Max

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Max

(Rough Draft)

He could hear the disturbed whispers through the thick door of his study. The fast clack of footsteps that had preceded them alerted him that something unusual was about to be brought to his attention. Max hoped so. Lately the nights had become long, very long indeed.

The quietly deliberate knock on the door broke the rhythm of his thoughts ticking in time to the huge floor clock. Max, shutting his computer down by the second knock, bade the newest problem, “Enter.” Only problems ever knocked on his door at this hour. Everyone else refused to disturb him when he was in his study. Maybe this time it would be something interesting. Maybe it would take some real skill to solve.

Max showed no emotion. His majordomo had come and gone. The news was not what he had expected. Strange. Things rarely went unexpectedly.

Pondering this new development, Max descended the stairs one deliberate step at a time. A young woman was downstairs demanding to see him. He had never heard of Clary Delacorte, yet here she was at this hour insisting on his attention. It was odd that after all of the time he had spent hunting for a woman, one would show up unexpectedly. Max had given up his quest a few years ago after deciding his minimum standards were unattainable.

Max reached the downstairs hall without coming to any conclusions. Renfew had reportedly put her in the library, but it didn’t look like she had stayed there.

It took a few moments for the apparition coming toward her to be verified as flesh and blood. The man had seemed to materialize directly out of the shadows in the unlit hall. Dressed all in black, the intimidating color absorbed the light while the sheen of midnight hair coupled with piercing dark eyes seemed to reflect and distort what was left. Clary was puzzled by the silence of his movements until she looked at his feet, they were bare. It was an ominous sign.

Plucking up her courage, Clary demanded, “Where is Flaxen? What have you done with her?”

The man did not reply, but kept looking at her and moving forward. Clenching her teeth momentarily to keep them from chattering, she repeated. “Where is Flaxen? I won’t leave until she comes with me!”

Towering over the young woman, Max looked down into distressed blue eyes. Almost awash in tears, either of anger or frustration, perhaps of fear, the eyes were nevertheless sincere. Answering the sincerity and not the question, he replied, “She can’t come.”

Attacked by five foot three of raw fury, Max stepped back before his toes were mashed by stylish running shoes. Catching hold of her hands after the first few hits, he held her immobile by simply dangling her from her wrists a few inches above the floor. As she strove to kick him, he dropped her. Landing on her bottom in an undignified heap, large tears spilled from her angry eyes.

Looking beyond the tears and rage, once again he was struck by the sincerity of the woman’s quest. It was really too bad he couldn’t help. Clearing his throat for attention, Max said, “I don’t know who Flaxen is nor is she here.”

Clary glared up the demon man. “I know she’s here. You have her and I want her back!”

She looked serious…not deranged. Max sighed as he tried again. Reaching down to help her to her feet, Max wasn’t really surprised when she refused his touch. He had that effect on women. She managed to get to her feet without taking her eyes off him. Her eyes burned through her tears with the fervor of a missionary.

Growing more curious, Max turned towards the door to his library. She followed him as he thought she might. As fervent as she was about getting information, he thought it likely she was unarmed. The alarms hadn’t gone off. Turning to sit on the arm of his favorite sofa, he crossed his arms over his chest and indicated a chair with his chin.

“I will go to the police and have you arrested for kidnapping. I will have friends picket your business. I will….”

Max held up and hand to interrupt the spate of threats. It was amazing. Most men were afraid to threaten him yet here was a very young woman doing just that. Crossing one ankle over the other, he eyed her face. In the slightly brighter light of the library he could tell she undoubtedly felt she was correct in every thing she believed.

“What makes you think I know where this person, Flaxen, is?” Max inquired, sincerely puzzled.

Shocked, Clary replied, “What a cold bastard you are. You invited her here to your house party the night before last and you claim not to know who she is?” Her voice rose in intensity and volume with every word. Hysteria didn’t seem far behind.

Max’s eyes turned cold and empty. He didn’t know what the woman wanted but it could not be what she asked. Icily he told her, “I don’t have house parties. Leave here, either on your own, or I’ll show you to the door myself.”

Shouting, “Liar!” she launched herself at him again.

This time he sidestepped the charge and she fell forward as her momentum draped her over the back of the couch. Turning, Max grasped the back of her neck in a tight hold and marched her to the front door. Renfew opened it in time for the ejection.

The heavy door was barely closed before the woman recovered and started beating on it and screeching. Max looked at Renfew and raised an eyebrow with the continuation of the noise. Then suddenly, silence settled over them. Just as they were about to move a deafening ‘boom’ rocked the foyer. They stared at each other as another ‘boom’ reverberated through the hall.

Max strode forward and wrenched open the door. Clary fell onto the floor following a cannon ball she had purloined from the front terrace. Dancing away, Max barely missed mashed toes as she lost her grip on the ball. Hauling her up by an arm, Max marched the little demon back into his library. As he threw her into a heavily upholstered reading chair he stopped to tower over her.

Into the tense silence, Max spoke slowly and clearly, “Get this through your head. I do not have parties, therefore I do not have party guests, therefore I did not invite ‘Flaxen,’ therefore it can probably be deduced even by an idiot like you that I do not have her.”

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Last modified: April 24, 2005