The prom was going on without them, the entire class and all the staff looking around confused as they announced the prom king and queen, and neither Diago nor Brittany were there to accept the honor.
***
Diago tried for over 20 minutes to reach his cousin Jake; it was the only safe place he knew. Jake's mansion was in the middle of nowhere, he had no neighbors for miles, they would never be found there and if by some chance they were, he knew with out a doubt, Jake had his back.
Jake was his favorite cousin, he was a loyal, brutally honest, sadistic, overly aggressive, bad ass mutha fucker! And he had every right to be, growing up with the very devil for a father, a man who made Dorian Stone, Diago's father, look like a pussy cat.
Unfortunately for them, Jake wasn't home, and Diago didn't have time to wait around, he only had one night with the enemy of his dreams and time was ticking.
They ended up driving for over an hour, before he finally found 'The Rouge Motel'.
Within that hour they talked about anything and everything, no specific topic, just careful not to mention family, time, or any thing involving the future and/or the past. They talked like two old souls, revealing things to the other, they would not even admit to themselves. They were so absorbed in each other; they were oblivious to the car following carefully behind them.
***
'The Rouge' was owned by Pierre Rouge, a small man with a slight hump, huge bright blue eyes and a wide, ear-to-ear genuinely warm smile. His accent was as thick as the silver grey toupee on his head. He and the love of his life, his wife, Ellie had left France twelve years ago, moved to America to open a fancy French themed hotel and restaurant. He helped build the entire thing with his own hands, his strength and determination forcing his rickety old body to comply. His hard work paid off; it was an instant success, the rooms were decorated in an unusual style, each a whole different theme, elaborate decor, designs with close attention paid to detail. The restaurant served only the finest in French cuisine, but still managed to have a warm, homey feel to it. He had made enough money to live his life comfortably and was more than happy. He and his wife lived in the house outback and they were still in love after 75 years. He believed in love and he believed it was why they had been able to cheat death for so long.
***
Brittany was furious, shaking with rage looking at his car parked at the hotel, watching them walk hand in hand into the hotel office.
"Well Bianca, I guess I'll just have to teach you the hard way not to mess with Brittany Tinsel," she hissed, her tires squealing as she sped off.
***
"We need a room," Diago said, holding Bianca's hand.
"Ahh, newlyweds?" his smile was full of hope.
"No."
"Then you must be recently engaged."
"No." he answered.
"But Pierre knows love and he can feel it when it enters the room," the little man beamed proudly. He turned and grabbed a key with a huge red heart as she and Diago looked at each other smirking at the strange but friendly old man. Diago tried to hand him his credit card.
"No, your money's no good here," he winked "I have the perfect room for you." his smile widened as he walked out from behind the desk, "follow me, if you will." he led them to the elevator.
"I keep a special room for these occasions," he said with a deep smile.
The elevator door opened and a very short man who looked an awful lot like Pierre greeted them with a smile.
"Room Number One," he smiled at the man and the small man smiled back knowingly, both turning to smile at the couple. The elevator door opened and he led them down a short hall to a door with a huge silver one in the middle. He opened the door and they both smiled in awe.
The room was spectacular, like nothing either of them had ever seen. It was huge, dominated by a magnificent cherry wood four-post bed decorated in thick layers of crimson, Bordeaux and garnet. The entire room was done in various shades of red, with splashes of deep plum, dark pink, from the silk sheets, the chiffon fabric draped around the tall bed posts, brightly colored satin pillows scattered all over, and candles in big thick silver candle holders. The walls were the deepest of reds, and the highly polished cherry wood floor was covered in beautifully bright Parisian rugs. The room smelt heavenly, a faint trace of chocolate and berries.
"Enjoy your room and don't forget the chocolate," he pointed over to the pure sliver fondue pot on the matching silver tray with floral cutouts around the edges. They both looked in the direction he pointed. It was just a dreamy, comfy looking little spot, a beautiful crushed crystal end table stood between two antique cherry wood chairs with exotic carvings and scarlet and magenta print satin cushions. Behind it, the huge window with the thick, deep crimson brocade drapes gave a perfect view to the magnificent magnolia tree in the yard.
"Unusual," Diago said after Pierre shut the door.
"But sweet," she smiled back. "Speaking of sweet," she walked over to the table and saw the fondue pot filled with melted milk chocolate, a platter of the largest, reddest strawberries she had ever seen before. "I am addicted to strawberries!" He watched her as she grabbed one, than dipped it in the chocolate, eagerly bringing the juicy berry to her lips, he hardened imagining other things he would have her do with those delicious lips. He walked over to her, standing very close, tracing her lips with his finger. She held the strawberry up to his mouth offering him a bite; he bit into the sweet fruit.
"Taste it with chocolate." she dipped it in the fondue. "It's divine." she purred.
