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Bennett | Devon
Different Colors
Tue Feb 7, 2006 19:29
66.244.88.49

Bennett! I'm going to be on Oprah's live holiday show. Sorry I haven't called, this past week has been absolutely monsterous. I think she comes on around four, on channel seven. Mom's taping it for me, even though I'll be performing. Ah ... talk to you later, I guess. Bye!

Benny stared at the answering machine, playing the message again. Wait, she was going to be on the Oprah show? Suppressing the wild urge to begin giggling for absolutely no reason—Wait. Yes, there was a reason. Lara was going to be on a talk show! Giving in to the urge, he eventually flopped over onto the sofa, gasping for air. Oh God, that was funny.

Right. She totally had to be pulling his leg. C’mon, Oprah?

James found him a short while later, still giggling about the message Lara had left on the machine. Unable to help it, Bennett pressed play, and let his father hear the message. Of course, the retired army officer had no sense of humor; merely lofted a brow in consternation, and headed off into the living room. The television was turned on, and the cable guide activated. Curious, Benny followed his father, observing as he moved the cursor to highlight Oprah’s show. Pressing the ‘details’ button, the lineup was revealed for today.

“Holy shit.” She wasn’t kidding! “Oh my fuc—”

“Bennett!” James reprimanded, content to leave his son gaping at the television. Oh God, he had doubted her. Shit! Where the hell was the— “Here.” There was the phone. Drawing a deep breath, Bennett punched in Lara’s phone number from memory. That was pretty sad, wasn’t it? At least he didn’t have to talk his way through Felix any more. Ring-ring… ring-ring…

Hey, it’s me! Leave one. Beep!

“Hey, Lara! Sorry I didn’t hear your message earlier, but Dan broke up with ‘Lissa last night… I’ve never seen a guy cry so hard. Or drink that much!” Benny knew that she didn’t exactly hang out with these people, but a few times after her sets they had been around, and properly introduced. “I played babysitter to his drunk ass until dawn.” Sigh. “Wish I could be there cheering you on, babe. I know you’ll blow ‘em away. Gimmie a buzz when ya can, a’right? Later.” Click. Okay, so he didn’t sound totally helpless in that message…

Who the hell was he kidding?

When that time rolled around, Bennett could be found planted on the sofa, watching the Oprah show. Oh God, if his friends could see him, he’d never live it down. But it’d be worth it, if just to see Lara perform on live TV! Not just live, but national! She’d be a damned household name after this! For some reason, Benny found himself absurdly happy for Lara He couldn’t help it!

When the hell was this freaking decorator going to get off the stage?! Inwardly huffing and puffing, he forced himself to settle down, and get a Coke from the fridge. When Bennett returned to his perch, he found his father there instead. But still watching Oprah. What… the hell?

“Just curious why she holds your attention…” James murmured by way of explanation, turning up the volume a teensie bit when the show came back. Of course, five minutes of their time was eaten up by the damned decorator displaying his little Oprah doll. “Don’t go into interior design, please?” Huh? Quirking a brow at his father, Benny wondered what that was all about. “You’ve seen how neurotic Moira can get. Just look at that guy!” Right. He did have a point, though. “It’s got to be all the pastel colors. Warps the mind.” He couldn’t help it, and started laughing at the absurd statement.

“And now I'd like to introduce a young lady who has been quietly making some headway in the club scene. My producer saw this performer at a gig in Tennessee last year, and has been pestering me to let her on. So, without further ado, Laramie Sorensen!”

Oooh!

All around my hat, I will wear the green willow
All around my hat, for a twelvemonth and a day
And if anyone should ask me the reason why I'm wearing it,
It's all for my true love, who is far, far away.


Bennett smiled when the camera panned over to Lara’s image, revealing those damned blue boots. She still claimed they were turquoise. They were blue, damn it!

Fare thee well, cold winter and fare thee well, cold frost
Nothing have I gained, but my own true love I've lost
I'll sing and I'll be merry when occasion I do see,
He's a false, deluding young man, let him go, farewell he.


Benny had to resist the urge to applaud after her song was done, and the interview began. Between their idle chit-chats, he already had all the knowledge she freely gave away to the public domain. Ever since the night at the Cage, though… It felt funny. He couldn’t explain it.

“Well…” his father finally managed, once the show went to commercial. “If you had to get locked in the closet with anyone, at least it was her.”

“Dad!”

“What?! I can’t say she seems like a nice, young lady?” James gave a loud harrumph, and rose from the sofa.

Well, that was some lovely father-son time.




She manipulated me!

Devon could only think of that, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom in the wee hours of sunrise. It wasn’t surprising, honestly, that Sonnet had stooped to such a level in his own home. Sure, it may not have all the amenities that hers did, but it was comfortable and clean. Unlike most bachelor pads. Maybe because he was almost never here?

She’s paying me back for the zoo. That had to be it. Sigh.

God, why couldn’t he just sleep?! Shoving a pillow over his face when he heard Sonnet flip on the television, Devon groaned. Damn it! He should’ve forced her to take the bed. No, because then he’d never change the bloody sheets! Argh. Or he could have just invited her to sleep in the bed. With him. Snorting a laugh into his pillow, Devon tried not to make any loud noises. He’d be lucky to keep his balls attached with a comment like that!

Jesus, why was she so insistent on not doing anything? Not even dating! What, was there something wrong with dating a co-worker? Hell, the rest of the department did it, why couldn’t they?! Huffing in frustration, Devon toppled out of the bed, knowing there was no way he could get to sleep now. Not after weeks of early mornings spent with… her. Tumbling off to the bathroom before Sonnet could try and claim it, he didn’t hear much coming from the living room at first.

…major earthquake has struck the town of San Mateo, which is just south of San Francisco. Early estimates placed it at 6.7, but we are now told it was 6.9…

Imagine the surprised look on his face when he heard Sonnet fumbling with the phone. Instead of meandering further down the hall, Devon hung back near the archway that separated living room and hallway in hopes to understand what the hell was going on.

“Mom, turn on the television. There was an earthquake in California. I can’t get a hold of Michael.” Who was Michael? Well, there was only one way to get to the bottom of this. Back into the bedroom!

Flipping open his cell phone, Devon went through the directory before locating the number he wanted. Isabel had insisted on it, even programmed it in herself. He was lucky she hadn’t changed his pin number while she was at it! Beep. Waiting during the several rings it took, and knowing it was way too early for a call like this, Devon gathered up his dirty laundry in the wait and made the bed.

“Ben? Sorry to wake you, it’s Devon.” Pause. “No, no. Everything is all right. I think. Well, Sonnet stayed over since we had a late night, and she’s confiscated my phone. She’s talking to Isabel right now, and they’re worried about Michael because of an earthquake in Cali?” Devon’s eyes grew very wide, suddenly holding the phone away from his ear and wincing. Did he have to be so loud?! But, through it all, he managed to piece together a few bits of information. One, Michael was Hugh’s son. Wow, that was a surprise. When the hell did that guy ever lay his hands on a woman? Two, ergo, Michael was Sonnet’s brother. Their family was odd, but no odder than his own, and likely tight knit. “Okay. Okay! Ben, calm down. Just give me his contact information.”

Right, right. Yep. Got it! Hanging up his cell phone, Devon tried the guy’s number just for kicks. We apologize for the delay, but all circuits are busy. Please try again later. Well if that wasn’t a big freaking surprise. Right, so, should we tell Sonnet? Nah. He had a better idea! Flopping down on the edge of the bed, he rummaged about in the bedside table drawer, coming out with a Little Black Book. Sort of amusing, wasn’t it? Flipping through the pages, he eventually stumbled across whatever he was searching for. Here goes nothing…

“Rick? Holmes here. No, everyone’s doing good. Listen, I have a favor to ask…” It took some wheeling and dealing, something he wasn’t particularly proud of. He swore he just sold off his soul to this guy. “Right, he should be around that area,” Devon managed, after rattling off the name and address. “Thanks. I owe ya.” Click. Gah, he was going to be useless for the little while it would take to get a return phone call!

Huffing and puffing, and using the in between time to take a shower – with the phone in the bathroom, thank you! – Devon could feel a gnawing at his gut that wasn’t from hunger every time he passed the living room. Sonnet sat there, perched on the edge of the sofa, worriedly eyeing the television and murmuring into the phone every so often. By the time he reached the bedroom once more, his cell phone began bleating angrily. Outstanding!

“Holmes. Hey, Rick… Huh?” Blinking, Devon’s brow furrowed. “How should I know if he’s an actor or not?” Pausing, the cop worried his lower lip, wondering what the hell was going on. He could hear a man in the background making snide comments, which was just going to piss Rick off even more. “No, no. Just put him on the line.” Was this really such a good idea? The mental image of Sonnet worrying confirmed that he was a fool, and would likely do most anything for her.

“Yes’sir? Is this Michael Pierson?” Whoa. Eyes grew large at the way this guy was talking. What an asshole! “Listen, all I want to know is if your father is named Hugh, and your sister is named Sonnet.” Pausing, a slight smirk lifted a corner of Devon’s mouth. Re-wrapping the towel about himself, he held it with one hand, and the phone in the other. “Well, I’d like to know considering Sonnet is sitting on my sofa worried sick. Maybe I should just hang up and see if we can find you another SAT phone sometime… say, next week?” Ew, that was definitely not a nice response.

In fact, while the fellow continued on some sort of tirade – understandable, he was stressed, but still! – Devon meandered into the living room. Towel and all! Holding the phone out to Sonnet, he wiggled it a bit. But did not wiggle the towel, damn it.

“Phone for you…”

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