"But hers was a strange heart, sad in its very nature, and she could never weep and ease it as other women do, for her tears never brought her comfort." -- Pearl S. Buck, The Good Earth

Keegan Draesia was an odd young man, almost as odd as his name implied. Like so many in Aubrey Parish, he had been born there and didn't know much about life outside of the small town aside from what he'd seen on the TV. While some young people from Aubrey decided to head for the big city, college, or the military as soon as they turned eighteen, Keegan Draesia had absolutely no desire to leave.

What he wanted, more than anything, was to become a chef.

It was a dream that was evident at a relatively early age. Keegan was always a thin, spindly sort of boy, pale, and relatively unskilled at athletics. He was the kind of kid who preferred the company of a few friends doing the things he enjoyed the most, rather than hanging out and pretending to have spirit for whatever the majority of kids his age were into.

Keegan's family wasn't a wealthy one by any means, but they weren't poor and struggling to put food on the table like the families of so many of his classmates. They lived in a nice house not far from the library, not out towards the forest and the swamplands where land was plentiful and shacks were cheap and multiplied. Some didn't even have so much as electricity or running water. Keegan could always tell the kids who lived in those houses. They came to school with dirt on their faces and dried brown mud caked on the bottom of worn boots. He felt sorry for them, but didn't know what to do to make it better.

Mia and Ambrose Draesia were good parents, the kind where one was always home so Keegan didn't have too many hours unattended. Mia was a stay-at-home mom; aside from Keegan, she had 3 boys and two girls to keep an eye on. The television was often on in the kitchen behind the constant hum of activity, and it was the cooking shows that caught his eye. Keegan would methodically copy down the recipes, some using exotic ingredients hard to get in a small town in Louisiana. He didn't mind. One day, he promised himself, he'd have a beautiful kitchen with rare and special ingredients and a woman like his mother who enjoyed keeping an immaculate home that the neighbours envied.

Ambrose Draesia worked for Aubrey Parish, helping to maintain many of the area's historical buildings. When it was time for a building to come down, he worked laboriously to save as much of the original structure and contents as he could. Splintered wood that had stood for two centuries would be sanded, varnished, and turned into flooring. Tarnished metal would be soaked in a solution that magically peeled away decades. Ambrose was the kind of man who saw beauty in history and believed in the kind of world where things weren't just thrown away and replaced. Everything had its use. It was backbreaking work for both Ambrose and Mia, but unlike so many, they were happy.

Ambrose put his foot down when it came to his eldest son putting on an apron and a white hat. No son of his was going to spend his life in a kitchen, serving other people their meals like a housewife or a slave. It was a phase, Ambrose insisted, and he'd grow out of it. 

As the years passed, Keegan never grew out of it. He read all the books he could about cooking and baking, and asked questions at the restaurants around town. It was Chance, the owner of Mudbugs, who first noticed the boy's curiosity. 

"Tell you what," Chance leaned over the bar to Mia one afternoon when she'd gone to meet the man Keegan had been spending so much time with. "Young man is fourteen. That's old enough for some part-time work. He helps out round the place, I teach him what he wants to know about cooking. Not that anyone needs to know 'bout that." It was rough being a teenager, and Keegan was the kind who was already too thin, too pale, almost feminine in his features. Chance understood the boy not wanting to get beat up for wanting to learn to cook. Keegan never mentioned it was his dad that scared him the most.

By the time he was out of school, Keegan Draesia was a sous chef at Mudbugs. By twenty-five, he was the executive chef and solely responsible for planning the menus. By the time Keegan had to tell Ambrose his little secret, his food was good enough that no one kicked his ass for wanting to be a chef. Ambrose told anyone and everyone about his son and Chance and how Mudbugs was the finest establishment in the Parish.

At twenty-five, Keegan Draesia was one of the success stories in Aubrey Parish. While he never did grow much taller or get much fatter, and he was still pale and spindly, he compensated by toning his chest and arms. He could run faster than most anyone around, and in a typical show of testosterone-induced decision-making, he tattooed curious black lines on his arms that were either meant to resemble an animal or a tribal pattern.

With the help of Chance and Ambrose, the much neglected third floor of Mudbugs was emptied of years of boxes and cobwebs, and restored into a simple but homey apartment for Keegan. For the most part he was happy. It was rare a girl caught his attention, and the last one who had meant anything serious disappeared in a fit of anger.

It's for the best, he told himself on a regular basis. It wouldn't be fair to try to love her. She's not my Ava.

Even when he finally went to talk to Ava about Azzie, it just wasn't right. Nothing about it had felt right. Ava understood, the way he knew she would.. On some level, she was happy that he was so besotted with the sweet redhead who was like in her so many ways and yet so different in others.

When Keegan spoke of wanting to marry Azzie, he could hear the tears in Ava's voice as she gave her blessing. In her usual whispered voice, Ava asked if he could wear one pink rose, just for her.

She wanted him to have the happiness that wasn't meant for her.

Keegan had loved Azzie Parker, more than he would admit. He still did. He wanted a life with her, a home like his parents had, Every day, he would stand in front of Mudbugs, eyes watching. Part of him was still waiting for the day Azzie would come by, almost skipping through the puddles.

Things wouldn't work out, he repeated to himself many times. Things won't work out because Azzie can't let go of Mr. Grimm. She'll always need him more.

It wasn't just jealousy that kept Keegan and Azzie stubbornly apart. It was knowing.

Keegan knew the way Azzie felt about Mr. Grimm was the way he felt about Ava. He couldn't imagine letting go.

Strangely, Keegan met Ava the day of his high school graduation. Looking back, he often thought of her as the best gift he could have ever been given that day. While some other boys got cars or motorcycles or tickets out of town, Keegan got Ava. It was the best day of his young life.

It was tradition for the young men of Aubrey Parish to celebrate their high school graduation and impending freedom by trying to get into The Red Question. It became such a tradition, eventually, the girls started joining in. For most of them, it was a welcome introduction to a more grown-up world. A man would usually buy them a proper drink instead of whatever they'd already tried at home, pilfered from their parents' liquor cabinet and mixed with Sprite. They'd see how grown-up women flirted, dressed, even notice some of the girls who danced there for money. Most remembered the admonitions to never do that, because bad things could happen to that kind of girl. Most were lucky enough to leave with a hangover and a few phone numbers, and to never run into Victor Zenkova or see what went on above the second floor. The bouncers were good like that.

For the boys, the experience was a little different. It was a rite of passage passed down from father to son, brother to brother. Sometimes, the younger boy would receive a bit of money just to have his first real experience at the Red Question. For boys like Keegan, being given a stack of small bills, a condom, and a pat on the back from their dad was less encouraging than overwhelming.

Keegan watched the women wrapping around the pole, and on the nearby furniture, wrapping around each other in ways that displayed their bodies with some implicit, unspoken dare. Everything about the scene made him more afraid than aroused, yet he didn't leave. Especially when a man would join the women and suddenly the snake-like movements became cries of ecstasy, he wanted to know everything. The women seemed to hold the key to a treasure trove of secrets, and he felt his body burning and his face blushing.

As he was standing against the wall, his eyes looked up and saw a sweet-faced, voluptuous woman on top of the piano. She didn't look much older than Keegan, and her figure was appealing in a way that was shapely, but not so thin that it lost the inviting softness Keegan was instinctively drawn to. Her crimson lips were something to stare at. They seemed to match the moans and giggles that punctuated the room. His face on fire, his eyes moved down to the perfectly straight jet-black hair and black silk robe she wore, tied together loosely with a white sash. Her tiny feet had high heeled maribou slippers dangling from them. She was a scene from an old black and white movie, but the movies back then never showed what came next. Watching her, Keegan's entire body and mind lit up with a need to know everything about what came next.

Startled, he jumps as a half-naked blonde approached him with two flutes of champagne. She is dressed in so little she might as well be naked. Keegan isn't sure where his eyes go. "The new ones are always adorable," the woman laughs, a teasing note in her voice. "The one over there on the piano, that's Ava. This building has five floors, all different. You're on the third. Anywhere on the third, fourth, or fifth, when you see a girl," The woman pauses, taking a long look at Keegan for a moment. "Or a boy--anyone you like, you don't stare. That's creepy. Being all creepy gets the attention of the bouncers. You buy a special glass of champagne from one of the servers and give it to the person you want to know better. Simple, right? These are on me."

"What's so special about it?" Keegan turns to ask the blonde woman, trying his best only to look at faces. Almost as quickly as she arrived, though, she is gone. In this little world, time is money, and money is pleasure, and pleasure is everything.

Looking over the railing to the first floor, Keegan catches a glimpse of his friend Liam, who is dancing on a table without a shirt, but still wearing a tie. The boy looks ridiculous, but is blissfully happy. Keegan wishes he knew how to be that free-spirited. He takes a sip from one of the glasses he hopes is for him. Was he supposed to give glasses to two women? Was he supposed to offer one to the lady who disappeared? He still didn't quite understand, but he liked the taste of champagne, and drained half the glass before moving over to where Ava sat on the piano.

"Hello." His greeting is shy and awkward, though she still looks up. Holding out the glass, he says nervously, "My name is Keegan. Would you do me the honour of having champagne with me?"

Ava slides off the piano, moving close enough to him to hear his heat racing, something that makes him feel self-conscious. She sips the champagne, a silent answer to his question. "Hello, Keegan. I'm Ava. It's very wonderful to meet you. I've never seen you before."

The sound of Ava's voice is shocking. She doesn't have the sultry, self-assured tone he'd imagined. Instead, she speaks in a voice barely above a whisper. Looking at her up close, he sees she is smaller, younger, more like him than he thought she would be. For a moment, he is less afraid. She takes his hand in his, and whispers, "Come with me. There are too many noises and distractions here. I don't really like noise and crowds very much."

Keegan follows Ava up two winding flights of stairs, until he finally reaches a space with red wallpaper. There are a variety of entrances, all shaped like question marks. A very clever touch, Keegan thinks to himself.

Ava didn't say a word as she opens one of the question doors, walking into a room large enough to be a whole floor combined. While the other side of the landing led to three question-shaped rooms, the side to which Ava moved led to only one.

He begins to shuffle his feet nervously, drinking from the glass of champagne in his hand. "This room is like nothing I've ever seen before," Keegan's words are a kind of breathlessness, the result of sensory over-stimulation and confusion settling in all at the same time. Looking around, the room is one filled with heavy draperies, ornate antique couches, fresh flowers, furniture that did not look like any furniture Keegan had ever seen. He wants to ask what things are, but he doesn't. He doesn't want her thinking him more clueless than she already must.

There is even a round bed, covered with a fuzzy zebra comforter and pillow shams, more modern than everything else, but unique nonetheless. The entire centre of the room had been carved out by a large hot tub, the kind he'd seen in history books. Keegan could picture a tall Greek woman in the image of Aphrodite sitting on one of the steps, legs dangling in the water as servants fed her grapes. It is the stuff of legends in Keegan's mind, only it was real, and in a place like Aubrey Parish.

Ava's hand wraps around his, and she locks the door to the room, which made him tremble a bit. Quietly, she leads him to the circular bed, sitting close to him. Ava was really close, and he finished the glass of champagne. With a soft giggle, she starts to explain things in her secretive whisper. "The glasses of champagne aren't for you, sweet one. You will feel all tingly and buzzy and weird for a while. There's a tiny bit of opium in each of those. It's the house special. It sometimes makes life--well, easier. It's always easier for everyone when you aren't always thinking."

Keegan looks at the empty glass, a moment of panic in his eyes, before she quickly answers. "It's alright. I'll make sure you get another glass, but don't tell anyone. You give them to anyone you'd like to get to know better, like you just did. You buy them from the waiters and waitresses on the top floors, and they are three hundred dollars each. If someone accepts your glass, it means you've paid for an hour of their time. What you do with that hour, that's between you and that person. It's not always the same. "

Ava moves over to a small bar, and returns with a bottle of champagne. Pointing it toward the hot tub, she giggles as the cork goes flying and bounces off a wall. The bubbly liquid flows faster than she can get to the glass she is holding, adding a sweetly sticky scent and flavour to Ava. "This is just regular champagne. I like the taste. The bubbles, too. Bubbles are fun!"

"There was a woman who gave me two. I thought one was for me." His eyes meet Ava's and he blushes slightly.

Ava's soft laughter is the only sound in the room. His eyes focus on the white sash that holds the black robe around Ava's figure, the places it parts to reveal perfect skin the colour of ivory. "No. She must have liked you very much. It means she offered you two different experiences here. Visiting with two different people at the same time is a memorable night for most. I am not allowed to do that, though, if that's what you're looking for."

Keegan's mind is fuzzy, and he says the first thing that pops into his mind. "Why?" He looks at the ground, thinking it wasn't really the right thing to say but unsure why it wasn't. "I mean, I don't want that. I wanted to meet you. I would give you both glasses of champagne because you're beautiful. But why do some people do things and others aren't allowed?"

There are bolts of electricity moving through his body as Ava's fingers caress the side of his cheek. "That's very complicated, but no one here does anything they don't want to do. That's why it's not personal if someone doesn't accept your glass. I think I am not supposed to because the owner of this place wants to keep me safe. I am not allowed to accept too many glasses or play some of the games the others do." Ava's words pause, and he is anxious for them to continue. "I am supposed to be a thing people can look at but not touch. I couldn't stand the idea of saying no to you. though. You look too sweet. I don't know why you picked me, though. The young ones usually never do. They want someone older, more experienced."

Keegan fidgets, eyes glancing at her, seeing things he knows he shouldn't. He couldn't imagine being able to be with anyone more experienced and there wasn't anyone else he wanted. "I..don't know. You looked like a painting or a picture from an old movie. I don't really know how this all works or what you would say or do. I just wanted to be closer to you." There is silence, and Keegan hopes that wasn't an offensive kind of answer.

"Do you live here? In this room with a hot tub and a circle bed?" His eyes dart around nervously, not knowing exactly what he is allowed to do or say, just that he doesn't ever want to leave this room. He can feel her hands pull away from his and start to move over his thin shape, suddenly extraordinarily conscious of his body and the way it reacts to every touch of her hands. "I have gone on dates with a few other girls before, girls my age, from school. Their hands never felt like yours do." Keegan's eyes look away, not knowing what to do with the heat rising in his body everywhere.

"I do live here. It's a unique place, but it's pretty. I don't have company that often so it's nice to share it with someone who likes it too." Ava giggles and there is the sound of a button going "pop" as she starts to undress him. "Come on! We need to take your clothes off so we can go in the hot tub together. Do you like hot tubs? I think it's very relaxing and nice." She takes the champagne glass from his hand and exchanges it with her own. When he looks up at her emerald eyes questioningly, she says, "You need this. You are all nervous and jumpy and it's adorable, but I want you to be happy you're here with me."

Keegan obediently sips the glass of special champagne, his body tensing and relaxing as Ava undresses him, peeling the layers of clothing off like an onion. The words tumble from his lips, but they sound nonsensical, even to him. "I like hot tubs. I like this, and the robe you're wearing. It looks like it feels exciting. I know those words don't make any sense but I think it's true." His entire body contracts, and it is as if time stops before he manages to breathe out.

She is playful and delighted by his sweetness, and his eyes are shining in a kind of wonder as she removes the white sash, the silk of her robe falling open to reveal most of her globe-shaped breasts, well-formed hips, the flat but not concave curve of her belly, white thighs not quite thin enough to avoid touching. A small piece of black lace between her legs is all that covers her beneath the robe, thin straps sitting on her hipbones like an ornate decoration. "Close your eyes, Keegan. Just relax now and know you're safe here with me."

He responds with a shiver that rocks his wiry frame, the sensation of the white silk traveling across the overheated flesh nothing but his own hand ever explored making him feel a little like the champagne bottle. Seventeen years of lust and fantasies and imagining what things were like led him to this moment, and it was all too much. He tries, but he can't stop his body from shaking. "Umm...Avaaa...." His voice sounds far away in his own head and time moves so slowly, he wonders if she can understand him at all.

"Yes, Keegan? It's okay. You can tell me anything." He notices the whisper is filled with silvery-gold threads. It is the most magnificent sound in the world and the only one that exists anymore.

"I don't...think I can make it to the hot tub." His entire body feels like it is blushing, even with his eyes closed. At the same time, his hips lift up to find her touch, the caress of flesh and silk. When he notices nothing is there, every fibre of his being fills with disappointment. He should not have said that. She already told him she liked the hot tub and he doesn't want to disappoint her. His entire body reaches for her.

Instead, he feels her move away, and cries out, "Ava, please don't go."

His eyes fly open in sudden alarm,only to see her kneeling on the red carpet, the feeling of black silk and warm skin pressing his legs farther apart. Her eyes meet his, and she is still for a moment, before the cherry-red lips smile delightedly. "Keegan! I thought I told you to close your eyes."

He does, and there is only the sound of his own ragged breathing as the white silk and the tips of her fingers compete for his attention. Keegan is lost in his own world, green like Ava's eyes and blue like the water and red like the carpet Ava is perched on. When he finally feels the unexpected heat of her plump, girlish lips wrap around him, he responds with a cry that goes beyond pleasure. There is so much red, it brings tears to his eyes, as he thinks only of creamy thighs, black lace, and dark cherry lips.

Keegan is aware of his hips moving without him, thrusting themselves into her every time it feels like she is pushing him deeper into the bed. He hopes he isn't hurting her, but doesn't know how to say that. It's hard enough to remember to breathe as she draws him deeper and deeper into herself. "Avvvaaaa..."

It's a sound he barely manages, and he hears no response. She just pulls him deeper and deeper into the coloured world he has never seen before. He breathes deeply, as if it is the last breath he will ever take in the world. Keegan doesn't know why he needs so much oxygen to keep from suffocating. Mere seconds pass before his entire being explodes violently, all the desires of his small world being released and bubbling over like the champagne bottle. Her hands keep him as still as possible, pulling him closer as he moves back and forth, feeling like the helpless river of champagne. Keegan didn't know until that moment that life could be so wonderful and full of so much colour.

Barely breathing, he manages to gasp, "Ava? I don't think I could ever get tired of loving you." He doesn't dare to open his eyes, but a tear rolls down his cheek. He has no idea why because he definitely isn't sad.

They aren't just words, though he guesses she hears them all the time. After a while, words must lose their meaning, so he promises himself to show her and tell her every day from that moment on.

He never notices the glistening tears in her own eyes as they look up him for just a moment. Somehow, though, he feels them. He doesn't resist at all as he feels her take the champagne flute from his hands, and the softness of her body pushes him deep into the zebra-striped comforter that feels like the most sensual hug he has ever known.

The same tears are in Keegan Draesia's eyes the afternoon of November 1st, when he takes the route past the Red Question on the way to work. The tears are because the sight of the building always makes him think of Ava. He notices the large crowd, the ambulance, the presence of a body bag that signifies something very terrible happened.

Keegan isn't too surprised. He knows all too well that the Red Question is a place where bad things happen to bad people on a regular basis. Every once in a while, it's the kind of place where bad things happen to good people, people who have no business being there.

The rain was already starting to lighten up and the crowd starting to disperse, losing interest in the scandal and gossip. If only Keegan Draesia had strolled by two hours later, the day might have gone a bit differently.

Instead, the young chef joins the crowd of onlookers at the same time Victor Zenkova's body happens to still be prominently on display. Pushing his way through the crowd, the half-naked and almost unrecognisable corpse staring up at him from a million miles away. Keegan knows exactly what has happened. He feels it in his bones with every step. There is no logic that could explain how he knows it is Victor, or what compels him to pay his final respects. The same blur that carried him out of the Red Question seven years ago, that blissful night he first met Ava, it is the feeling that carries him toward the body.

Looking down, Keegan just shakes his head, the medical examiner taking a hurried step back as if she knows something is going to happen before it does. Oblivious to the crowd of two hundred and fity-odd people, the young chef violently spat in the face of the dead man. Seeing the body of the one person he hates more than he'd ever hated anyone makes Keegan wish he could kill Victor again. He'd be sure to make it hurt a lot more than the first person did.

Keegan's foot angrily kicks Victor in the head, ensuring there will be no resting in peace today. "Someone finally gave you what was coming to you, you old fat perverted son-of-a-bitch? Maybe a lifetime of pimpin' out young girls and lost boys with no homes and then makin' them disappear like no one cared always gets a man's throat slit?" He shakes his head, and leans down to whisper, "I hope you suffered. I hope you suffered every bit as much as she did."

The crowd has parted, staring in hushed, shocked silence as Keegan turns to walk away. His legs start walking, but he sees the emerald green of Ava's eyes, the clear blue water of the hot tub, the deep cherry of her lips. He can't let go. He just can't.

When the young chef turns back to face Victor, it is to fire four bullets into the dead man's crotch. As if punctuating a sentence, he pulls the trigger another time, a bullet going straight through the peach-coloured eye and clear through the other side, lodging itself into the asphalt. "That's for my Ava. Seven years too late, but this is for her." A final shot rings out, bits of what once was the Russian club owner flying as the bullet pierces Victor's heart.

Keegan rushes through the crowd, the rain cleansing him with every step as he goes. By the time he reaches Mudbugs, a ray of sunshine peeks through the clouds. "I love you too, Ava. I don't think I could ever get tired of loving you." He whispers the message to the beam of sunshine, knowing it has to be her.

It makes no difference that Victor Zenkova was already dead. In Keegan's mind, justice had finally been served.