Page 43 of Miss Christmas

“I understand you have a few questions for me.” He pointed to the suspicious fashion editor. May as well get the worst of it over with.

“I understand you’re seeing one of the contestants, Scarlet Jones. Should we assume that the pageant winner is a foregone conclusion?”

“You know I’m not a judge, right?”

“I know you’re a Regal. Am I right?”

“Sure, but we aren’t living in feudal times and this isn’t my castle.” Most of the small group laughed.

“Are you saying you have no sway with the judges?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And I’m also saying I wouldn’t want to have sway even if I could.”

“So what were you doing in the men’s room with a contestant?” a reporter for the Daily News asked while snapping a photo with his phone.

“Exactly what you’d expect,” he said. There was mostly laughter and furious tapping at tablets and more photos.

“Care to spell that out, Mr. Regal?” the fashion editor asked.

“No. But I will say that Ms. Jones and I are in a committed relationship.” His chest tightened and awareness of the tenuous limb he’d climbed out on made everything in him go rigid. Except his pecker. The tension almost made him sweat, but it didn’t break his smile. Scarlet would be proud of him. Or she might slap him. Either way, the idea eased his tension so he could walk away from the press even though they were still shouting questions, mostly about when they could talk to Scarlet and where she was now.

Good questions. He wanted to talk to her too.

Back inside the dining room, Will saw George at the bar with various stragglers. And with Margo, but no Scarlet. The waitstaff were in the process of disrobing tables of their cloths to show the hard-though-scarred wood underneath. He knew what those tables felt like. Naked and exposed. He hoped he was hard and solid enough to survive a committed relationship with Scarlet. At least his dick would be hard enough. The rest of him ought to be committed--to a mental institution.

“Did Scarlet go home?” he asked before saying anything else. Margo and George both laughed at him. Other relatives within earshot shook their heads.

“Yes. But before she left, she told me she wanted to withdraw from the pageant as a contestant to avoid controversy because of her relationship with you. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?”

“She did?” He didn’t know whether to be concerned or pleased, so he was both. The need to see her seemed to strangle his heart.

“Yes. She must think of her relationship with you as more important than winning the pageant.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Of course, I didn’t accept her withdrawal. I told her there was no need, explained it all to her.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go now,” he said. George slapped his back and Margo smiled, looked like she was going to say more. But Will didn’t wait. Couldn’t wait.

The urgency to spill all his feelings for her, to bare everything—his soul and his pecker—moved him. As soon as he was in the elevator, he took out his phone and called. No answer. He let it go to voice mail, but didn’t leave a message.

After calling seven times while he walked home in the cold night, Will gave up and finally left a message. He debated whether to hail a cab and head to her place. Only the prospect of having Dee there to watch or interfere or constrain him kept him on his path until he rode the elevator up to his apartment, swearing under his breath and ripping off his tie.

If she didn’t call him back tonight, he’d see her tomorrow. At the diner, lunch crowd or not. Friend Dee or not. Boss or not. Only the Knob Creek he had stashed for occasions like this—although he’d never had one quite like this before—kept him from dwelling on what could possibly be going on with her now.

* * *

It was pageant day. Except Scarlet was no longer in the pageant. Worse, she didn’t know if she was in her committed relationship with Will any longer.

Nonsense. That’s what committed relationships are about. Committing. It was Tiffany talking again.

But relationships were about trust, too. And there was this tiny piece of her that was having trouble with the trust right now, so she scrubbed the counter with extra zeal as the last of the morning rush left and only a few stragglers remained.

Had Will had her investigated because he assumed the worst about her? Was he really a snob, thinking she was beneath him because she had a different background than he did? Stop the negative thoughts, Scarlet.

The bell on the diner’s door jingled and she rolled her eyes, snatching up a menu. When she looked up and saw that it was Will, she froze. She shouldn’t be surprised that he’d showed up. Her heart was glad even if everything else in her wobbled around.

“Hello, Scarlet. We need to talk.”