Hazel in the Demon's Den

The day they left for Will's business trip was only Hazel's third time ever being on a plane. She worked on commissions the entire time they were in the air. She had definitely accepted too many this time but they needed to be done in as timely a manner as possible.

"How many of those do you have left?" Will asked curiously as they were about to land at LAX.

"Too many," she sighed wearily. "Every time I open commissions I end up getting a minimum of three dozen requests before I close them. Each one takes a minimum of a few hours to do."

He frowned. "Why open them in the first place then? You already have so much to do for your comic."

Hazel couldn't exactly explain that she was trying to earn money to leave him so she shrugged and blamed it on her followers. "People are always begging me to open commissions. I have to do it once in a while to keep my fellow bloggers happy."

"I didn't think you cared about things like keeping other people happy."

She didn't, but the way Will said it was odd. How would he know that? She had admitted she didn't have many attachments on the night she packed up her old apartment but that didn't necessarily mean she didn't care about other people at all.

The best course of action was to ignore his comment and keep working. He wisely didn't say anything further on the subject.

When Hazel dared to peek at her husband again, it was by the baggage claim. She noticed he seemed rather annoyed with something. He wasn't annoyed with her for not responding earlier, was he?

She got her answer a few minutes later as they were waiting to pick up a rental car. Will's phone rang and his expression darkened even further for a split second before he picked up.

"What?" he barked into the phone. "I'm here already; you don't need to check up on me. I'll be over as soon as I get checked into my hotel."

The person on the other end of the line spoke too quietly for Hazel to hear a word they were saying so the one-sided conversation went as follows.

"I already told you how to handle that. Do I need to spell out every tiny thing?"

"No, we aren't doing that anymore! If he still isn't following instructions properly, fire him."

"I don't need to do that myself. You're perfectly capable of handling it. You know I'm only here to…uh huh. I don't know; a few hours? Don't quote me on that. See you."

Will jabbed the end call button a bit forcefully and rubbed his forehead in agitation. If Hazel had to guess; the person who was about to get fired was the one who ended up losing him a lot of money the other day.

Hadn't he said the company transferred him to Utah? If he was the boss that wouldn't have happened.

Maybe Will was one of the higher ups? A girl she knew in college had her parents move to Texas out of nowhere because her father, a vice president of finance for an oil company, got switched over to a different branch.

"You okay?" Hazel dared to ask.

He ran a hand through his hair and shot her a strained smile. "I will be once this is over with. I really need this vacation."

Normally he seemed like nothing ever got to him. The only time she had ever seen him show any sort of stress was the day his company lost all that money. His current state of disarray brought him down to earth a bit.

Tentatively, she wrapped her tiny hand around his larger one to comfort him. Will did seem to like being touched. It was the only thing she could think of to make him feel better. She wasn't so good with words.

Almost instantly, all the tension in his body drained away with a sigh. He brought the hand that was holding his up to his face and held it against his cheek for a moment.

Hazel looked at him questioningly but his eyes were closed in contentment. She could let it go for now since he was so stressed. She had held his hand to comfort him after all.

Will didn't open his eyes or drop her hand until the man behind the counter called his name. He released her hand after pressing a quick kiss to the back of it but she had the feeling it was done reluctantly.

Forty-five minutes later, they were all checked in at the hotel and Will was telling her all of the things she could do to keep herself entertained until he got back. He said he would try to be back in time for dinner but that he would text her beforehand if he couldn't make it.

She nodded along absently, planning to spend the entire time working on commissions, when he handed her a hundred dollar bill. She stared at him blankly.

"What's this for?"

"Go get a manicure or pedicure. Or both. You're on vacation," Will insisted. "Don't spend the entire time holed up in the room on your iPad. You have to do at least one fun or relaxing thing per day while we're here."

Hazel didn't understand. He was here for business and she had happened to tag along before they could go on their real vacation. She had been planning to work when he was working. Why did he suddenly want her to relax instead?

It wasn't like Will had never bought things for her before…there were those pancakes. That pottery making activity. The car. Too many craft supplies to count.

But he always had at least somewhat justifiable reasons for those purchases. Right now he was blatantly telling her to go spoil herself with his money. She knew he was well off but still felt uncomfortable with this.

All her life she had been fiercely independent. Her uncle hardly spent a penny on her so she was forced to go out and do things herself if she wanted spending money. Anything her parents left her was long gone by the time she got out of the mental hospital.

Hazel had begged her uncle for art supplies when she was younger and he gave her basic pads of paper, colored pencils, markers, and crayons to shut her up and keep her occupied and out of his way. Anything else she wanted, she had to buy herself. Canvases and paints weren't cheap.

As soon as she was old enough, she worked any part-time job she could find to fund her passion. She was used to doing anything and everything to scrape by.

She lived off of macaroni and cheese and $1 microwave meals after her uncle died so she could continue to afford the supplies she needed for her classes and still pay his mortgage. That was around the time she decided to sell the house and moved in with Billy Lawson.

The 'starving artist' stereotype had fit her to a T for a good chunk of her life yet now someone was handing her a hundred dollar bill—had she even seen one of these in person before?—and telling her to spend it on something frivolous.

Hazel actually hadn't ever gotten a proper manicure or pedicure before. She always painted her nails herself with cheap drugstore nail polish. She liked the way her nails looked when they were painted but it was such a hassle trying to live her life during the time they were drying so she didn't paint them terribly often.