Seize the Day - NaNoWriMo Attempt - Chapter 18
Now that I've officially won NaNo, I want to change gears and write something else, for a bit. Only one problem -- I don't know what to write! So here, enjoy this chapter of Seize the Day while I wrack my brain for ideas. xD
Previous Chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17
Jazz tapped his pen on top of the table, pursing his lips together for a moment and resisting the urge to suck on his bottom lip in thought. Mitchel sat in front of him, impeccably dressed as always, hair perfectly arranged on the top of his head. Weeks ago, Jazz would have done anything he could to play with the man’s hair, to make it just a little messier -- to prove that it could be messed up.
Now, the thought of doing so filled him with dread. Clearing his throat, Jazz looked away from the older man and focused his attention instead on the paperwork in front of him. “So what else is there that you believe I need to know about the Western Colonies?” he asked, toying with his pen between his fingers.
Mitchel drew in a deep breath, brushing his hair back and further out of his eyes as he relaxed in his seat. “You need to be aware that Laquesha Smith isn’t all that she appears to be. The woman is highly intelligent -- and she will give you a run for your money, if you’re not careful, Prince Jasper.”
Jazz nodded, putting his pen to the paper in front of him. “I’m more than well aware of how intelligent the woman is, and how much more practice she’s had at the political games than I have,” he admitted, his voice quiet in the large room. The Council room always felt so empty when it was only him and someone else inside the room. But at least it didn’t feel personal; didn’t feel homey. He could keep his guard up in here, keep Mitchel at arm’s length -- both literally and figuratively.
Mitchel nodded and leaned back in his seat, his hands still folded in front of him and resting on the thick wood of the table. “It’s too soon to know whether your plan for the West’s trade routes will work to bolster their economy,” he said, a warning note to his voice. “Do not deem anything a success with them until you’ve had plenty of information gathered over a lengthy period of time. Laquesha expects no less from me, so I would assume she’d expect as much care and consideration from you, as well.”
“Of course,” Jazz said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “I wouldn’t dream of saying any of my ideas were successful until I’ve had hard evidence to back those claims up, Mitchel. You know that.”
“Yes, but this is your first time being in charge of anything entirely on your own, Jasper,” Mitchel said, annoyance creeping into his tone. “You’re little stunt with running the Empire for your father, and the Empire coming out just as good for it as before, is no reason to grow cocky.”
Jazz let the jab slide and frowned to himself. He focused on the paper in front of him again, this time jotting something down in the brief silence that had consumed them both. “What about the Resistance?” Jazz dared to ask, lifting his head.
Mitchel’s eyes widened, just the slightest bit. “I thought you believed they weren’t a threat?” he murmured, tapping his fingers in a slow, deliberate cadence on the table-top. “Your father certainly seems to think so, and I would bet my salary that they were the ones behind his assassination attempt.”
“Like I said before, even if they were, we can’t prove that,” Jazz said, shaking his head. “And it doesn’t matter whether the Resistance is currently a threat to the Empire or not. They clearly exist. And if they were behind my father’s assassination attempt, then they’re becoming willing to let that fact be known to the general public. I need to know what I can about them, and why you think they might be based in the Western colonies.”
“It’s merely a hunch,” Mitchel said with a shrug of his shoulder. He avoided Jazz’s eyes as he spoke, instead looking at some point just below Jazz’s eye level. “The other colonies have not had nearly as much rebellious activity like the western colonies. The western colonies are also our newest conquest. They’re still not quite used to being under the Empire’s rule, so...”
“I see,” Jazz said with a sigh. He rubbed his forehead, his fingers moving towards his temples as a headache settled just between his eyes. “Is there anything I don’t already know or couldn’t figure out for myself, Mitchel, or are you just wasting my time?”
Mitchel blinked and he turned his head away from Jazz, an air of offense coming off of him. “Prince Jasper, if you’re not going to listen to me, then why even come?”
“I am listening to you -- you just haven’t told me anything I couldn’t already piece together myself. There’s nothing new here for me to go home with -- just the same old bullshit I was already made aware of when I ran the Empire for a few weeks by myself,” Jazz said, feeling as though a small dam had burst within his chest. He narrowed his eyes at Mitchel and pressed his lips together in anger. “So why did you really call this meeting with me, Mitchel? Why not just cut to the chase instead of humoring me, like you always do?”
“I only wanted to speak with you,” Mitchel answered, a slight frown on his face. He leaned forward, his hands still folded in front of him, his eyes focusing directly on Jazz’s for the first time since they sat down. “Also, I wanted to warn you -- please be careful with Ms. Smith’s interest in you. While I’m aware your father wouldn’t be opposed to a marriage between the two of you -- and she will demand one, should she feel she might remotely be able to do so -- I am also aware that you would, in fact, be opposed to this.”
Jazz wrinkled his nose, leaning back in his own seat and folding his arms over his chest. He gave a derisive snort of his own and shook his head. “I doubt her interest runs that deep, Mitchel,” he muttered, ignoring the bubble of fear building in his chest.
“Even so, your father’s still unaware that you have a new lover, yes?” Mitchel asked. A note of envy slipped into his tone as he lifted his chin in the air again, this time looking more offended than he sounded. “You and I both know that your father is growing restless for you to begin producing children of your own.”
“I’m only twenty-five, Mitchel,” Jazz growled, his arms tightening over his chest. “I’m too young to have children, and my father’s in excellent health -- Savin has said so himself, now that Dad’s recovered from his injuries.”
“Dr. Bates may be supplying you with false hope,” Mitchel said, his expression darkening. “You just met this man, Jasper. How can you trust anything that he says? He’s clearly only ever been interested in one thing since the moment he met you.”
“You’re forgetting that I was the one who approached him for sex, first,” Jazz murmured, feeling a partial smile twist his features as tears of frustration stung at his eyes. “If he’s a bad person because he wanted to have a one-night stand with me, then I’m equally guilty for that.”
Mitchel’s frown deepened as he dropped his gaze from Jazz’s. He threw back his shoulders, holding himself up straight. “I see,” he said, clearing his throat. “Then why are the two of you dating, if all you wanted was a one night stand?”
Jazz narrowed his eyes at Mitchel before picking up his paperwork in a huff. “That’s none of your business, Mitchel,” he snipped, standing up from his seat. “If you have nothing else of importance to say, then I’m going home. I have more important things to do than to be chastised by my ex-boyfriend.”
“It’s a legitimate question, Jasper,” Mitchel said, exasperation creeping into his voice. “Dr. Bates is merely a rebound for you. It won’t last, and I wouldn’t go getting either one of your hopes up that it will. Tell me, do the two of you even have anything in common?”
“It’s none of your business, Mitchel,” Jazz repeated, shaking his head. “Does it even matter if he’s a rebound or not? If our relationship lasts or not? I’m still in a relationship with him, right at this very second, and I would like to keep it that way.” His voice wavered as he spoke, more tears threatening to escape his eyes as he glared at Mitchel. He shook his head again, pulling his paperwork to his chest. “So please stop it with your -- ‘concern’.”
Mitchel didn’t have the chance to respond, not as Jazz then turned on his heel and stormed out of the Council room, slamming the thick, ornate door behind him. Tears rolled down his face as he made his way down the hallway to his room, but he ignored those as he chewed his bottom lip into oblivion.
He managed to regain control of his breathing and wipe away his tears before he pulled his keys from his pocket. Savin should still be inside when he opened the door, as the older man claimed to only be on-call that day and not scheduled for work. He could relax. He could sit on the couch and read, Savin’s head in his lap as the older man watched something on the tele-screen.
When he opened the door, though, he noticed Savin wasn’t sitting on the couch. Any signs that the older man had even been in Jazz’s room seemed to have disappeared, including the shoes Savin had a habit of leaving by the front door. Jazz frowned and shut the door quietly behind him. “Savin?” he called cautiously, hoping his voice carried and didn’t waver like he felt it did.
As Jazz walked into the kitchen, he noticed that the dishes they had dirtied were all washed and neatly stacked in the dish rack beside the sink. Sighing, Jazz pulled out his phone. No messages were left, no missed calls recorded. He put the phone to his ear after dialing Savin’s number.
“Hey,” Savin’s voice came through loud and clear on the other end. “Sorry, I had to go take care of something real quick at the hospital. I should only be about another hour.”
“You couldn’t have left me a message?” Jazz asked, feeling his irritation build at the front of his skull. He rubbed his forehead and willed his tears away.
“I thought I left a note?” Savin countered, sounding confused on the other end. He spoke in hushed tones, as though he didn’t want anyone to overhear his conversation, either. And perhaps he didn’t. “Like I said, though, I should be back within an hour. How did your meetings go?”
Jazz tensed, biting his lip for a moment and raking his nails along his scalp. “They went...okay,” he said with a sigh. “Mitchel was a dick, as usual. He seems to think that I can’t handle the responsibility of being the main contact between the Empire and the Western colonies.”
“Of course he does,” Savin muttered with a derisive snort. “Anyway, I have to go. Bye, Jazz.”
“See ya, Savin.” Jazz heard the unmistakable click of the line going dead and sighed, tapping his phone against his forehead for a minute. He then headed towards the bedroom, relieved to see a piece of paper folded in half resting inconspicuously on top of his bed. Savin hadn’t been lying then, about leaving a note. Judging by the uneven scrawl on the paper in question, Savin had been in a hurry, too.
Left alone with his thoughts, Jazz tried to focus on Savin coming back within an hour as opposed to Mitchel’s warning about Laquesha Smith. His stomach twisted at the mere thought of marrying someone he barely knew -- especially if that person happened to be a woman. The fact that Mitchel seemed to think his father would force Jazz into a marriage he didn’t want...
Jazz shook his head, settling down into the bed and pulling the covers up and around himself. He didn’t need to think about that. Didn’t want to think about that. He wouldn’t let his father bully him. And maybe, after having run the Empire for a couple of weeks without his father’s immediate input, his father could trust him to find a way around the heir problem without Jazz having to compromise his own happiness, in order to continue on the family name.
These thoughts consumed him, each one swooping in after the other until he heard a soft knock on his front door. Jazz startled, eyes snapping open as his heart leapt into his throat, if only for a minute. He then glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sighed -- had it been an hour already? It wasn’t as though Savin had a key, either, and could simply let himself back in after leaving.
Slowly, Jazz pulled himself out of bed, moving quickly towards the front door. He could feel his heart skip beats in his chest in anticipation, as though he were some mere child with a crush. He brushed that thought aside, too, smiling widely as he opened the door in front of him.
“Prince Jasper.” And just like that, his smile faded as Jazz noticed his father standing in front of the door. “I think, perhaps, you and I need to have a talk.”
Next Chapter
Previous Chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17
Jazz tapped his pen on top of the table, pursing his lips together for a moment and resisting the urge to suck on his bottom lip in thought. Mitchel sat in front of him, impeccably dressed as always, hair perfectly arranged on the top of his head. Weeks ago, Jazz would have done anything he could to play with the man’s hair, to make it just a little messier -- to prove that it could be messed up.
Now, the thought of doing so filled him with dread. Clearing his throat, Jazz looked away from the older man and focused his attention instead on the paperwork in front of him. “So what else is there that you believe I need to know about the Western Colonies?” he asked, toying with his pen between his fingers.
Mitchel drew in a deep breath, brushing his hair back and further out of his eyes as he relaxed in his seat. “You need to be aware that Laquesha Smith isn’t all that she appears to be. The woman is highly intelligent -- and she will give you a run for your money, if you’re not careful, Prince Jasper.”
Jazz nodded, putting his pen to the paper in front of him. “I’m more than well aware of how intelligent the woman is, and how much more practice she’s had at the political games than I have,” he admitted, his voice quiet in the large room. The Council room always felt so empty when it was only him and someone else inside the room. But at least it didn’t feel personal; didn’t feel homey. He could keep his guard up in here, keep Mitchel at arm’s length -- both literally and figuratively.
Mitchel nodded and leaned back in his seat, his hands still folded in front of him and resting on the thick wood of the table. “It’s too soon to know whether your plan for the West’s trade routes will work to bolster their economy,” he said, a warning note to his voice. “Do not deem anything a success with them until you’ve had plenty of information gathered over a lengthy period of time. Laquesha expects no less from me, so I would assume she’d expect as much care and consideration from you, as well.”
“Of course,” Jazz said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “I wouldn’t dream of saying any of my ideas were successful until I’ve had hard evidence to back those claims up, Mitchel. You know that.”
“Yes, but this is your first time being in charge of anything entirely on your own, Jasper,” Mitchel said, annoyance creeping into his tone. “You’re little stunt with running the Empire for your father, and the Empire coming out just as good for it as before, is no reason to grow cocky.”
Jazz let the jab slide and frowned to himself. He focused on the paper in front of him again, this time jotting something down in the brief silence that had consumed them both. “What about the Resistance?” Jazz dared to ask, lifting his head.
Mitchel’s eyes widened, just the slightest bit. “I thought you believed they weren’t a threat?” he murmured, tapping his fingers in a slow, deliberate cadence on the table-top. “Your father certainly seems to think so, and I would bet my salary that they were the ones behind his assassination attempt.”
“Like I said before, even if they were, we can’t prove that,” Jazz said, shaking his head. “And it doesn’t matter whether the Resistance is currently a threat to the Empire or not. They clearly exist. And if they were behind my father’s assassination attempt, then they’re becoming willing to let that fact be known to the general public. I need to know what I can about them, and why you think they might be based in the Western colonies.”
“It’s merely a hunch,” Mitchel said with a shrug of his shoulder. He avoided Jazz’s eyes as he spoke, instead looking at some point just below Jazz’s eye level. “The other colonies have not had nearly as much rebellious activity like the western colonies. The western colonies are also our newest conquest. They’re still not quite used to being under the Empire’s rule, so...”
“I see,” Jazz said with a sigh. He rubbed his forehead, his fingers moving towards his temples as a headache settled just between his eyes. “Is there anything I don’t already know or couldn’t figure out for myself, Mitchel, or are you just wasting my time?”
Mitchel blinked and he turned his head away from Jazz, an air of offense coming off of him. “Prince Jasper, if you’re not going to listen to me, then why even come?”
“I am listening to you -- you just haven’t told me anything I couldn’t already piece together myself. There’s nothing new here for me to go home with -- just the same old bullshit I was already made aware of when I ran the Empire for a few weeks by myself,” Jazz said, feeling as though a small dam had burst within his chest. He narrowed his eyes at Mitchel and pressed his lips together in anger. “So why did you really call this meeting with me, Mitchel? Why not just cut to the chase instead of humoring me, like you always do?”
“I only wanted to speak with you,” Mitchel answered, a slight frown on his face. He leaned forward, his hands still folded in front of him, his eyes focusing directly on Jazz’s for the first time since they sat down. “Also, I wanted to warn you -- please be careful with Ms. Smith’s interest in you. While I’m aware your father wouldn’t be opposed to a marriage between the two of you -- and she will demand one, should she feel she might remotely be able to do so -- I am also aware that you would, in fact, be opposed to this.”
Jazz wrinkled his nose, leaning back in his own seat and folding his arms over his chest. He gave a derisive snort of his own and shook his head. “I doubt her interest runs that deep, Mitchel,” he muttered, ignoring the bubble of fear building in his chest.
“Even so, your father’s still unaware that you have a new lover, yes?” Mitchel asked. A note of envy slipped into his tone as he lifted his chin in the air again, this time looking more offended than he sounded. “You and I both know that your father is growing restless for you to begin producing children of your own.”
“I’m only twenty-five, Mitchel,” Jazz growled, his arms tightening over his chest. “I’m too young to have children, and my father’s in excellent health -- Savin has said so himself, now that Dad’s recovered from his injuries.”
“Dr. Bates may be supplying you with false hope,” Mitchel said, his expression darkening. “You just met this man, Jasper. How can you trust anything that he says? He’s clearly only ever been interested in one thing since the moment he met you.”
“You’re forgetting that I was the one who approached him for sex, first,” Jazz murmured, feeling a partial smile twist his features as tears of frustration stung at his eyes. “If he’s a bad person because he wanted to have a one-night stand with me, then I’m equally guilty for that.”
Mitchel’s frown deepened as he dropped his gaze from Jazz’s. He threw back his shoulders, holding himself up straight. “I see,” he said, clearing his throat. “Then why are the two of you dating, if all you wanted was a one night stand?”
Jazz narrowed his eyes at Mitchel before picking up his paperwork in a huff. “That’s none of your business, Mitchel,” he snipped, standing up from his seat. “If you have nothing else of importance to say, then I’m going home. I have more important things to do than to be chastised by my ex-boyfriend.”
“It’s a legitimate question, Jasper,” Mitchel said, exasperation creeping into his voice. “Dr. Bates is merely a rebound for you. It won’t last, and I wouldn’t go getting either one of your hopes up that it will. Tell me, do the two of you even have anything in common?”
“It’s none of your business, Mitchel,” Jazz repeated, shaking his head. “Does it even matter if he’s a rebound or not? If our relationship lasts or not? I’m still in a relationship with him, right at this very second, and I would like to keep it that way.” His voice wavered as he spoke, more tears threatening to escape his eyes as he glared at Mitchel. He shook his head again, pulling his paperwork to his chest. “So please stop it with your -- ‘concern’.”
Mitchel didn’t have the chance to respond, not as Jazz then turned on his heel and stormed out of the Council room, slamming the thick, ornate door behind him. Tears rolled down his face as he made his way down the hallway to his room, but he ignored those as he chewed his bottom lip into oblivion.
He managed to regain control of his breathing and wipe away his tears before he pulled his keys from his pocket. Savin should still be inside when he opened the door, as the older man claimed to only be on-call that day and not scheduled for work. He could relax. He could sit on the couch and read, Savin’s head in his lap as the older man watched something on the tele-screen.
When he opened the door, though, he noticed Savin wasn’t sitting on the couch. Any signs that the older man had even been in Jazz’s room seemed to have disappeared, including the shoes Savin had a habit of leaving by the front door. Jazz frowned and shut the door quietly behind him. “Savin?” he called cautiously, hoping his voice carried and didn’t waver like he felt it did.
As Jazz walked into the kitchen, he noticed that the dishes they had dirtied were all washed and neatly stacked in the dish rack beside the sink. Sighing, Jazz pulled out his phone. No messages were left, no missed calls recorded. He put the phone to his ear after dialing Savin’s number.
“Hey,” Savin’s voice came through loud and clear on the other end. “Sorry, I had to go take care of something real quick at the hospital. I should only be about another hour.”
“You couldn’t have left me a message?” Jazz asked, feeling his irritation build at the front of his skull. He rubbed his forehead and willed his tears away.
“I thought I left a note?” Savin countered, sounding confused on the other end. He spoke in hushed tones, as though he didn’t want anyone to overhear his conversation, either. And perhaps he didn’t. “Like I said, though, I should be back within an hour. How did your meetings go?”
Jazz tensed, biting his lip for a moment and raking his nails along his scalp. “They went...okay,” he said with a sigh. “Mitchel was a dick, as usual. He seems to think that I can’t handle the responsibility of being the main contact between the Empire and the Western colonies.”
“Of course he does,” Savin muttered with a derisive snort. “Anyway, I have to go. Bye, Jazz.”
“See ya, Savin.” Jazz heard the unmistakable click of the line going dead and sighed, tapping his phone against his forehead for a minute. He then headed towards the bedroom, relieved to see a piece of paper folded in half resting inconspicuously on top of his bed. Savin hadn’t been lying then, about leaving a note. Judging by the uneven scrawl on the paper in question, Savin had been in a hurry, too.
Left alone with his thoughts, Jazz tried to focus on Savin coming back within an hour as opposed to Mitchel’s warning about Laquesha Smith. His stomach twisted at the mere thought of marrying someone he barely knew -- especially if that person happened to be a woman. The fact that Mitchel seemed to think his father would force Jazz into a marriage he didn’t want...
Jazz shook his head, settling down into the bed and pulling the covers up and around himself. He didn’t need to think about that. Didn’t want to think about that. He wouldn’t let his father bully him. And maybe, after having run the Empire for a couple of weeks without his father’s immediate input, his father could trust him to find a way around the heir problem without Jazz having to compromise his own happiness, in order to continue on the family name.
These thoughts consumed him, each one swooping in after the other until he heard a soft knock on his front door. Jazz startled, eyes snapping open as his heart leapt into his throat, if only for a minute. He then glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sighed -- had it been an hour already? It wasn’t as though Savin had a key, either, and could simply let himself back in after leaving.
Slowly, Jazz pulled himself out of bed, moving quickly towards the front door. He could feel his heart skip beats in his chest in anticipation, as though he were some mere child with a crush. He brushed that thought aside, too, smiling widely as he opened the door in front of him.
“Prince Jasper.” And just like that, his smile faded as Jazz noticed his father standing in front of the door. “I think, perhaps, you and I need to have a talk.”
Next Chapter