Last Words

"Come in! Come in!" said Ms.Laurier, Lady Lardock's maid.

"Ah! The lovely Ms.Laurier a sight for sore eyes! How are you? Better yet how is Lady Lardock? I heard she didn't take being laid off well." Christopher P. Traint took off his black slicker. It dripped from the rain outside. He then subconsciously took off his black leather gloves, revealing ringless fingers and well manicured nails.

"I'm well, but Lady Lardock is... devasted and that's putting it lightly. She's waiting for you in the cocktail room."

Ms.Laurier was a plumb woman with chocolate brown eyes and a slightly crooked smile, one which you wouldn't notice with a single glance. Her honey-brown hair was always pinned into a loose french bun. She was 53 but held herself like one of 40. She had been of service for Lady Lardock for far more then 15 years. The thought of retirement now consumed a large portion of her time.

"I shan't leave her waiting!" Christopher headed to the cocktail room. Being Santra's best-friend was not the easiest thing. At times it seemed more of a task!

His thoughts ended abruptly when he reached the cocktail room. Soft jazz played in the background. Christopher stood in the doorway and stared reflectively at the form of Santra who faced the fireplace giving him her back. His stare traveled to the white wine bottle to Santra's left. It was from Santra's and Samuel's honeymoon. They had recently divorced, but she'd never had the heart to get rid of it. Christopher reminisced of the day of their return, Santra had been beautiful and so, so happy. She hadn't been able to hold back a single detail about their honeymoon. She had told him everything. Of course she would have. Him being gay made things so much easier. Santra didn' t trust anyone...anyone but him of course. Their relationship wasn't all fun and Santra wasn't always there when he needed her...but then again Christopher had the tendency to belittle things.

He reluctantly shifted his gaze back to Santra and made his way soundlessly to her side. He brushed a loose piece of her auburn hair behind her ear. He then held her chin and turned her head towards him. His heart broke as he took in her painful grimace. Huge wet tears streamed down her flaming red cheeks, clouding her beautiful forest green eyes.

"Why do you cry dear friend?" Whispered Christopher his voice barely audible. Santra pulled herself away from him and looked out the window. It was half open, something which struck Christopher as odd for he didn't recall seeing it open when he'd entered. The clear curtains blew with the warm April breeze and the fresh scent of rain mixing with the smell of wood created an excruciatingly beautiful mélange.

"It's...the rain...I hate it. Sit down Chris. I need to tell you something. I have reason to believe that I'm in danger."

"Danger! But who would want to hurt you?" Santra slumped into a crimson love seat closing her eyes. She let a crumpled piece of paper fall to the floor. She sighed as if a huge burden had been lifted. Christopher picked up the paper and read it frowning.

S.L.

S.L...Not much to work with. He'd have to go over this later.

"Get me a drink. No get two glasses Chris. You'll drink with me." Christopher rolled his eyes and grinned.

"What are we drinking?" Christopher stood by the fireplace.

"White wine. The one there to your left." Christopher grabbed the bottle and poured out two full glasses.