Burnt Sugar - Part 1 (standard:romance, 2188 words) [1/7] show all parts
Author: damnation	Updated: Jan 23 2010	Views/Reads: 3395/2009	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Kitchen humour, drama and mystery are blended to form a complex cocktail of romantic love between Frances and Kristen.

Disclaimers: This is an alternate fiction which portrays loving
relationships between people of the same gender. Please do not go 
further if this offends you because you offend me. 

Do not re-post this anywhere else without the permission of the author.
That would be me, yes. 

The plotline and all characters belong to me. Thanks to somebody (you
know who you are), I have been extremely enthralled by the Otalia arc 
in Guiding Light, so some of my characters might physically resemble 
the two very stunning individuals in the famous pairing--except that in 
this case, they are mine to play with. 

Burnt Sugar - Part 1 

by 

d a m n a t i o n 

shag_chic@hotmail.com 

Prologue 

Mist hung over the Hoan Kiem lake in the early hours of dawn. A pair of
jeans clad legs raised slowly onto a bench seat and pulled close to a 
heaving chest, wet cheeks and quivering lips, bracketed by a pair of 
arms. 

There was hardly anyone around this part of the lake even though most of
the Old Quarters in Hanoi had already awakened to a new day. Frances 
Russell blew out a breath before wiping a sleeve across her face. It 
was the third anniversary of her mother's death but she wept as though 
no time had passed since Marie Garcia was taken away from her in a 
fatal car crash. Indeed, the first six months to a year after her 
mother's death had flown by in such a blur that there were times 
Frances had to question if she had dreamt it all up. 

Frances lowered her right leg briefly as she dug into her jeans pocket
for a folded piece of paper. It was something that she had written for 
her mother. Upon locating it, she leaned forward on the bench and 
ignited her lighter. The naked flame caught the paper and ate up her 
words slowly. Then, before it fully burned away, Frances stood up and 
dropped the very last bit of the still burning paper into the lake. 

She pressed her palms flat together and brought her hands to touch her
nose and lips as she murmured, "I miss you, Mum," under her breath. 
Then she stuck her hands in her jeans pockets and blew out a heavy 
breath. 

She was on the next flight back to Australia and it wasn't exactly a
trip she was looking forward to. 

1 

Kevin Russell shot his soon to be ex-employee, Alison, a disdainful look
when she threw her apron onto the bench in a huff. She was the third 
girl in a fortnight to have quit, not turned up for work, or thrown a 
hissy fit before stalking out of Taters. He just managed to smother a 
yawn when she stormed out, leaving a trail of obscenities in her wake. 

"Show's over, folks," he announced to the stunned patrons of his little
cafe restaurant. "You can return to your meals now." 

Stalking back into the kitchen, Russell reached for the bottle of
bourbon on the shelf beside him and took a swig. 

"Uh... Boss?" a tentative voice interrupted him mid-swallow. "I don't
mean to say this but... there's no one out front now that, uh, you- 
Alison's gone...." 

Russell finished swallowing the bourbon and slowly wiped an arm across
his lips. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled loudly. 
Good help was extinct these days. He turned around to meet the rather 
frightened gaze of John Ramsey, one of the two chefs who worked under 
him. 


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