Seize the Day - NaNoWriMo Attempt - Chapter 6
I'm ahead now on the NaNoWriMo goals, but I'm sure the next few days (I work the next 3 at least, in a row) are going to have low word counts. Wish me luck?
Previous Chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
Jazz sighed, throwing his head back against the back seat of the car. He loosened his tie, tugging the knot away from his neck as he closed his eyes. The Western Colonies needed to be dealt with first. The news of his father’s recovery would have to be dealt with, second. For a moment, he considered calling an emergency Council meeting, though he wasn’t certain he needed to do that, just yet.
He pulled out his phone, his “missed call” from Savin still cluttering up the screen. He cleared it out -- not without saving the older man’s contact information, first -- before rifling through his contacts, looking for the main contact over in the Western Colonies. As the phone rang, he did the mental math of what time it would be on that side of the country. It would be mid-afternoon there, he realized. News of the Emperor’s near-assassination would have spread that far, wouldn’t it have?
“Ah, yes, this is Prince Jasper, Emperor Callahan’s son,” Jazz began, clearing his throat. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair. “The Emperor is on the road to recovery and survived, but he’ll need time to recover. I understand he had a meeting with you tomorrow afternoon; would you prefer to reschedule, or would you mind meeting up with me, instead?”
His heart pounded in his chest as the woman on the other end paused. He tried not to clear his throat again in his nervousness. “Have you been briefed on the issues we colonies have been having, Prince Jasper?” the woman asked, sounding hesitant.
“I have,” Jazz answered, sitting up straight. “I have been assisting Councilor Foraker with keeping up contact with your colony. He just prefers to do all the legwork.”
“I see,” the woman murmured into the phone. “I think it’d be best if we reschedule, to give both of us more time to prepare ourselves for the meeting. We can meet with you, if your father doesn’t feel up to traveling at that time.”
Jazz breathed an internal sigh of relief, his eyes closing briefly as he nodded wordlessly to no one. “That works for me,” he said, his voice a little lighter than it had been, a moment ago. “When would you like to meet, then?”
As the woman suggested dates, Jazz looked over his father’s schedule. He had a long night ahead of him, rearranging all of his father’s contacts and meetings. He tried not to think about that as he blocked out a day for the Western colonies, thanking the woman on the other end profusely before they hung up on one another. The itinerary had so many other events blocked out, and Jazz felt his chest tighten and restrict.
If his father had died, this schedule would have been his. The whole Empire would have been his. Names and places dotted the itinerary, a great deal of which Jazz didn’t immediately recognize. How in the world did his father manage to keep everything straight?
The question lingered in his mind as he made phone call after phone call, rescheduling what he could and making notes on every bit of the itinerary for himself. Once they arrived at the Palace, his head swam with information and his skull pounded with lack of sleep. He knew he couldn’t sleep yet. Not until he had gotten everything squared away and everyone up to date on the situation as it stood now.
As the Guard escorted him back inside the Palace, Jazz placed his hands in his pockets and made sure to walk with confidence. They walked him back to his room, and he glanced over his father’s itinerary one last time. As they neared his apartment, the weight of the day’s events could be felt on his shoulders.
When he looked up from the schedule, he noticed Mitchel standing in front of his apartment door, just like he had that morning. Jazz’s jaw clenched as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Councilor Foraker,” he said with a slight nod of his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Is it alright if we have this conversation in private, Prince Jasper?” Mitchel asked, his voice as smooth as ever. He reached up, brushing an imaginary bit of dust off his shoulder. “Clearly, the Emperor’s Guard can trust you and I to be alone, for a few moments?”
Jazz frowned as he neared his apartment door. He glanced back at the Guard, which now only consisted of three men and two women. “You all are dismissed,” he said quietly, unlocking the deadbolt. “I’ll be leaving again in the morning at seven. Please, do not be late.”
The Guards nodded, stepping away from Mitchel and Jazz. “What is it that you really want, Mitchel?” Jazz asked once he was certain they were out of earshot. He stepped inside his apartment and gestured for the older man to follow.
“I wanted to speak with you,” Mitchel said, his own hand lingering on his tie. He stepped inside Jazz’s living quarters, a slight frown on his face as he turned to the side. “How’s your father?”
“He survived the surgery,” Jazz answered, making sure to keep his tone nice and even. He didn’t look at Mitchel as he moved further inside his apartment, heading towards the bedroom. He also made sure to shut the bedroom door behind him as he stripped out of his suit and into a pair of pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt.
When he emerged from the bedroom, Jazz noticed Mitchel standing in the middle of the hallway, his eyebrow raised at Jazz’s appearance. “And?” he prompted, slipping his hands inside his pockets. “How long will he need to recover?”
“A few weeks,” Jazz said, tugging on the hem of his shirt for a moment. He bit his lip and looked away from Mitchel. “Dr. Bates said it might take longer than that, depending on how long it’d take him to heal.”
Mitchel nodded, pursing his lips together in thought. “I see. Have you spoken with the colonies and the rest of Emperor Callahan’s contacts? Rescheduled meetings? Called an emergency Council meeting?”
“I’ve done the first and second thing, but I decided against the emergency Council meeting. Alexandra is with my dad at the hospital. She’s not going to get much sleep and the rest of the Council already knows that he’s been shot. I’ve sent them all messages to let them know that he survived and that we’ll meet again at the next scheduled meeting,” Jazz rambled off, crossing his arms over his chest. He pushed past Mitchel and back out into his living room, collapsing onto his threadbare couch. “I guess you didn’t get that message?”
“I did,” Mitchel answered, frowning a bit to himself. He followed Jazz into the living room slowly, keeping his distance and his eyes anywhere but on Jazz as he spoke. “I disagree with remaining with the same Council meeting schedule. You need to be caught up to speed with everything going on within the Empire -- an emergency Council meeting would be the best way to do that.”
“I am taking all of tomorrow to familiarize myself as much as possible with each individual issue my father has been trying to address this week alone,” Jazz said, running his fingers through his hair.
“I can assist you with that, if you need me to,” Mitchel offered, sounding nonchalant. He settled himself on the couch one seat over to Jazz’s left, crossing one leg over the other. “I can set my research aside for one day, if that’s the Prince’s wish.”
“I don’t need your help, Mitchel,” Jazz said quietly, throwing his head back against the couch. He looked towards the ceiling, feeling tears sting at his eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather be left alone until I have to go back to the hospital.”
“Are you sure?” Mitchel asked. He looked towards Jazz, his dark eyes flashing in the low light of Jazz’s apartment. “You seem quite upset. You can talk to me, if you want.”
“Mitchel, we broke up,” Jazz said, shaking his head. “This whole thing is confusing and my dad could have died, and -- I just, I need time to myself, okay?” He glanced at Mitchel and sighed. “I don’t think you should keep coming around to my apartment, anymore.”
Mitchel’s expression barely changed, though Jazz thought he saw Mitchel’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit. Mitchel then sighed and looked away, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow propped up against the arm of the couch. “I suppose I waited too long to tell you my feelings, then,” he said, pushing himself up to standing. He made his way to Jazz’s front door and stopped, turning to narrow his eyes at Jazz. “Did you really sleep with some other man, last night?”
Jazz blinked, the question throwing him off guard. He felt his face burn with guilt and he looked away from Mitchel, folding his arms over his chest as he did so. “Does it really matter if I did or not? I don’t want a relationship with you anymore, Mitchel. I already told you that.”
“What was the man’s name?” Mitchel asked, clearing his throat. “If you truly did sleep with someone else, what was the man’s name? Or did you even bother asking him for his before accepting the invitation into his bed?”
That time, Jazz could hear the biting tone to Mitchel’s words; the jealousy that lay beneath it. Jazz snorted to himself, shaking his head. “His name is Savin Bates,” he said, rising to his feet. He kept his arms crossed over his chest as he walked towards Mitchel, his eyes narrowed. “We had sex twice -- once in his bed, the other in his shower the next morning. He had these amazing green eyes and he was a little on the thin side. Is that enough ‘proof’ for you?”
Mitchel’s lips pursed together, forming a slight frown. He furrowed his brow in thought, looking away from Jazz. “This man -- you said his last name was Bates, correct?” Jazz nodded, feeling his features twist in confusion. “The doctor in charge of your father’s care -- wasn’t his last name also Bates?”
Jazz’s eyes widened, his face burning again. “Yes,” he said, biting his bottom lip.
Mitchel scoffed, shaking his head. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He let out a sharp laugh. “ It’s all too clear you’re lying about sleeping with someone else -- why else would your father’s surgeon and the man you slept with have the same last name?”
“Maybe because they’re the same person?” Jazz offered, letting out a bitter laugh of his own. He shook his head and ran his fingers over his hair. “If you really don’t believe me, Mitchel, that’s fine. But I have his number, and --”
“You seriously can’t believe you’ll see him again, can you?” Mitchel asked, cutting Jazz off. “If this other man truly existed, how are you even going to see him? Outside of the time you spend with your father in the hospital, that is. It’s not as though your father will simply grant him permission to walk inside the Palace -- and there’s no way that man would accept dates where the two of you would never truly be alone.”
Jazz bit his lip again, this time harder than before. Tears stung at his eyes, and he looked away from Mitchel. “I know you’re jealous, Mitchel, but --”
Mitchel snorted, effectively cutting Jazz off. “I am not jealous. I’m astounded, really, that all it took for you to move on from our relationship was to climb into bed with someone else. Does Bates even know that you just ended another relationship?”
Jazz shook his head. “Does it matter?” he shot back, narrowing his eyes at Mitchel. “It’s not like we were still together when I slept with him. It’s not like I cheated on you with him -- I’m single. You’re single. We can sleep with whoever we want. It doesn’t matter.”
Except guilt twisted at his insides, anyway, with the look Mitchel continued to give him. After a moment of silence, Mitchel just shook his head and turned on his heel. “Goodnight, Prince Jasper. Good luck with Dr. Bates -- if the man even exists.”
“Good fucking riddance,” Jazz muttered under his breath as Mitchel shut the door behind him. Anger built in his chest, threatening to escape as he, too, turned on his heel and headed back towards his bedroom. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and typed out a message to send to Mitchel, reading, Next time I see you at my apartment I’m calling the Guard, but thought better of the message and deleted it.
It was just a break-up, he reminded himself. Mitchel would get the point, eventually.
Right?
Next Chapter
Previous Chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
Jazz sighed, throwing his head back against the back seat of the car. He loosened his tie, tugging the knot away from his neck as he closed his eyes. The Western Colonies needed to be dealt with first. The news of his father’s recovery would have to be dealt with, second. For a moment, he considered calling an emergency Council meeting, though he wasn’t certain he needed to do that, just yet.
He pulled out his phone, his “missed call” from Savin still cluttering up the screen. He cleared it out -- not without saving the older man’s contact information, first -- before rifling through his contacts, looking for the main contact over in the Western Colonies. As the phone rang, he did the mental math of what time it would be on that side of the country. It would be mid-afternoon there, he realized. News of the Emperor’s near-assassination would have spread that far, wouldn’t it have?
“Ah, yes, this is Prince Jasper, Emperor Callahan’s son,” Jazz began, clearing his throat. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair. “The Emperor is on the road to recovery and survived, but he’ll need time to recover. I understand he had a meeting with you tomorrow afternoon; would you prefer to reschedule, or would you mind meeting up with me, instead?”
His heart pounded in his chest as the woman on the other end paused. He tried not to clear his throat again in his nervousness. “Have you been briefed on the issues we colonies have been having, Prince Jasper?” the woman asked, sounding hesitant.
“I have,” Jazz answered, sitting up straight. “I have been assisting Councilor Foraker with keeping up contact with your colony. He just prefers to do all the legwork.”
“I see,” the woman murmured into the phone. “I think it’d be best if we reschedule, to give both of us more time to prepare ourselves for the meeting. We can meet with you, if your father doesn’t feel up to traveling at that time.”
Jazz breathed an internal sigh of relief, his eyes closing briefly as he nodded wordlessly to no one. “That works for me,” he said, his voice a little lighter than it had been, a moment ago. “When would you like to meet, then?”
As the woman suggested dates, Jazz looked over his father’s schedule. He had a long night ahead of him, rearranging all of his father’s contacts and meetings. He tried not to think about that as he blocked out a day for the Western colonies, thanking the woman on the other end profusely before they hung up on one another. The itinerary had so many other events blocked out, and Jazz felt his chest tighten and restrict.
If his father had died, this schedule would have been his. The whole Empire would have been his. Names and places dotted the itinerary, a great deal of which Jazz didn’t immediately recognize. How in the world did his father manage to keep everything straight?
The question lingered in his mind as he made phone call after phone call, rescheduling what he could and making notes on every bit of the itinerary for himself. Once they arrived at the Palace, his head swam with information and his skull pounded with lack of sleep. He knew he couldn’t sleep yet. Not until he had gotten everything squared away and everyone up to date on the situation as it stood now.
As the Guard escorted him back inside the Palace, Jazz placed his hands in his pockets and made sure to walk with confidence. They walked him back to his room, and he glanced over his father’s itinerary one last time. As they neared his apartment, the weight of the day’s events could be felt on his shoulders.
When he looked up from the schedule, he noticed Mitchel standing in front of his apartment door, just like he had that morning. Jazz’s jaw clenched as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Councilor Foraker,” he said with a slight nod of his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Is it alright if we have this conversation in private, Prince Jasper?” Mitchel asked, his voice as smooth as ever. He reached up, brushing an imaginary bit of dust off his shoulder. “Clearly, the Emperor’s Guard can trust you and I to be alone, for a few moments?”
Jazz frowned as he neared his apartment door. He glanced back at the Guard, which now only consisted of three men and two women. “You all are dismissed,” he said quietly, unlocking the deadbolt. “I’ll be leaving again in the morning at seven. Please, do not be late.”
The Guards nodded, stepping away from Mitchel and Jazz. “What is it that you really want, Mitchel?” Jazz asked once he was certain they were out of earshot. He stepped inside his apartment and gestured for the older man to follow.
“I wanted to speak with you,” Mitchel said, his own hand lingering on his tie. He stepped inside Jazz’s living quarters, a slight frown on his face as he turned to the side. “How’s your father?”
“He survived the surgery,” Jazz answered, making sure to keep his tone nice and even. He didn’t look at Mitchel as he moved further inside his apartment, heading towards the bedroom. He also made sure to shut the bedroom door behind him as he stripped out of his suit and into a pair of pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt.
When he emerged from the bedroom, Jazz noticed Mitchel standing in the middle of the hallway, his eyebrow raised at Jazz’s appearance. “And?” he prompted, slipping his hands inside his pockets. “How long will he need to recover?”
“A few weeks,” Jazz said, tugging on the hem of his shirt for a moment. He bit his lip and looked away from Mitchel. “Dr. Bates said it might take longer than that, depending on how long it’d take him to heal.”
Mitchel nodded, pursing his lips together in thought. “I see. Have you spoken with the colonies and the rest of Emperor Callahan’s contacts? Rescheduled meetings? Called an emergency Council meeting?”
“I’ve done the first and second thing, but I decided against the emergency Council meeting. Alexandra is with my dad at the hospital. She’s not going to get much sleep and the rest of the Council already knows that he’s been shot. I’ve sent them all messages to let them know that he survived and that we’ll meet again at the next scheduled meeting,” Jazz rambled off, crossing his arms over his chest. He pushed past Mitchel and back out into his living room, collapsing onto his threadbare couch. “I guess you didn’t get that message?”
“I did,” Mitchel answered, frowning a bit to himself. He followed Jazz into the living room slowly, keeping his distance and his eyes anywhere but on Jazz as he spoke. “I disagree with remaining with the same Council meeting schedule. You need to be caught up to speed with everything going on within the Empire -- an emergency Council meeting would be the best way to do that.”
“I am taking all of tomorrow to familiarize myself as much as possible with each individual issue my father has been trying to address this week alone,” Jazz said, running his fingers through his hair.
“I can assist you with that, if you need me to,” Mitchel offered, sounding nonchalant. He settled himself on the couch one seat over to Jazz’s left, crossing one leg over the other. “I can set my research aside for one day, if that’s the Prince’s wish.”
“I don’t need your help, Mitchel,” Jazz said quietly, throwing his head back against the couch. He looked towards the ceiling, feeling tears sting at his eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather be left alone until I have to go back to the hospital.”
“Are you sure?” Mitchel asked. He looked towards Jazz, his dark eyes flashing in the low light of Jazz’s apartment. “You seem quite upset. You can talk to me, if you want.”
“Mitchel, we broke up,” Jazz said, shaking his head. “This whole thing is confusing and my dad could have died, and -- I just, I need time to myself, okay?” He glanced at Mitchel and sighed. “I don’t think you should keep coming around to my apartment, anymore.”
Mitchel’s expression barely changed, though Jazz thought he saw Mitchel’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit. Mitchel then sighed and looked away, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow propped up against the arm of the couch. “I suppose I waited too long to tell you my feelings, then,” he said, pushing himself up to standing. He made his way to Jazz’s front door and stopped, turning to narrow his eyes at Jazz. “Did you really sleep with some other man, last night?”
Jazz blinked, the question throwing him off guard. He felt his face burn with guilt and he looked away from Mitchel, folding his arms over his chest as he did so. “Does it really matter if I did or not? I don’t want a relationship with you anymore, Mitchel. I already told you that.”
“What was the man’s name?” Mitchel asked, clearing his throat. “If you truly did sleep with someone else, what was the man’s name? Or did you even bother asking him for his before accepting the invitation into his bed?”
That time, Jazz could hear the biting tone to Mitchel’s words; the jealousy that lay beneath it. Jazz snorted to himself, shaking his head. “His name is Savin Bates,” he said, rising to his feet. He kept his arms crossed over his chest as he walked towards Mitchel, his eyes narrowed. “We had sex twice -- once in his bed, the other in his shower the next morning. He had these amazing green eyes and he was a little on the thin side. Is that enough ‘proof’ for you?”
Mitchel’s lips pursed together, forming a slight frown. He furrowed his brow in thought, looking away from Jazz. “This man -- you said his last name was Bates, correct?” Jazz nodded, feeling his features twist in confusion. “The doctor in charge of your father’s care -- wasn’t his last name also Bates?”
Jazz’s eyes widened, his face burning again. “Yes,” he said, biting his bottom lip.
Mitchel scoffed, shaking his head. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He let out a sharp laugh. “ It’s all too clear you’re lying about sleeping with someone else -- why else would your father’s surgeon and the man you slept with have the same last name?”
“Maybe because they’re the same person?” Jazz offered, letting out a bitter laugh of his own. He shook his head and ran his fingers over his hair. “If you really don’t believe me, Mitchel, that’s fine. But I have his number, and --”
“You seriously can’t believe you’ll see him again, can you?” Mitchel asked, cutting Jazz off. “If this other man truly existed, how are you even going to see him? Outside of the time you spend with your father in the hospital, that is. It’s not as though your father will simply grant him permission to walk inside the Palace -- and there’s no way that man would accept dates where the two of you would never truly be alone.”
Jazz bit his lip again, this time harder than before. Tears stung at his eyes, and he looked away from Mitchel. “I know you’re jealous, Mitchel, but --”
Mitchel snorted, effectively cutting Jazz off. “I am not jealous. I’m astounded, really, that all it took for you to move on from our relationship was to climb into bed with someone else. Does Bates even know that you just ended another relationship?”
Jazz shook his head. “Does it matter?” he shot back, narrowing his eyes at Mitchel. “It’s not like we were still together when I slept with him. It’s not like I cheated on you with him -- I’m single. You’re single. We can sleep with whoever we want. It doesn’t matter.”
Except guilt twisted at his insides, anyway, with the look Mitchel continued to give him. After a moment of silence, Mitchel just shook his head and turned on his heel. “Goodnight, Prince Jasper. Good luck with Dr. Bates -- if the man even exists.”
“Good fucking riddance,” Jazz muttered under his breath as Mitchel shut the door behind him. Anger built in his chest, threatening to escape as he, too, turned on his heel and headed back towards his bedroom. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and typed out a message to send to Mitchel, reading, Next time I see you at my apartment I’m calling the Guard, but thought better of the message and deleted it.
It was just a break-up, he reminded himself. Mitchel would get the point, eventually.
Right?
Next Chapter