round to see Ceara walking towards him. He raised his eyebrows in a way he hoped appeared nonchalant. “Yeah?”
Ceara's brow furrowed as she looked at him, her mouth slightly open, like she was considering something. Then her face cleared.“Okay,” she said quietly.
“Okay?” Liam smiled.
She nodded. “Okay. What time?”
“Seven thirty at Mooney's Bar?”
“Sure.”
“Great.”
Liam grinned and turned to leave, but Ceara's voice held him back one more time. “Oh and, Liam?
“Yeah?”
She tilted her head to the side slightly and raised her eyebrow. “This is not a date.”
“I know.”
She crossed her arms. “Do you?”
“Of course.”
“Good.”
“Fantastic,” he said. Ceara rolled her eyes at him and went to serve the confused looking customer standing at the till.
Liam left The Velvet Star considerably happier than he had previously. He now had a not-date with this awesome girl and it was this and not the small, niggling sensation of dread in the pit of his stomach that he focused as he got into his car and drove home.
♠ ♠ ♠
Updating after a week instead of a year is an improvement I guess!The entire story is completely planned now, and in detail, so regular updates are gonna be my thing now (I hope). This chapter gave me one terrible, terrible headache; but the next chapter should be fun.
P.s. Comments cure headaches. :)