Stars Dancing [Dreams-To-Lovers Romance]

It was sunset, and everyone loved the night views of the Seattle skyline from Gas Works Park. Best views in the city, and it shone with perfection as the last glimmers of sunset threw gold, orange, and pink across the night sky.

My Slayer Companion did exactly what I'd expected. Dogs and their guardians adored the park with its open expanses of lawn and water-front views, and the Slayer Companion didn't let me down.

I raced to the concrete refuge at the far end of the park, and behind me, the murder pizza flew through the air like a giant cheese-covered frisbee, black dog hot on its trail.

The concrete pillars were exactly as I remembered them: all in a row like giant, house-sized croquet wickets. The perfect trap for a vampiric, doughy monster. I ran through the first five wickets, then side-stepped right, depositing Harley behind a concrete column. She promptly fell to the grass with an "Oomph," poor thing.

But I had no time to concern myself with Harley's well being. The murder pizza'd flown past us, just as I'd predicted. Three wickets down, it stopped, meaning to back up and head for me, but the black dog barred its way, snarling and growling with fury.

The pizza took a move out of my playbook and darted left around a concrete wicket.

"Spoon up!" I yelled at Harley, who was already on her feet, brandishing her favorite wooden cooking utensil like a mad harpy who wanted to take down the vile dinner-escaping marauder.

"I'll kill it!" Harley hissed. "Goddamn whole day blown. It should've been perfect. It was perfect—"

But I had to move, needed to keep the murder pizza focused on me. Engaging all the Vigor I could, I ran full speed around the outside of the concrete wickets, all the way to the end, and the monster followed me, black dog letting out a series of staccato, furious barks, chasing it.

I zoomed around the wickets and plunged through the center of them, circling back towards Harley.

"Spoon up, Har!" I shouted at her, brandishing my own over-sized wooden fork home decor. "It has a weakness!"

Harley was running the same direction as me on the outside of the concrete wickets, and she got it! The plan! Just like I knew she would, she'd anticipated me. All those years gaming together kept us in perfect harmony. We could do this!

I slowed my pace to give her time to get in place, black dog panting behind me on the heels of the pizza that was now chasing me.

Perfect! Harley was at the end of the wickets, standing like a marinara-soaked goddess, wooden spoon pointing before her in defiance, eyes ablaze with the fury of a cook denied the meal of a lifetime.

But the dog? What would it do when I enacted my final phase of the plan?

New Skill accessed: Slayer Companion Communication

And suddenly, I knew its mind. The black dog wasn't just a companion animal; it was a highly-trained agility machine on four furry paws. It would have no trouble with what came next, so I showed it what I was going to do.

I felt her— for she was definitely female— excitement. She wanted to do it; wanted to show me and Harley what she could do. Excellent!

Shikha— for that was the name of the fierce, black, shaggy, German Shepherd— chased the murder pizza, herding it after me, determined to block every avenue of escape. No frisbee-shaped dinner would be allowed free in Gas Works Park. This monster was going down.

Good. Slayer Companion on board with the plan, I pulled my attention back to the scene before me. Twenty feet more. Ten. Five.

I dropped to the ground feet from my wife and slid, spinning on my back, giant wooden fork held aloft as Shikha herded the pizza towards my sliding form. I thrust upwards with my weapon, timing perfect, and yelling, "Now, Harley, shove a spoon down a bitch!"

The murder pizza I'd speared on my fork snarled in rage at my wife, but Harley was undaunted.

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"You will pay, bitch," she hissed, and smacked the pizza a good one with the flat of the spoon. It opened its mouth wide in horror, and my wife did not hesitate; she shoved that wooden spoon down its gullet and fed it the cure for its madness: Ash wood.

At that moment, Shikha lept, black furry mass like a bolt of lightening in the air, flying over both me and Harley in one leap, effortlessly clearing the fight below her. The fight which was now over, my wife having destroyed the vile enemy.

Wanna tame a rabid, foaming, vampiric pizza? Shove Ash wood between its fangs and you rob it of its un-life. It only took seconds for the mad pizza to loose its crazy, and then we were left with something only Harley and I could appreciate.

A giant fork covered in a perfect, airy, whole-wheat crust topped with homemade tomato sauce, melty mozzarella and cheddar, and thin-sliced smoked turkey with jalapeños.

"Oh, Harley!" I sobbed.

"I know, Red. I've been dreaming of this pizza ever since we had it at Nashville Pizza Co., and I couldn't wait for you to come home and have it on your birthday," she winked her violet eye at me. "I don't think it's dangerous anymore—"

"It's amazing, Har, amazing. Thank you!" I ripped the pizza in half slowly, then tore off a section for our shaggy companion whose sides were heaving.

"You're gorgeous, aren't you?" I asked Shikha, and she approached, eyes darting from Harley to the pizza. "Yeah, I bet turkey and cheddar are your thing, aren't they?" I picked the jalapeños off, and tore a piece of pizza into bite-sized bits for the dog who'd been so helpful.

I no longer had a sense of her in my mind. She just seemed like regular 'ol dog. Odd.

Shikha lapped up the pizza then settled down next to us, chewing a stick. Harley was already holding a piece of pizza up to me, and I took a bite, "Ummmm, oh Har, I think yours is even better than the restaurant's."

"It's gotta be; that crust took all damn day. Oh my lord, it is heaven, isn't it, Red?"

I looked around us. Our backs were to the concrete wickets, and the sky was barely tinged with fading pink light. The Seattle skyline stretched before us across the water.

"Heaven, yeah, Harley. The pizza. The park. The dog. The skyline." I looked at my wife. "And you. Always you. You're the sun; it's in your face."

She laughed and held the pizza to my lips again. I took a bite.

Her voice softened to a whisper, "No, Red, you look at me like that, and all I see is sunlight, starlight, moonlight, and beyond. Every minute, every hour, all I want is you."

The moment was interrupted by a whistle. Shikha's ears perked up, and she jumped to her feet. In the distance, a tall, black man waved, and Shikha ran to him.

We waved back, grateful, but never knowing who he was or where he came from, only that for a minute, I'd gotten to mentally merge with his dog and do the impossible.

I looked down at my foam-covered body, wondering if I was gonna have a Cinderella moment, and all my magic would go poof at midnight.

Harley's head cocked to the side as she asked, "What exactly happened in the bathroom?"

"The bathroom!" I said in horror. "What about the fucking kitchen Harley? How did we have murder pizza for dinner tonight?"

She doubled over, "It was the music! The music! I sang with the three tenors!" Arms waiving, face contorting, she sang out, "'Sta 'nfront a te!' Then a blue light shot from the speakers towards me."

"I ducked, and it flew over my head but struck the hot pizza cooling on the stove top. Next thing I knew, a giant, face-eating monster was coming for me! And with olives, for crying out loud! I hate pizza with olives!"

"So, how was there sauce all over the kitchen, Har?"

Groaning, Harley covered her face with her hands, "My pizza sauce! All that homemade goodness. I made two batches so I could freeze one for another time. In my panic, I tried to grab the pot, but the stupid murder pizza took the handle and spun the damn thing around the kitchen spraying sauce everywhere! All that work, splattered all over the walls, godsdammit!"

I collapsed in giggles, imagining Harley fending for her life with a vat of homemade marinara and a wooden spoon.

"It's not funny!" she whined, laughing and nearly crying at once. "Wait a second, how are you still covered in bubbles, and what the fuck, Muriel, how did you pick me up and run all the way to Gas Works?"

"Well, whatever magic you and Pavarotti called outta hell, it must've been in that wine glass because the damn thing broke all over the bathroom floor where I managed to slip and fall to my death then got resurrected by glass shards piercing my bare ass, and that turned me into a fucking-foaming-hand-soap princess!" I spat.

Harley gave up trying to hold it together and collapsed on the grass, guffawing and braying in laughter.

That was the last sound I heard before the alarm woke me.

I jolted awake, hands slapping the desk in front of me, trying to find the offensive sound. I grabbed the phone and tapped the alarm off.

4:47 PM. Perfect. I'd caught a nap; now I could make it to the Seattle ferry in time to join my wife on our birthday trip to Bainbridge Island. She would love the dream I'd just awoken from.

Maybe we'd find a way to work it into the next edition of our video game. Foaming Hand Soap Princess Warriors with black German Shepherd companions. What could be better than that? Oh, maybe murder pizzas, I grinned to myself.

The end.

HC

"Brilliant!" I told the screen in front of me.

Paddy, love of my life and mother of my children, had told me to write a murder mystery to work out my bad mood. So I had. Happy wife, happy life, and all that. Well, if I was gonna do a thing, I wanted to do it with flair. Murder mysteries were boring.

But a comedy with a side of Litrpg satire and sapphic romance? Pure genius.

Not only did I have a short story to please my wife, but I had a teaser for Harley and Muriel's fans. A way to say, "I'm back writing, here's a little taste of Seattle for you. New book coming soon! Enjoy!"

I nodded. It was perfect, and my good humor was restored. I went to the kitchen to see what I could nosh on. There was a frozen pizza on the freezer shelf, but I gave that one a wide berth.

Bong! went my pad, and I checked my messages. New one from my wife.

Paddy: make a dinner reservation at Mario's, 6:30 PM

Uhh, did I really want Italian tonight? I chuckled at the screen and obeyed my wife.

Let's hope they aren't playing "O Sole Mio," I thought. "I never wanna hear that song again."