Smiles lie- Part one. "An introduction to our mad man."

Smiles lie- Part one. "An introduction to our mad man."

A Chapter by Chantelle Maria Wadsworth

An introduction to Leon and his ways, and the start of his seemingly insane life.

There was nothing particularly unusual about Leon. Nothing a by-stander would notice anyway. Not even his girlfriend was aware of the peculiarities that he dragged along with him day after day. As a matter of fact, a large number of the strange happenings that orbited around Leon were passed off as mere accidents, or simply strange happenings. 
How ever anyone peered at it, Leon was a perfectly normal 6 foot 2 man who, now and again, did wear sandal and socks together. Polite, handsome; hit any onlooker with a charming wag of the left brow and spoke like a young Alan Rickman. A perfect picture of the stereotypical catch of a woman. 
But Leon was a strange specimen of manhood in that sense. Relationships never really bothered him, nor had any impact. Many men and woman find it unbearable to be without their loved one, or find it even more unthinkable to assume one day they may not even have a loved one; this baffled Leon to the marrow. For him a partner was simply an ingredient in his day to day life. Sugar in his tea, not essential, but admittedly sweeter with than without. 
So to make his days and certainly nights easier he had a follower by the name of Clarice. A stunning little number indeed.  A real life mannequin. Head to toe there wasn't a bump or scratch. Though she had no stand out features, she was good looking in a plain sense. The sort of woman men love to daydream about as a one nighter, then forget in the morning with incredible ease. 
Well that's what Leon paraded with hanging off his arm. She was easy for him. Good press in a sense. He gained man points to any friend he met. A male with a stunning female whispering sweet nothings in his ear, in public would instantly be given a god like status. 
"How do you did it" people would ask him, or many would ask behind his back "How on earth did he do it" with a sarcastic undertone. The reality was, he played no game, he was completely himself. But unfortunately for sweet Clarice, himself could never be a lover. 
There were more important things than love in his tea leaves. Money, status, friends (or admirers). Clarice was just something to bump in the night. He did, admittedly have a liking towards her. He found her submissive nature helpful in his needs. Never did he lift a finger, he knew he didn't have to. In fact he could do what ever he liked. Leon had her wrapped around his hand in a tongue tied trap. She would never leave him, and he knew it. So of course he womanised. Clarice knew this, though she liked to ignore it. 
When Leon drunkenly moped through the door at half past 3 in the morning his neck covered in a tint of red and purple and his crumpled shirt on backwards, she pushed it to the back of her sweet blonde head, brought him his water and held him in bed, even if he did stench of his assistant. Getting nowhere, sleeping somewhere. 
When he awoke with no knowledge of the previous night, she would stay silent, handing him a cup of joe closing her eyes to relish in the kiss on her forehead as he dragged himself out of the door to work. 
Leon closed the door, resting his head back for a second. Work mode. God bless the little chippling for the paracetamol last night. For just a second he thought he felt a tinge of guilt, but shook it off, convincing himself it was the hangover creeping back.
 Getting a grip, he pushed himself off the door and towards his black beauty. His Bently. Throwing his briefcase in the passenger seat. Leon cringed, having taken the risk of looking in the mirror. His normally neat messy hair, was just plain messy now. Dark circles rounded his tired eyes, the usual vibrant green seeming more like a dark moss. His dark stubble was beginning to look rather trampish. What was… was that a, it was. A hickey lay quite unhidden on his neck. 
A silent purple reminded of the night before. Opening the glove box, Leon plunged his hand inside the mess of cds, paid parking tickets, and, yes! Make-up. Another bonus of having a female companion he shrugged. Looking at the disheveled label he could just make out the words concealer. That would have to do. Splurging a tad on the sore love mark, he attempted to lazily cover, it looked more like a rash now. That would have to do.
 Reaching back into the glove box he drew out a pair of mirrored aviators, and a stick of gum. The perfect disguise. Looking back in the mirror, he grunted half heartedly. It would have to do for now. His good looking features still stood out more so than his drinking habits. Cheeks bones that could cut glass and a pout that would give Jagger a run for his money. But that hickey still stood out like an Atheist at a Cliff Richard concert. Something had to be done about that, after all he had a reputation to sercombe.
There were rumours of his ways, but no solid proof. In fact even Leon himself struggled to remember the solid facts. All he knew was he woke up with whiskey on his breath and a messily noted number in his pocket, no name just the number. 
Adjusting his seat slightly, and glancing at the time, he had a few extra minutes spare. Leon set off down the almost empty street. He lived in the quite part of the city. No interfering neighbours, no drama no noise. Peace, just as he liked it. 10 minutes down the highstreet he made a quick detour. Parking a block away from the nearest apparel shop he could eye up. Gathering himself out of his car, Leon flipped the back of his long coat collar up, hiding his neck ever so slightly.
 Glancing at his watch as he wondered around the shop in a daze he noticed he was already due to be in the office. Tutting at his lack of time management, he turned on the wooden heel of his boot and grabbed the nearest scarf his hands met with and walked to the counter at a steady pace. No matter how late Leon was, he never rushed. A thick dark grey cotton neck wrapping was his choice. He paid the man $20, and folded the scarf around himself, covered the peppering of colours on his neck from the world. 

© 2013 Chantelle Maria Wadsworth

Author's Note

Chantelle Maria Wadsworth
Comments are needed. Criticism is always welcome. Tell me what you think, tata. x

My Review

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A really interesting opening.

A nice mix of information and action presented with a suitably cynical tone.

I think I noticed a couple of typos and a few awkward words but nothing serious.

I look forward to seeing how this developes

Posted 6 Years Ago

I really enjoyed reading your description of Leon. I actually know some men like that. It was a pleasure reading. Great way to set up the beginning of your novel. Can't wait to read the rest.

Posted 8 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Added on December 28, 2013
Last Updated on December 28, 2013
Tags: Living with a psychopath, Amnesia, Womaniser, adultery, Angst, emotionless, drinker, rich, handsome.


Chantelle Maria Wadsworth
Chantelle Maria Wadsworth

Cambridge , East Anglia , United Kingdom

Photographer, Journalist and full supporter of sock and sandals. Too weird to live, too rare to die. - H.S.T Cambridge- England more..