SPILT MINDS

Briar Elwood

Prologue

His name was Maverick. James Maverick III. He was tall and broad. His hair was dark and neatly combed, with a slight shine of gel. His eyes were bright in a dark way: bright in color, yet dark in tone and nature. He wore a black fashionable suit, of course not always the same one, but always black and always in style. He wore no hat and never would even though it made him ornery in the sight of others. To tell the truth, that could’ve been his purpose in doing so. His shoes were black and always boasted a perfect gleam. He always wore his black leather gloves, an unfailingly classy touch.

He liked to yell. He would yell in a manner that could bring even the strongest of men to his knees. His lips seemed to be permanently curled into a disapproving frown. He was proud and independent. He had strong opinions and had no issues with letting them be known. But he was a man of the upper class, so his opinions, no matter how outrageous, would rarely ever get him into trouble. However, it did mean he had no close or true friends. No one to confide in when the pressures of life brought him down. No one to gossip with, no one to buy a friendly round of beer for or share an expensive cigar with. All he had were his servants. No wife, no relatives who cared to ever pay him a visit. Just the hired persons who scurried about in his mansion, tending to his daily needs and cares.

But what need of a friend did James Maverick III have anyway?

As far as Maverick knew, she didn’t have a name. She never told him anything about herself, though there were a few things he could infer.

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She was only a few years younger than Maverick’s eight and twenty years, around three and twenty, perhaps. Her hair was brunette and pulled back, sticking out strangely at the back of her head. She was about his height and boasted wonderful curves. Her eyes were a light mix of colors. So far Maverick had picked out blue, green, and hazel. Her attire was never the same and she usually wore strange yet comfortable looking pants along with a navy blue jacket over her shirt. Her shirts usually had writing on them, consisting of confusing slogans such as: “Vader was framed”. Whoever Vader was. Sounded Dutch to Maverick. Anyway.

At first she had been shy, gently berating him or encouraging him, depending on the situation. Slowly, she showed her true side, a hyper and outgoing nature. Most of what he heard from her foreign American accent was jokes or stories. Her loud laugh was one of Maverick’s favorite sounds and he heard it quite often.

He knew nothing of her life. Not yet, at least. To tell the truth, he didn’t even know if she was a piece of fiction or not. Her crude jokes and outlandish clothes made it seem that way. And he never saw her out of his mind’s eye. To Maverick’s knowledge, she was simply a figment of his almost non-existent imagination.

A/N: So hello everyone and I hope you find this interesting...I know I do. Now, before you get excited, let me warn you...I WILL NOT BE CONSTANT IN UPDATES. But I truly and sincerely will try to finish this...someday. ;p

And I love reviewers!