Happy Fourth of July, everyone!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction, based upon the Bold and Beautiful character, Ridge Forrester.
Sparklers in My Eyes
It was the Fourth of July, and I was spending it with my family at our two-billion-dollar mansion, filled with weirdly-posed, nude statues and smoke. Brooke had burnt yet another bird in the oven. I used my twenty-foot scarf, wrapped eloquently around my delicate throat, to shield my face from the clouds of black smoke.
“Brooke!” I screamed in stoic agony, holding onto the railing as I ran down to the kitchen.
Brooke stood there, holding the bald eagle I myself had shot that morning in a blackened, crumbling pan. She smiled sadly and shook her head. “I can’t believe I did it again!” she said. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed, and she looked at the fiery bird with a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “I’m sure Steffy had something to do with it.”
“Oh, Logan, come on.”
“I agree,” said Hope from the doorway, with Liam by her side looking awkward. “Steffy’s having a hard time. She can’t get over the fact that I’m married to Liam. I’m sure it was an accident, though.”
“She isn’t even here-“ I tried to point out.
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to eat something else!” Brooke said, throwing the smoldering bird out of the window, pan and all. She plucked off her oven mitts and looked up at everyone with a smile, saying, “Why don’t we do Chinese?”
“That sounds perfect, Mom!”
“Yeah, what’s more American than Chinese?” Liam joked.
“Hahaha,” I said, whipping out my cell phone.
We sat on the porch that evening, eating our Chinese food and watching the stars twinkle at our little table. Hope and Liam sighed and fed each other with their chopsticks, while Brooke noted that a new constellation seemed to have formed in the shape of Hope’s face.
Meanwhile, in the far distance, I could hear Steffy’s cries of anguish, smell Pam’s famous lemon bars, feel Taylor’s confusion over Thorne’s whereabouts. Over the hills, I could see Nick Marone shooting off star-shaped fireworks from his boat in the harbor, and to the east, Jackie and Owen creating fireworks of a different kind on a playground. Liam pointed out the police car heading their way.
A gust of wind rushed past us, blowing my scarf majestically. The thirty candles Brooke had lit upon the table all went out.
“Steffy really has it out for us tonight, doesn’t she?” she laughed. She went inside to find the matches. My attention turned to the young couple across from me.
“Liam, I’m so glad we’re finally married,” Hope was saying to Liam.
“It’s like our hearts melted together on our wedding night; they beat as one now.”
“I hope Steffy will understand soon. She’s got to get over the fact that you love me more than her sometime, right?”
“Yeah, uh, hey, you wanna do some sparklers?”
“Okay, I’ve got a match!” Brooke announced, hurrying out the door to the table. She lit a match to light the candles, but was distracted by the pack of sparklers Liam was showing Hope. Liam noticed her and offered her the box.
“You want one, Mrs. Forrester?”
“Sure!” She smiled, taking them all. Her face brightened suddenly. “Hey, I’ve got an idea…”
“What’s that, Logan?” I asked.
“Well, why not just light up the candles with these?” she asked, gesturing to the sparklers. She held the match to them, and everyone watched as they began to flicker.
“Logan, I don’t know…”
“Oh, yeah, Mrs. Forrester, that might not be safe-“
“Sounds great, Mom!”
I pushed back from the table, tipping over my seat and falling to the ground. I clutched my face in agony, trying to shield it from the out of control sparklers. Brooke was screaming above me, waving the sparklers helplessly. She flailed around as sparks rained down upon my wounded face.
“Ridge, what happened?” Hope cried.
“Uh, your scarf is on fire, Mr. Forrester!” Liam told me helpfully.
I squinted my scorched eyes. The night was dark, but the flames made it bright; I still couldn’t see clearly! I could just make out Brooke standing near me. It looked like she was dancing in an electric storm of red, white and blue. My Logan… she always had been so patriotic.
“Damn you, Steffy!” she was screaming, and I could hear the tears in her voice.
“Steffy isn’t here!” I said raspingly from where I lay, my face ablaze. Not even my tears could dampen the flames. “Steffy isn’t here…”