Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  Shaking his head, he rubbed his forehead with his long fingers. “No. I’m fine. A little tired, but I think the fresh air is the best thing for me. He glanced up and tapped his phone screen without looking at it.

  “The temperature is forty-two degrees,” a computer-generated feminine voice stated.

  “Okay, maybe the minuscule amount of sun and the heater will be the best thing for me,” he joked, his lips pulling up in the corners to form a smile. It wasn’t as bright as the one on Saturday, but it was still brilliant and had me desiring to kiss his mouth.

  No. I couldn’t go there with him. Even if I somehow convinced myself to leave him alone and not follow through with the plan, we were from two different worlds. And as of right now, I didn’t know what I would be doing to him. Fuck, I was confused.

  Clearing my throat, I turned away to stare out the windshield. “What are we doing today?”

  “Do you like Greek?”

  I jerked my head around to stare at him. Could he read my mind? It was one of my favorite foods, and some of my favorites had been found in this little restaurant I found in Athens, Greece when I was there on business the previous year. “I love Greek.”

  “Excellent. I’m taking you to my favorite restaurant. The food there reminds me of the stuff I got when I did a tour of Greece after I graduated from college.” His smile grew, and he rubbed his hands together as if plotting something.

  I couldn’t hold back, I chuckled. He looked like he just won the World Cup or something. “I can’t wait.”

  There was a brief lull in the conversation after that, and to fill the silence, I asked, “What do you mean by toured Greece?” If I allowed it to remain quiet, I was afraid of where my own thoughts would lead me.

  “Yes, the trip was my graduation present from my parents. They asked where I’d like to go, and I said the first thing that came to mind.”

  “Greece was the first thing that came to mind?” I had to fight the urge to laugh again because he looked so serious.

  “Yeah, that was the same reaction my parents had. I’ve always loved history and had just subjected Fizz to watching a documentary about the Parthenon and another one about the different Greek gods. When they called and asked, it was fresh on my mind.”

  “And how was it?”

  He bit his bottom lip, his grin still firmly in place. “Breathtaking. I went to Athens, Larissa, all of Crete, Nafplio, Thessaloniki, and a few other places. Basically, the whole country. It took us two months.”

  Fizz corrected him, “Three. You decided that you wanted to stay in Fira, Santorini for a month.”

  “True, but that’s where we ended our trip, so that doesn’t count,” Max countered before facing me again and ignoring Fizz. “When I got to Santorini, I stood there in the harbor in awe. We stayed there a month because I don’t think I’d ever felt as at peace as I did at that moment. I spent a couple of days in Oia before moving to Fira, and that’s where we wound up living for a month.”

  “It’s gorgeous there.” I completely understood what he was talking about. Something about the small island stole your breath and melted stress.

  “You’ve been?”

  Nodding, I told him, “I have. I deal in rare books and was called to Athens by a client to examine a first edition copy of First Folio by William Shakespeare. I’ve had three clients call me about this particular book since I’ve been in business. This was the fourth. Of these four, only one was real. Luckily, this client had a genuine copy. After he paid me my fee and a handsome bonus, I decided it would be a waste to go all the way there and not take in a few sights. I spent a couple of days in Athens then moved to Santorini, where Fira was also my favorite out of the two cities. From there, I went to Crete to see the Minoan artifacts in Heraklion then back to Athens to return home. Sadly, I could only spend a few days in each city. I hope to return one day.”

  Max dipped and lifted his head once. “Me too.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

  My body began to lean toward him, my eyes focused on his mouth when I caught myself, I shifted in my seat and forced myself to stare out the window. “Where are we?”

  “It’s going to take a little time to get there. It’s only in Aurora, not that far out of the city, but in the opposite direction of where your aunt’s house is.”

  “Your parents are over there too.”

  “They are.”

  “What is the name of the restaurant?”

  “Basils. Some believe it’s named after an herb, but it means—”

  Looking at him, I cut him off, “Regal, royal, or kingly. From the Greek basileus.”

  He grinned. “Yeah.”

  Our eyes were locked together, and I couldn’t break the connection that crackled between us. I didn’t know if I wanted to break it. This man was turning my life topsy-turvy, and I wanted to hate him for it, yet I found myself falling further down the hole.

  Max

  I’d been a basket case ever since this morning, unaware of what was happening around me, allowing Fizz to take control and do everything. Until Lorde spoke, I’d been locked away in my own little world. Someone had infiltrated my “fortress of solitude” and thrown me for a loop, knocking me on my ass. I didn’t know how to process it. Never before had I suffered so extreme a reaction to anyone. Sure, Lorde’s aunt gave me an eerie feeling, but this morning, alarm bells were clanging and the swan trapped inside me begged me to flee quickly, to get as far away from the woman as possible.

  Our gazes still locked, I lifted my hand to his hair and pulled out a piece of white fuzz. He flinched, and the spell we were under broke. “Lint,” I said, my voice coming out tight and breathless.

  One side of Lorde’s lips lifted in a half-smile, and he laughed nervously. “Oh.”

  We were reduced to single-syllable words, one-word sentences. Around him, I lost myself, or maybe I’d finally found myself. Unlike his aunt, a strange sort of peace fell upon me like a mantle whenever he was near. But it was more than that. My heart thumped louder and harder than before, my pulse thrummed and raced, and I felt a wonderful kind of warmth envelop me. It was a whole new experience.

  What did it mean? I didn’t understand why he was different, or what made him special compared with everyone else I’d met in my life. He just was.

  “Um…” I tried to wrack my brain to think of something to say. Almost desperately, I blurted, "Lorde is an interesting name. Were you named after someone?” Inwardly, I facepalmed and groaned. How idiotic could I sound? The answer was very.

  He blinked a couple of times, his eyes moving left and right before returning to me, as if he couldn’t believe I asked that question. “No, I wasn’t. My mom apparently did some research on German names and found it. I suppose she decided she liked it well enough and named me Lorde.”

  “You suppose?” That was an odd way to word it.

  “Yes.” He settled back and faced forward again. “My mother expected a girl. When I came out, she hadn’t chosen a name and couldn’t figure out what to call me.”

  “Wow. Were you difficult during the ultrasound?”

  He squirmed in his seat before resting his elbow on the door handle. His shoulders were tense, his back straight even as he leaned slightly. “Actually, my mom went the more holistic approach like many in my family. She didn’t have one and gave birth at home.”

  I wasn’t sure why that would make him feel uncomfortable. There were plenty of people who preferred the holistic approach to medicine unless absolutely necessary they seek out modern medicine. “Interesting. I was born at home, too.”

  “You were?” His voice was clipped, and he sounded uninterested as if he was simply humoring me.

  “I was, but my mom had a sonogram. My grandmother was a midwife, and she had one of those portable machines. She’s also the one who delivered me.” It was true. My parents were too afraid something might show up on the imaging they could not explain. Unlike my parents, my grandparents thought differently. More than once, t
hey tried to tell my parents everything would be fine. Mom and Dad wouldn’t listen, choosing to err on the side of caution.

  Lorde snorted, yet when I glanced at him, I noticed a small smile. “Were you named after someone?” he asked.

  Chuckling, I bit my lip and shook my head, not that he could see. “No, I was named after an evil robot.”

  His head whipped around so quickly, I thought I heard it pop. “Pardon?”

  “Sad but true,” I guffawed at his reaction. “Mom was watching The Black Hole when she was pregnant and loved the name Maximillian. Many would like to think that it was because it’s strong or whatever, but nope. An evil robot. As you can imagine, hardly anyone knows the truth. When I pointed out she named me after a bad guy, she just shrugged.”

  “Are you serious?” he chuckled and looked horrified at the same time.

  “Very. She told me it was up to me to rise above my namesake and do right by people, to choose my destiny and not allow my name to pick it for me. Or something like that. I began to tune out because that particular lecture lasted a good thirty minutes.”

  If I hadn’t been staring at him, I might have missed this way his mouth tightened, his smile becoming more of a grimace, and the slight narrowing of his stunningly dark eyes. What had I said to flip the switch? Was it talking about our names? Yes, he had been standoffish since I asked about the origin of his name, but did that warrant such a one-eighty?

  I tilted my head from side to side to relieve some of the pressure building in my neck. Nothing was going right. I wanted to impress him, to get to know him a little, and I was bombing spectacularly. Inhaling a deep breath, I released it slowly through my nose and peered out the window to see how close we were, shocked to find we were at a standstill on the highway. I could have sworn the landscape was flying past us this whole time, only it wasn’t, and we were still a ways from Aurora. Fuck. My. Life.

  Clenching my jaw, I quietly sighed, leaned my head back to stare out the sunroof, and opened my mouth to speak.

  He did as well.

  “I’m sorry,” I told him at the same time he said, “I apologize.”

  Our eyes met again, and we laughed. The tension threatening to drown us a minute ago had backed off, hanging on the edges to see what would happen. It wasn’t gone completely. After the awkwardness we just shared, I didn’t expect it to be; however, it had decreased and allowed us to breathe without choking. Not that I wouldn’t mind choking on… I really needed to extract my mind from the gutter and not think about his dick or any other part of his anatomy.

  “Please.” He gestured with his hand for me to speak first.

  I swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m not really a people person. I mean, I know how to talk to people, but people who I’m interested in…actually, I haven’t really ever been interested in anyone…” I snapped my mouth shut, mortified I had word vomited like that. My speech teacher in college would denounce me as one of his students. Hell, I was denouncing myself. I was always, always calm, cool, and collected; able to give speeches, schmooze, and converse with anyone from children to the elderly. Today, I’d lost all ability to hold a normal conversation. Could a person burrow underground like a mole? If possible, I would do it right now. Did embarrassment kill? Maybe I should shift and fly away. Swans didn’t like cold, but the North Pole seemed awfully tempting. “Shoot me now,” I groaned, sinking lower in my seat, unable to look at him.

  “But I don’t have a pistol and am not certain where to get one.”

  I darted my gaze to him, noticing the grin on his face. “You got jokes?”

  “One of us should, otherwise, this d…outing will be dreadful,” he deadpanned.

  Rolling my eyes at him, I snickered. “Okay. I deserve that. I am sorry.” I thought it best I end my sentence there because, with my luck, I would confess my deepest, darkest secret to him.

  “You did, and I apologize as well. It’s a slight sore spot with me. My name, I mean. My mother wanted a girl so badly, I wore pink, flowers, and dresses for the first year of my life. Thankfully, I grew quickly, and she ran out of girly clothes which fitted me. After that, she clothed me as a boy, and all was well.” Something in his eyes told me not everything was hunky-dory after that, but I wouldn’t pry.

  “That must have sucked.”

  “I was a baby, so I don’t remember that time else I might be scarred for life. There are plenty of pictures, though.”

  I would love to see those, I thought to myself. “Parents are sometimes our worst enemies.”

  He sank down in his seat so that we were level. “They truly are.” Reaching his hand toward me, he softly brushed my cheek with the tips of his fingers, and my eyes slid shut, pleasure zinging through me, making my whole body tingle. “Lint,” he whispered.

  “It’s everywhere.”

  “Did you mean what you said?”

  Frowning, I tried to think of what I’d said during our car ride and didn’t know what he was talking about. “Huh?” That was an intelligent response. In my head, I smacked myself.

  He shifted closer to me. “Are you interested in me?”

  My face burned and felt like it was on fire. Why did he have to catch that?

  “You don’t have to gape at me with a deer caught in the headlights expression. It was a simple question.” He chuckled, but I got the impression he wasn’t trying to be mean or tease me; he was truly curious.

  And I could only imagine what kind of expression my face was making. I’d read a meme once that said if my mouth doesn’t get me into trouble, it will be my facial expressions. All I could think about was how apt it was right now. I was an adult, a grown man who usually got what he wanted. I was straightforward to a fault and had been known to steal a boyfriend or two for a night of fun. It wasn’t my fault they decided to ditch their partners for me. Of course, they probably thought it would be more than one night, but it never was. Before Lorde, I couldn’t remember anyone catching my attention the way he did.

  I needed to man up and take life by the balls. “Sorry, and yes, I am very interested in you.” For now, I would ignore the way I had to force the words out, how my voice cracked like a teenager going through the change, and the way my cheeks felt hotter.

  “Good because I believe I’m interested in you too.”

  Hearing his confession, thrilled me, but instead of jumping up and down like an idiot, I smirked. “Only believe?”

  “We’ve only known each other…” Lorde paused and squinted, “two days if you don’t include the two days in-between the party and today.”

  “Let’s count them. Four days is better than two.” I winked.

  “Four it is,” he guffawed.

  The tension evaporated.

  Chapter 16

  Lorde

  Lunch was easy once we confessed like a couple of school kids. The only thing missing was the note with the check yes or no boxes. It hadn’t been so much my name which put me on edge, it was my mother. More than once, I’d heard her tell my father she was supposed to have had a daughter, that a daughter would have been better, more powerful. I wasn’t born a girl, and unlike my friend Alice who recently had her gender reassignment surgery, I didn’t associate with being a girl. I was a man who loved men.

  But it wasn’t only that. It had taken my mother a week to choose a name. Finally, she Googled German male names and pointed. My mother fancied it, and it was official. I was Lorde Sebastian Brandt, which sounded more a title of nobility than a name. It was different, unique, something I didn’t mind at all.

  Throughout the meal, we veered away from any topic to do with family and chose things that were safe to discuss: our travels, food, books, and sports. I found him fascinating.

  “So, what is the oldest book you’ve appraised?” he asked after our entrees had been delivered.

  “Me, personally?”

  “Is that a trick question?” He appeared confused and stopped cutting into his lamb.

  Covering my mouth, I laughed,
and a frown creased his forehead. “Sorry. The oldest book I’ve personally appraised was a Gutenberg Bible. However, I was in attendance when the Siddur was examined. The book is priceless and one of a kind. I was lucky enough to be invited to accompany my mentor. It was before I branched off on my own.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a Jewish Prayer Book, dating back to around 840 A.D. Several experts were there to make sure it was handled and dated properly. It would have been awful if found to be a hoax.”

  Max tilted his head to the side, his frown back. “Are there are a lot of those?”

  I nodded. “Sadly, there are. People trying to make a fast buck or become famous. Remember Shakespeare?” I reminded him of our previous conversation.

  “You said out of four clients, only one was real,” he answered before taking a bite of his food.

  “Yes. There is estimated to be only a couple of hundred surviving copies of the original seven hundred. So, since it’s not so rare that having more than one or two copies would be suspect, much like the Gutenberg Bible, people try to replicate it. I’ve seen some good forgeries in the past, but there are always clues.”

  Speaking with his mouth full, he inquired, “Like what?” He must have realized his faux pas because he quickly apologized, “Sorry.” It made me wonder if my face gave me away.

  I waved him off. “The ink and paper used, the patina, spacing, the condition of the book, the layout, small misspellings, and others. There are many things we look for whenever we are trying to determine whether a book is modern or antique. And if we can’t discern with the human eye, some tests can be run without damaging the book.” He stared at me, and I suddenly felt self-conscious. “I must be boring you.”

  Shaking his head, Max contradicted me, “Not at all. I find it fascinating. I didn’t realize how much went into books. I guess I didn’t think it would be like other antiques. I mean, some are questioning the Nefertiti bust, not to mention the fake Faberge Eggs out there.”