After chatting in Team Titan, it seems everyone was excited to read the deleted scenes and story prompts! I was going to go in order to the series, but this deleted story was so much fun. So, we will jump in with Jared and Sugar.
A couple of caveats before we get started with the first part:
- I own the copyright to this delicious bit of Jared and Sugar.
- Nothing has been edited. I pulled straight from my deleted folder. Please don’t email me with your edits. Some sections and sentences end mid-sentence because I’m not going to edit scenes found in my deleted files from years ago.
- The deleted files won’t have an ending, but as you know, this couple does find their happily ever after in Westin’s Chase.
- But beware! Some of the dialogue might have made it into Westin’s Chase and I used the premise here in another story (Chased). As for this and any other deleted scenes, I reserve the right to rework it for a future story.
I think that covers it with all the disclaimers. 🙂 Here we go. The unedited version of Jared and Sugar that never happened. Part 1…
Sugar tried for a deep breath, but it never made it to her lungs. Though not for lack of trying. This room might have well been a jail cell. The heat was cranked to high in the windowless audition room. It suffocated her, and it was on purpose, she was sure.
Her ATF supervisor yanked her very long leash and pulled her back in for a sit down. Sugar still hadn’t made the decision as to whether to mess with the guy or take her lumps like a good ATF agent when he walked in.
So she broke the rules. A lot of them. Life goes on. The job goes on.
“Lily.” It wasn’t a hello or even a friendly salutation. It was meant for effect and did the job, getting under her skin. “Let’s get down to it.”
“Come on, Marco. What’s with the name?”
“Your name is Lily Chase, isn’t it?”
“Call me Sugar, Marco. Like you do every other damn time we talk.” Yeah, she was in a ton of trouble. Why pull punches now? “Just like you have for the past five years. I get it. I fucked up. “
Marco spun a metal chair around backwards and straddled it, dangling a file folder over the chair back. “How exactly would you describe it? You………….”
“……………….All in all, I rather get a good fucking job, Sugar than this—”
“Hell, shut up, Sugar.”
Sugar. Good. Progress. She smirked at Marco. “What’s my penance….? Training someone during all my time off?”
“We’re pulling you from ……………..”
“What? No.” ……… was her sanity. “You can’t take that away from me.”
“But I can temporarily push you to another………….”
“No way.” She stood up, putting her hands on her leather pants clad hips, knowing damn well she intimated the man sitting before her.
Marco pressed his lips into a flat line and stood. “………….”
“This isn’t a job you can do by yourself, no matter how up-and-coming you think you are, Sugar.” He tossed the worn brown file jacket. Label side up. It read TASSELS AND TANGOS.
“Tassels and tangos? Seriously? Who names these ____?”
She opened the file and a glossy eight by ten photo stacked the top of the papers. Sugar picked it up, staring at the half-dressed woman, partially covered in sequins, definitely wearing tassels, and with feathers apparently taped to her ass. “…………..”
She pointed to her sprayed up hair and snaked a finger toward her cherry red lipstick, then the rest of her too-tight-pay-attention to me getup. “You’ve read this all wrong. This doesn’t do strippers. I might be bright and shiny, but I decide when my clothes come off, not some twenty year old frat boy with a fake ID and a fist full of ones.”
“She’s not a stripper. She’s a burlesque dancer.”
“Tomato. To-mah-toe. What’s the difference?” She rolled her eyes, not in the mood to play a game of semantics.
“Shit, Sugar. Read the file. Understand your part. What you’d bring to the show. No one’s asking you to get naked.”
“Just partially naked, Marco.”