CELLPHONE
Early spring.
Logan was shooting pool in a local bar when his cellphone rang. The sudden, jarring, noise caught Logan by surprise and made him miss his shot. Growling a curse, Logan pulled his cellphone out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. He hated his cellphone. He hated it with the intensity of a blast furnace. But he knew the phone was a necessary evil, so he restrained himself from throwing it against the nearest wall.
It was Kitty. And she was upset.
"I wrecked the car!" she wailed.
Not exactly a surprise, Logan thought to himself grimly, but he somehow managed not to say it aloud.
"The Professor is gonna kill me!" Kitty continued frantically. "And the cop gave me a ticket and said it was my fault! And I can't find the insurance card! And the guy in the other car is real mad! And everyone at school is going to make fun of me! And..."
"Are ya hurt?" Logan interrupted firmly.
There was a pause.
"No," Kitty answered, suddenly sounding much calmer.
"Is the other guy hurt?" Logan asked.
"No."
"Okay," Logan replied reasonably, "that covers the important part. And the insurance card should be in a black folder in the glove compartment. Where are you?"
He could almost see Kitty bite her lip before she answered. "Uh... On highway 30 south of the school, at the light near the McDonalds."
"Okay, I know where that is. I'll be there soon."
"But...!" Kitty blurted out. She sounded like she was getting revved up again.
"Hey, half-pint," Logan interrupted as gently as possible for him. "I've seen you handle things a lot worse than this. You're just not wearing a funny costume this time. Keep it cool."
Kitty hesitated and then answered. "Okay."
"And don't worry too much about the accident," Logan added. "We'll sort it out. And things like this... hey, they're gonna happen when you first start driving. And maybe this will help keep something worse from happening later on. And I'll be with you when you tell the Professor."
"Okay," Kitty said again, now sounding more-or-less calmed down. "I'll see you."
"Ten minutes," Logan replied. Then he closed his phone.
Looking at the guy he'd been shooting pool with, Logan said, "Game's over."
The other guy - a rough looking character in his 40s - shrugged, "That's the way it goes. I hope your daughter's okay."
Logan opened his mouth to correct the guy. Then he stopped. There was no time to explain and the explanation was complicated. And he had to go help Kitty.
The middle of summer.
Logan was sitting in chair in a hotel room, getting a blowjob, when his cellphone rang. Sighing in exasperation, Logan awkwardly leaned over and grabbed the cellphone - it was sitting on the table next to the chair. He hated his cellphone. He hated it with the intensity of a nuclear blast.
The woman who servicing Logan looked up at him. The expression on what he could see of her face was saying something like, "What the hell? Are you paying attention?" She was a blonde, MILFish, biker from California who had tried to hustle Logan in a 'friendly' game of poker. Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing just how hard it was to bluff Logan - after all, he was able to smell excitement and worry. The game went about as badly for her as could be expected. Eventually, she had found herself with nothing to cover Logan's last raise but a promise of some very personal services. And then her two pair hadn't been enough to beat Logan's straight.
Logan put the phone to his ear. A bit offended, the naked woman on her knees picked up the speed of what she was doing. That caused Logan to hiss in reaction.
"Logan?" It was Jean's voice.
"Hey... hey, Jean. Uh... what's up?" Logan answered raggedly.
"Are you okay?" Jean asked.
"Yeah, yeah," Logan said. "I just... uh... you just caught me at a... I'm a little busy."
Given the circumstances, the naked woman kneeling in front of Logan couldn't exactly smile, but she was very pleased with the effect she was having on him.
"I can call back," Jean said uncertainly.
"Yeah! Uh, I mean no! Uh, what's going on?" Logan asked.
The blonde on the floor did something she'd learned during a stint working at a massage parlor. And that was enough to send Logan over the edge. Logan gritted his teeth as he applied every ounce of self-control to not making a sound.
"Are you sure?" Jean asked.
"Yergh," Logan replied with his eyes clenched shut.
The blonde looked up at Logan, smiled wickedly.
"Okay. If you're sure..." continued Jean.
Logan leaned back, his head resting on the back of the chair as he looked up at the ceiling.
"I'm sure. What do ya want?" Logan said, trying to keep his voice as normal as possible.
"I was wondering if you could stop at the store on the way back from town. Scott and I are teaching a geometry class tomorrow and we just found out that the supply room is out of graph paper. And Scott's car is having an engine problem so he can't go."
The blonde got up and straddled Logan's lap. She began nibbling the side of his neck and along the line of his jaw.
"Graph paper. Okay. Uh... what kind of graph paper?" Logan asked. He was still staring at the ceiling.
"The kind with one millimeter squares," Jean answered.
The blonde was now rhythmically rubbing her bare body against Logan's chest.
"Okay," Logan said as calmly as he could manage.
"Thanks!" Jean responded happily.
The blonde took one of Logan's nipples neatly between her teeth and began applying pressure...
"No problem," Logan choked out. Then he closed the phone.
The blonde in Logan's lap easily dismounted from Logan's lap by sliding down and away, letting the full length of her bare body flow against Logan until she once again ended up on her knees. It was an expertly performed move that suggested more than a little experience as a stripper.
"Sorry," Logan said as he tossed the phone onto the table.
"So, am I better than this Jean girl?" the blonde asked with a smug smile.
Logan looked at the blonde. He didn't have any particular expression on his face, but she both got the message and misinterpreted it all at the same time.
"Hey, I didn't mean anything," the blonde said nervously as she got to her feet. Her posture was now stiff and she was watching Logan's face carefully.
"S'okay," Logan said shortly as he stood up and reached for his pants. All of sudden, he wasn't in the mood for this. And he didn't feel like getting back in the mood. And he definitely didn't want to think about what was bothering him and why.
The blonde sat down on the bed and wordlessly watched Logan as he pulled his clothes on.
Just before he left the room, Logan hesitated, the door handle in his hand. What had happened wasn't the woman's fault. And now she was dead broke and stuck in Bayville with only the clothes on her back, half a tank of gas in her bike, and a hotel room that he'd only rented for one night.
"Just north of Bayville on North 1500 Road, there's a bar called Shapely's. Ever hear of it?" he said.
The blonde shook her head,
"Shapely is a decent guy," Logan continued. "And the word is that he's fair-and-square with the folks who work for him. I hear he's looking for waitresses or dancers. You might want to give him a try."
Her eyes suddenly interested, the blonde nodded slowly.
Logan left the room.
Early fall.
Logan was parked by the side of the road, leaning against his motorcycle and looking up at the stars when his cellphone rang. With an exasperated sigh, Logan fished the cellphone out of his jacket pocket. He hated his cellphone with the intensity of a supernova. But the Prof and Ororo had convinced him to carry it. It was important that they have a way to get in touch with him when he wasn't at the mansion.
"Yeah?" Logan said into the phone.
"Hey," Rogue answered quietly. "How's it going?"
"Okay," Logan replied with a shrug that Rogue - of course - couldn't see. "What's up?"
"Nothing. I... I just wanted to say 'hi'."
Logan frowned. What the hell was with Rogue?
Then Logan remembered.
"I thought the school dance was tonight," he said matter-of-factly.
"Y... Yeah. Yeah. I decided not to go," Rogue answered carefully.
"Everyone else went, didn't they?" Logan asked as he squinted into the darkness of a patch of nearby trees. A young fox was watching him. She had a den of kits underneath a nearby fallen tree. She was trying to decide if Logan was a threat to them.
"I didn't feel like going," Rogue answered angrily. "I hate all of that high-school popularity-contest stuff."
It wasn't too hard to figure out what the problem was. Scott and Jean had gone to the dance. Together. It looked like the battle over Scott was over and Jean had won. What was worse, it hadn't been much of a fight.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Logan answered. "That sort of thing never made much sense to me, either. Tell ya what. I'm not too far from the mansion. How about I pick you up? We could go for a ride along the coast."
He could almost see Rogue's face light up.
"Hey, that would be fun! Could I drive? You know, part of the way?"
No fucking way in hell, was Logan's immediate reaction, as he put a hand protectively on one of his bike's handlebars.
Then he smiled to himself and let go.
"Sure," he said into the phone. "I'll be at the gate in fifteen minutes."
"Cool!" Rogue answered delightedly.
Logan flipped the phone closed, packed it away, mounted his bike, and kicked it to life. After he left, the fox hiding in the trees went back to her young.
Late fall.
Logan was about to kill a man when his cellphone rang. Logan hated his cellphone. He hated it with the intensity of colliding galaxies. But he knew it was best that he carry the damned thing.
"Don't! Don't! Please, don't!" Logan's target begged. Logan had been tracking him all night and had just caught up to him a few minutes ago. His name was Jimmy Dollison. Up until a few days ago, he had been a guest of the State - pulling most of a ten year sentence for armed robbery. That had been his second felony conviction and he didn't dare pick up a third conviction, since that would result in a mandatory life sentence. So Jimmy hadn't hesitated to gun down the woman who had been the clerk at the convenience store that he was robbing. Jimmy just didn't think it was a good idea to leave any inconvenient witnesses lying around.
They were in a particularly poorly-lit alleyway. The brief - very brief - confrontation with Jimmy had left the ex-con with no doubt that he couldn't possibly beat Logan in any kind of a fight. At the moment, Jimmy was sitting on the concrete alley floor, slumped against a dirty brick wall. His right arm was broken and blood was trickling from his nose and mouth. And Logan was standing between Jimmy and the mouth of the alley. There was nowhere to run.
Logan put the cellphone to his ear, and then put a hand over his other ear to block out the noise of Jimmy's sobbing. That was awkward since his claws were extended from both hands.
"What!?" Logan said angrily.
"Hi," came the response. It was a girl's voice.
Logan stiffened. It wasn't anyone from the school, but he recognized the voice. He didn't know how she got this number, but he didn't really care.
"Hey. How's it going?" Logan asked quietly.
"I wanted you to know that I'm okay."
"That's great," Logan replied quickly. "Where are you?"
"I better not answer that."
Logan reluctantly found himself agreeing with that. She was taking a chance just by calling him. It would be better if they didn't get too specific about anything. Unfortunately, Logan knew he just couldn't trust Nick Fury about some things.
"Okay, I see your point." Logan conceded. "Is there anything you can tell me?"
The voice on the other end of the phone was silent for a few seconds.
"I'm trying," she finally said softly. "I'm trying to be like other people, and I haven't hurt anybody for 217 days."
Logan sighed, "That's good. Keep it up."
"Okay. I better go now."
Logan wanted to keep her on the phone. He wanted to talk to her some more. But he knew that this was something that he shouldn't push.
"Thanks for calling," Logan said.
The phone went dead.
"Please don't," Jimmy kept sobbing as he tried to curl into a ball.
Logan sighed and stowed his phone away. Then he took a long, thoughtful look at Jimmy Donnelson.
It was good to have heard from her. To hear that she was doing okay. That she was trying.
217 days. That was something like... what? Seven months?
"It's your lucky day," Logan said as he hauled Jimmy to his feet. The police station was only about a mile away. "Your life just got saved by a ninety pound girl that you'll never meet - if you keep on being lucky."
The beginning of winter.
Logan was drinking a cup of coffee in a local all-night diner when his cellphone rang. Logan hated his cellphone with the intensity of the heat death of the Universe. But he was stuck with the damn thing and there was no way around it.
Putting the phone to his ear, Logan said, "Yeah?"
"Hello, Logan."
Logan smiled. There was no mistaking who it was. Ororo.
"What's wrong, 'Ro?" Logan asked as he took another sip of coffee.
"Jean was dreaming again."
Logan suddenly put his cup down. Jean didn't have full control of her powers yet. Sometimes when she dreamed, funny things could happen.
"Is everyone okay?" Logan asked worriedly. A few weeks ago, Jean had a pretty ugly nightmare about animals being slaughtered, and her dream was projected into everyone's heads. Nobody slept for the rest of the night and half of the people in the mansion became vegetarians afterwards.
"She is fine. So is everyone else," Ororo answered reassuringly.
"What was she dreaming about?" Logan asked.
"Her dream was erotic," Ororo replied, her voice definitely amused. "Very erotic."
"Oh, man," Logan chuckled. "Jean's probably embarrassed as all hell. Did everyone get a peek?"
"Nothing particularly specific - just an intense feeling of arousal. It was really quite remarkable. The Professor eventually sensed what was happening and shielded her dream-thoughts from the others. According to Charles, the students probably will not know what happened. They will each simply assume that they had a particularly strong dream."
"Weird," Logan sighed resignedly. "Well, thanks for the warning. Anything else?"
"Yes. There is something I was hoping that you could help me with."
"What's that?"
"Well, I am naked and lying in bed. And I am touching myself as I talk to you. Does that give you a clue?"
Logan tossed a twenty onto the table and dashed out the door.
One hour later.
Logan loved his cellphone.