Stuart Holden

She scrunched up her nose when he spoke. “Did you? I’m sorry. I guess I couldn’t hear you over the self-pitying I was doing.” She eyed the bag as the smile spread on her face. She loved the resort’s breakfast. It was probably the closest she could get to a home cooked meal without doing it herself. Belle eyed the styrofoam cup. “Allison’s a saint. Tell her thank you for me.” She opened the bottle of medicine taking four out then grabbing the cup from him and swallowing the pills. “Are you going to join me or are you just dropping the food off?”

“Not to you,” he clarified. “To Allison, this morning, when she insisted I come make sure you’re not dead.” A soft smile warmed his features when she called Allison a saint. The woman was; she didn’t have a mean bone in her body. “I will, but you should call her and tell her yourself. So she knows you’re okay.” Stu shook his head and stood up, trying not to judge as he watched her pop four pills in her mouth, but he went right back to judging when he looked about the cluttered mess that was her room. “Just dropping it off. I’ve got some things I need to get done today.” He gave her a pointed look as he stepped over some clothes that were bunched up on the floor. “Have you got a toaster oven? Allison said to warm this up in anything but a microwave,” he said, holding up the bag of food as he stepped into the hallway.

The voice on the other side of the door wasn’t who Belle expected. She’d never imagine that Stu Holden would come in and check on her, but it was probably Allison who made him. She grabbed some toilet paper and wiped her mouth off then flung it in the toilet. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here, Stu.” She used the sink to assist her to stand up and gripped the edges as a wave of dizziness came over her. No more drinking. Ever again. She knew that was a lie. Next weekend she’d be back at it drinking mojitos and shots like they were water. She opened her medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen before slowly turning to the door and opening it. She gave Stu a smile. “What did you bring? I hope it’s a miracle cure.”

Stu raised a brow when she told him he didn’t have to come here, nodding to himself because, “I know that, I said that, but here I am,” he said, stepping away from the door. He looked for somewhere to sit while she finished cleaning up, or doing whatever she was doing in there. Finally he chose to sit on the edge of her bed, his leg bouncing impatiently as he waited for her to come out. He tried to muster up some sympathy as she stepped through the door looking like a hot mess, but he could not. She had done this to herself. Stu sniggered, giving her a little shrug as he held up the bag of food. “Dunno, probably the same thing we had.” They still cooked up a breakfast for the staff, even when there were no guests staying at the hotel. “This here is a coffee, black. There’s cream and sugar in the bag,” he said, holding out the styrofoam cup for her to take.

Regret. That was all she felt as she hugged her toilet. “Too many cosmos.” The woman tilted her head on her hand as she closed her eyes. She knew she made a fool of herself the night before. She had to of because there was no way she would have drank that much and not embarrassed herself. Why was she like this? She heard shuffling outside the door of the bathroom. Was someone here? She couldn’t recall if she called someone for help this morning or if she came home with anyone last night. She groaned, “If you’ve come to kill me, I think the hangover is beating you to it.”

Stu had half a mind to ignore the call when they got it, but his staff persuaded him to come check on the girl. Caller ID was one heck of a thing. She’d stayed at the resort once or twice, and his staff for some reason loved her. Stu had a soft spot for her too, but not enough to willingly come all the way out here to check on her. Rolling his eyes, he knocked on the front door. When he got no answer, he checked around for a spare key and let himself in. “Hello?” he called, but still, there was no answer. Making as much noise as possible, so she wouldn’t be startled, Stu wandered further into the house, and further still into her bedroom. He walked toward the bathroom, suppressing a laugh as he stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “You butt dialed my hotel and we heard you dying. They insisted someone had to come over and make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit.” After a pause, he added, “I’ve bring gifts.”

There was a god damn cat in a tree. Because Grace’s life was one huge fucking cliche, there was a crying little girl, and a fucking cat in a tree. She was tempted to just call the fire department, but no, the family had called the cops, and Grace had been the unlucky one responding to the scene. So now, here she was, with shrill cries of a kid in her ear, and a growling cat glaring down at her. “Oh my god,” she grumbled, before deciding to just clamber up into the tree herself. It was a fucking cat, how hard could it be? Hard, it turned out. She finally had the yowling creature by the scruff of the neck, angry paws swiping outward, leaving thin lines of blood over Grace’s hand, neck, face, any exposed skin, really. “Oi!” she called out, straddling a branch with the most done look on her face, “Dude! C’mere for a second, I need your hands!” Pulling in a civilian to help was probably unprofessional, but this cat was a demon, and Grace couldn’t clamber down with a literal demon attached to her hand.

Stuart had been watching the scene from afar as he walked down the road. It was one of those wrong place, wrong time type of situations, and his stupid ass just kept walking right toward the scene. Not only that, he also stopped right beside the crying little girl, when the woman in the tree called out to him. “What?” he called back, utter confusion on his features. “My hands? What do you--?” And then it dawned on him. This crazy woman, was she going to throw the cat down from the tree? “Oh, no. No, no, no!” He wagged his finger at the woman as he stepped away from the tree. “Are you out of your mind? Just let the cat go and come down.” At that, the little girl wailed harder, startling Stu. “Or! Stay up there, and I’ll call animal control.”

There was nothing quite as tough to deal with when it came to the game of soccer than a loss in the last minute of the game. After coming back and rallying multiple times on the night, only to fall just short when Carolina scored at the death, Tyler felt utterly exhausted. The loss, the fact that she hadn’t contributed in the way she would have wanted, and the drama with whatever was going on with her hand was all just compounding together. So, rather than heading home with Beckett after the game, she’d gotten a sitter for the night and taken herself to a bar to blow off some steam instead. With a glass of bourbon in hand, Tyler was flopped down at one of the local bars away from the stadium, a glumness about her that was unmistakable. Hearing the TV above at the bar start recapping the game that night, she let out a groan and thunked her head into the bar. “Fuck, c’mon man,” she grumbled, not wanting to hear it right then.

Stuart had just taken a seat when the woman beside him grumbled. He was unsure what to do; he hadn’t been listening to the tv, nor did he recognize her, so he could only assume the comment was directed at him. “Right then, sorry,” he said, and moved one seat down, so there was an empty seat between them. The bartender gave him an odd look, to which Stuart just shrugged and ordered himself a drink. He looked up at the tv, sipping his drink as he watched in silence. It was some sports thing, something Stu had no interest in, but he could swear that one girl looked just like... His brows scrunched up as he glanced to the girl next to him. Was it her?

“Alright, well just let me know if anything comes up. I’m not far, I can be there in twenty minutes… Thanks, Kristen… Bye.” And just like that, her only excuse to come into the hospital vanished with the tap of a button. Tossing her phone onto the bar counter, the brunette drummed slinder fingers along the outer edge of a half finished glass of some overpriced tequila concoction. A loss of how to continue the evening without work to occupy her mind weighed heavy on the brunette’s thoughts before she finally pivoted her bar stool to the unwitting person beside her. “Who decided that weekends were a thing? I hate this. There’s nothing to do.” 

Stuart wasn’t typically one to go to bars, but after enough prodding from a friend, he decided to go. Meet some people, live a little, that was he was supposed to be doing, but instead he sat at the bar by himself with a sudoku and an untouched glass of whiskey. He hadn’t paid much mind to the people at the bar, only muttered a quick hello when they sat and busied himself with his puzzle again. He didn’t look up again until he felt the woman beside him turn in her seat, possibly toward him. Stuart looked up wordlessly, blinking at her when she spoke. “Well,” he began, setting down his sudoku. “You don’t necessarily have to do anything, you can just relax. Watch a movie, read a book... take a nap.”

Hello friends! Here is my newest son, who somehow is more disgusting than James. Come plot with me.