Flash #2

Word count as of last night: 3,571.
Here's the latest flash:


It isn’t a guest, but a smiling Bing at the door, holding a tower made up of three bakery boxes, each tied in red string.
“I couldn’t decide!” he announces with relish and sweeps into the room.
“Jesus, what did you get?” Ellen asks, grateful for the shift of fresh air Bing’s entrance always brings.
“Fruit tart with a custard filling – gorgeous, wait ‘till you see! Cookies for the girls, because – come on, they’re adorable. And then, I swear I was leaving, but then I saw this chocolate cutie right at the end and had to get it too.”
Ellen can’t help but laugh. Only Bing would call a cake “cutie.” He hands her the boxes and leans forward to give her a kiss on each cheek.
“You look cute yourself,” Ellen reports.
Bing runs his hand through his artfully rumpled almost-shoulder length hair, and does a quick adjustment to his black-rimmed Buddy Holly/Elvis Costello glasses. “Well, you know…You never know who might show up,” he says, adding a tuck to his t-shirt and a tug to the funky velvet blazer he wears over jeans.
“Anyone in particular?” Ellen asks on her way to the kitchen. “Not Gary still, right?”
“Yuck, no!” Bing replies. “But Seamus…” he dangles, leaning on the doorframe.
“What?” Ellen demands, lifting Ruby from the highchair. “He’s too old for you Bing!”
“Bing!” Ruby echoes and runs over to hug his leg.
“Here’s the naughtiest girl!” Bing cheers, patting her diapered bottom. “And anyway,” he tells Ellen, “he’s not too old or too rich.”
“Seamus does have money,” Ellen concedes and smiles, remembering a flash of Seamus young and vowing to never take the trust fund awaiting him at thirty. That birthday came and went with no protest. “Didn’t know you were in the market for a Sugar Daddy.”
“You heard no such thing from me,” he replies, crossing his arms and smiling.
“Still, you’re twenty-what? Twenty-three, my little baby?”
“Yes, mother,” Bing drones.