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FICTION: Beads Part 7: Morocco

Published: April 1, 2005
Section: Arts, Etc.


Sunlight flooded the room through the open window. A chilly spring breeze blew in, fluttering the curtains and several open folders on the desk. A half-packed suitcase lay open on the bed, amidst neatly folded clothing and other miscellaneous trinkets.

Humming to herself, Ophelia came through the door, throwing two magazines into the suitcase. She gathered the papers from the desk, careful to arrange them neatly into a handbag she had brought in. As she turned her attention to the bed, her cell phone rang.

Ophelia reached into her pocket taking out a slim silver phone. Scanning the caller ID, she sighed. Ill be down in fifteen minutes, she informed the person on the other end, and listened briefly at their response. Great. Seeya soon.

She placed the cell phone on the desk as she finished packing the suitcase. It was the same suitcase that had given her so much trouble over the past few days, only this time she knew its contents.

Much to Crawfords dismay, Ophelia had insisted on returning all the stolen property from the Beads. She argued with him for several hours, outlining the reasons she didnt particularly want to take up a life of crime, but it was a losing argument. Crawford had only to remind her she had already chosen that path when she agreed to help him with the job, but Ophelia then only retorted that a real criminal life was not as glamorous as the movies made it out to be.
She smiled as she remembered Crawfords charming smile as he admitted that actually, she was right, and it was even better than the movies.

Ophelia took the elevator down, straightening her jacket and nervously fidgeting with all its buttons. She didnt exactly know why she decided to go along with Crawfords preposterous plan, but she was certain he had some sort of magical power over her.

Chuckling over her thoughts, Ophelia stepped out into the hotel lobby, her heels clicking on the shiny floor. Crawford was waiting for her, sitting comfortably in a chair in front of the lobbys fireplace. He was sharply dressed, she noted, admiring his white suit.

Not many people out there that can pull that off, she told him.
No, there arent, thats true, he replied, his ever confident smile back on his lips. There was a small awkward pause, then Ophelia leaned in and kissed him. Crawford held her tightly, and it seemed to her that the surrounding world simply faded away.

For the first time in months, she felt safe.

A few moments later, Crawford let go of his embrace and helped her with the suitcase. They walked out together.

Im glad I changed my mind Ophelia began, frowning indecisively, I think.
Crawfords laugh echoed in the lobby. Giving her a wink as he slipped through the revolving doors, he said, Me, too, baby. Me, too.

Ophelia ran out after him, grabbing a hold of his arm. You knew what I was gonna do the whole time, didnt you?

No, not the whole time. But most of it.

Hey! she giggled, playfully slapping his shoulder, Shut up!

Its like I told you before. It isnt stealing. Ophelia looked away, suddenly serious. Crawford pressed on, gently. If they had known that you survived
I would have inherited all of it, yeah, I get that part, she said, blinking back the smallest hint of tears. I just wish they had known. And that we didnt have to sneak around for the rest of our lives.

Lia, look at me. He set the suitcase down and waited.

Yes?

There is no other woman Id rather be sneaking around the world with.
A smile formed on her lips. She looked around, taking the expensive L.A. scene in, and then hugged him.

Shut up, she mumbled, chuckling into his shoulder.

Well he started, as both of them got into the waiting limo, Morocco, here we come!

– The End