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Red Wine and a Red Couch (a short story based off of Dionysus and Theseus)

My black limo pulls up to the penthouse, and I hear the screams of millions of girls all holding posters that read “I Love U Dwight” or “Marry Me Dwight.” The photographer’s cameras flash in my eyes as I climb out onto the dirty concrete sidewalk. Large men all in green shirts block the way of the desperate fans.

I never thought being in some small town pop band would bring me to California to be in a rock band. Those idiots back home must be eating their words right now, because they kicked me out of that stupid band. You see, I had suggested we go with the more metal movement, but they disagreed. Needless to say, they showed me the door. I guess in the long run, I showed them.

I make my way into my penthouse after a long night of singing into a microphone, just to have a longer night of partying. I always throw the best parties. The room is full of heavy drinkers and smoke coming for illegal stuff on fire.  I scan the room as girls, I don’t even remember from the last party, yell my name, and motion for me to come over. I just wave them off and walk on.

Then I see her. She lies asleep on my soft red sofa with her delicate head lying on a young man’s lap. Her dark brown hair flows across his legs like a graceful waterfall.  I have never seen a face like hers. Her body moves gently as she takes one deep breath after another. She wears a light blue dress, with black leggings wrapped around her long legs.

I want her.

I walk closer to the couple. The young man doesn’t notice me due to the deep drunken conversation he is having with a greasy haired man. The drunken hairball turns to me and says,        “It’s Dwight. Hey… man.”

I reply, “Hey, would you excuse us for a moment?”

The man nods, stands, and stumbles away. The man with the girl’s head in his lap looks up at me and says with hazy eyes, “What do you want?”

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Tommy,” he slurs.

“What’s her name?” I ask pointing to the girl in his lap.

“Adette. She’s my fiancée. She doesn’t like to party,” He shakes his head sadly.

“I see…” I pause and think for a moment, “I want to make a deal with you.”

“What would that be?” He perks up.

“What if I told you, I will pay you five-hundred dollars if you leave without Adette?”

“I won’t leave her. I’m to marry her in July. Anyways, she’ll follow me; she loves me,” The man slides out from under her head and stands up off of the couch. I grab his shirt collar, “What can you offer her though? You don’t have near as much wealth as I do. I can pay her way into whatever she wants.” He doesn’t look away from me, but his eyes grow sad. I reach into my back pocket and shove five-hundred dollars into Tommy’s hands. I drag him by the shirt collar out the door and into the corridor. He doesn’t even put up a fight as I close the door behind him.

I make my way back to the couch and sit down next to Adette. I take a long look at her. What did I do? What forced those words from my mouth? Was she the reason I turned that man away?

Yes, she was.

I run my fingers through my long black hair. Time passes by and people leave. My penthouse is bare, except for Adette and me.

The sun peeks through the windows and kisses her cheek. I get up and pour two glasses full of crimson wine. Wine always solves my problems. I sit back down, and Adette starts to stir. She pushes herself up into a sitting position. She looks into my eyes and asks, “Who are you?”

“I’m Dwight,” I reply.

She nods slowly and a smile pulls at the edges of her mouth. I take her left- hand, slip off her diamond engagement ring, and place a glass of wine in her hand instead. We lift our dark red glasses into the light morning air.

“To the future,” I toast, and we pour our sweet drinks down our throats and washing away all our troubles.

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