As promised, here is the first chapter of the sequel to Blue October.
Ja-ne, this one's for you.
I own my accursed brain. Nothing more, nothing less.
"You!" the exclamation was a forced puff from the redhead's lips as she stared at the sandy blonde before her.
"Me," the woman responded easily, and handed over the manila envelope.
The young designer stared down at her package, her name written on it in familiar thin-but-slashing writing. Opening her mouth to demand explanations, the sudden DING! of her Ramen Noodle soup startled her into turning around.
Turning back, she discovered that the messenger had disappeared once more.
Cursing the lady's Dundee-like abilities, she shut the door with an irritating feeling of déjà vu. Worry however, trumped her vexation as she tore open the envelope and removed its contents, wondering what on earth could've merited him to do this again.
Her face drained of blood.
33 days before…
Kori Anders glided along the sidewalk in rollerblades, laughing as she strived to go faster. Without warning, warm arms encircled her waist and she relaxed immediately, knowing the embrace of her fiancé well.
They remained like that for only a short time (they were, after all, skating along concrete that was hardly level) and the young man released her and picked up speed until he was in front of her, whereupon he spun around and skated backwards, never losing speed.
"Showoff," Kori shouted, a wide grin on her face.
Richard Grayson said nothing, only smirked and raised his eyebrow in that sexy expression that she knew and loved so well.
Suddenly, he spun once more, returning to her side, and the reacquired view she had informed her why, they were approaching a large hill, but how Richard had known it was there was beyond her. She shook this off though in favor of squealing with excitement as they picked up speed, relishing the wind striking her face, making her feel like she could fly.
She came back to earth, however, when she noticed an obstruction before them. It was a cat that looked amazingly like Garfield—from the Comics mind you, not the friend.
The cat apparently noticed them as well, and its mouth opened wide as it let out a yowl that sounded like…a phone ringing?
Well, odd voice or not, if drastic measures weren't taken, and taken soon, Kori and Richard were going to trip and crash over the fat feline.
She reached out and grasped…air. Snapping her head to the side, she saw that her fiancé had disappeared.
Turning back, she had just enough time to widen her eyes as she slammed into the animal, both leaving the ground in no desirable way.
The cat's ringing-phone scream echoed in Kori's ears as she saw the pavement coming to greet her.
RIIIIIIIING!
She jerked awake in fright, whirling on her bed, and then off of it, unfortunately. Drawing shaky, hyperventilating breaths, she tried to make sense of her surroundings.
RIIIIIIIING! She shrieked and lashed out at the terrifying noise.
The phone, as could be expected, did nothing to defend itself, and the receiver clattered to the floor, unharmed.
The attacker stared stupidly at her inanimate opponent, before she warily picked it up and pressed Talk. "Hello?" she asked fearfully.
"G'morning soon-to-be-Mrs. Grayson!" was the cheerful answer.
Her dream and adrenaline-based tension was washed away as sanity sloshed onto her like cold water.
Unlike cold water, however, it did not cause an increase in lucidity, and the stunning woman collapsed to the floor, unmindful of her still-wrapped-around-her comforter or uncomfortable position.
"Richard," she said tiredly, "I love you, and I want to marry you, but if you call me this early again, I'm afraid I'll have to cancel the wedding."
A miffed sound emitted from the young multi-millionaire, who didn't consider 7o'clock early at all.
"Then what am I supposed to do until you wake up?" he demanded, "Keep waiting outside your door like I am right now?"
Kori snapped to a little more attention. "Huh?" she stated as she scrambled up awkwardly (it's hard to scramble one-handed amongst bedclothes and sleepiness) and wrapped the comforter around herself, heading towards her door, the covers trailing like a robe of ermine behind her.
Although it wasn't quite that glamorous.
Cradling the wireless receiver between her ear and shoulder, she snapped open the locks, took the phone back into her hand, and jerked open the door.
And there stood Richard Grayson, looking infuriatingly cheeky and deliciously gorgeous as he stood before his wife-to-be and grinned, a cell phone to his ear.
"I'll call you back," Kori heard herself say as she pressed the End button and lowered the phone. "What are you doing here?" she asked, staring at Richard, whose grin has grown wider as he followed her lead and put the cell into his pocket.
Before striding forward and embraced her swaddled form, dipping her and engulfing her mouth with his.
Her questions evaporated, answer now apparent as she struggled against the covers to free her arms and close the door, as well as return his affections. This failing, she lifted her foot and guided the door back to its jamb, then used it to rub along the back of her fiancé's calf, knowing how much he liked it. Sure enough, he responded with more fire as he led them to the couch and gently collapsed upon it, kissing his almost-wife senseless.
And senseless she was. Swathed in a downy comforter on a cushy couch with Richard's warm, heavy weight resting protectively over her, she fell into a deep cloud of relaxation, welcoming her love's cherishing touch.
Slowly, Richard brought himself to rest, softly disengaging their mouths, resting his forehead on Kori's, eyes closed with a surfeited smile.
"I love you," he whispered, once more feeling a delicious thrill that he had found someone he could say this honestly to, and would have them said back.
However, she did not say them back.
"Kori?" he frowned, opening his eyes, looking worriedly at her closed ones. "Kor?"
A soft snore issued from her lips.
A wordless exclamation issued from his.
"Rip-off!" he gasped, pouting like a child, vexed that the girl he loved enough to kiss senseless hadn't the decency to stay awake for the sense-draining kisses.
She slept on, uncaring, hair splayed out, lips swollen, looking serene and happy as she breathed in a regular beat, an occasional snore breaking the rhythm.
An affectionate grin reigned over his face, and he kissed her forehead gently, before resting his head on her comforter'ed chest, listening to her steady inhalations and muffled heartbeat, before he too fell asleep…
…Only for Kori's alarm clock to break the silence with a deafening shriek, half and hour later. The CEO of Wayne Enterprises (as predicted, Bruce hadn't taken to well to the idea of "Grayson Enterprises") groaned, violently wishing he could somehow turn off the offending timekeeper without moving from his comfortable spot.
You don't always get what you want though.
A long tanned arm suddenly shot from the bedding meleé, slamming down onto where the designer imagined her alarm clock to be. Had it been there, the little device would have almost positively shattered on contact.
Richard grimaced slightly, shoulder blades pulling together, remembering well the time when a slender little fist made impact between them in a fit of anger. Kori Anders, he had discovered, was stronger than she looked.
Round green eyes fluttered open, then promptly fell shut as a yawn overtook her, mouth stretching wide enough to see her tonsils. But the moment soon passed, and her eyes opened again, focusing on the weight atop her, namely her fiancé.
"Get off me you great lump."
"How charming, do you plan on greeting me like this every morning?"
"No, because hopefully you won't be sitting on my chest and hopefully that accursed little clock wont be waking the dead."
"Oh, well that's good to know," Richard nodded, paying no mind to the clangorous wails of the time marker. Or the now twitching green eye of his significant other.
"So are you going to get off me?"
He thought for a minute, "No. I'm really comfortable right now."
"Richard, I have to go to work!"
"Aww, can't ya just call in sick?"
"Are you kidding!? If Jin finds out that I blew off the department meeting for you, she's gonna fry my butt! And then I'm gonna fry yours!" Richard grinned as she repeated the oft-joked about rant of her temperamental pink haired boss.
"I'll take my chances," he murmured, hand starting to rub a certain place on her scalp. As planned, Kori sighed and started to go limp.
"But what're we gonna do with our time?" His grin grew wider; contentedly slurred speech was a good sign.
He continued massaging her head, "I'm sure we'll figure something out."
"Mm," she hummed, now past words, and her free hand began to weave itself into his hair. Richard felt his own person start to relax, as it always did under Kori's ministrations.
And suddenly he was on the floor, oof-ing as a comforter swaddled Kori landed and rolled off of him.
He lay stunned for a moment, then turned to the deceitful redhead beside him, "That was a rotten trick."
She adopted an expression that was purely Rachel, "No more rotten than what you tried to do?" And with that, she crawled from her tunnel of cloth.
To have his attention immediately focus on her state of dress. Or lack thereof. He said the first thing that came to mind.
"That's what happened to my shirt!"
Kori Anders then did the worst possible thing. She paused mid-crawl, feet still lost within the blanket. Stunned blue eyes took in what his fiancé was wearing, nothing more than her…unmentionables, and an oversized T-shirt. Richard's T-shirt. And she was currently frozen in a rather suggestive position. Does she live to torment me?
She grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, I saw it in your closet, couldn't resist taking it," she explained, thankfully getting up.
"I want my shirt back."
He may as well have asked her to shave her head, "No way! I love this shirt, and it looks good on me!" Seeing him scoff, her hands came to a rest on her hips, "Don't deny it Richard, you know it looks good on me. Admit it."
He followed the long, golden legs to mid-thigh, where the makeshift nightgown landed, then looked at how the shirt hung over her small frame, leaving room for imagination.
"It looks good on you," he nearly choked out, forcing himself to look away.
"Alright then!" her triumphant voice reached his ears, "Now I'm going to go get ready for work." Footsteps padded away as the most famous person in Jump City lay defeated on the floor of his girlfriend's apartment.
"Oh, and Richard?" he lifted his head, meeting her gaze upside down.
"Yeah?"
"Vote 4 Pedro," she teased, closing the door.
Richard's hands flew to his face. "But that's my favorite shirt!" he whined.
Kori, as usual, moved through her morning ritual at a steady speed, having never understood how her coworkers could stand to spend hours on end getting ready, when it really should take no more than 20 minutes.
It never occurred to the red-haired designer, though, that the only reason she went through this task so quickly, was because she didn't have much to do in the first place. Her skin was always clear (except for that one time when she had the weirdest illness), mascara wasn't really necessary, blush was never needed, her stunted eyebrows rarely needed plucking (they were cute enough not to need eyebrow pencil either), and eye shadow hardly warranted use. Lip gloss was really the only makeup Kori used, or had in large supply.
But seeing as how there was a department meeting that day, Kori went the extra mile…and rubbed some water blue eye shadow on.
For clothes, on the other hand, she as Junior designer knew she had to make a statement.
It wasn't that hard. A dark ice blue shirt made of thin material, with an off-the-shoulder cut and black lace overlaying the hems of the long sleeves and shirt bottom--which she had designed herself--was chosen. A large black rose brooch was pinned on the area near her hip, with a long shiny black ribbon attached, its ends trailing to the knees of her black suede skirt. This came to the tops of her feet, which were adorned with simple black slip-ons.
Knowing that her loose fiery hair clashed with the dark outfit, she curled the ends tightly and pulled it up into a stern ponytail, tying it with another black ribbon. This revealed her current favorite pieces of jewelry, a pair of medium-width hematite (which she just always called black silver) hoops, and an oval sodalite pendant hanging from a short black silver chain.
Glancing down at herself, she realized something was missing. After a minutes thought, she snapped her fingers and rummaged around in her nail polishes, the only other cosmetic that she had an abundance of.
After some rooting around, she finally came upon her targets, two nail polishes, colored Black Cream and Ice Blue, respectively. Carefully painting on the black, an old sock and a bottle of nail polish remover nearby for accidents, she waved her hands to just about dry, then applied a layer of the sheer, shimmering white polish, something she had done once entirely on a whim, and had discovered that it, strangely, turned a lovely icy dark blue when placed over black.
Grabbing a can of Pam Cooking Spray from under the sink, she sprayed both hands liberally, proving that cooking spray does, in fact, dry nail polish. Waiting a few seconds, Kori washed the remainder of the oil away then inspected her nails for bubbles, missed strokes, or polish on the cuticles, meticulously clearing such defects until perfection was achieved, as was her way when it came to nails.
Rachel would be proud, she thought briefly as she looked in the mirror, finding a darkly beautiful woman looking back.
As she transferred her essentials from her normal green canvas bag, to work-mandatory black Gucci purse, Kori wondered what Richard was up to. He could either be in the kitchen eating her Cap'n Crunch (which she learned to buy two boxes of for times like this), in the living room clicking through her once-charging Ipod, stealing her bills so he could pay them himself (something she vehemently opposed him doing), or still lying on the floor where she had left him. He was so uninhibited, so ready to give into impulses, Kori had learned long ago to stop trying to guess his next move.
And she knew that she herself was the reason for this, frankly because his friends had told her as much. Richard, they told her, had lived much of his life under rules, limitations, and obligations, until he met Kori.
Somehow, she had cut his leash, and he now had a reason and an excuse to be spontaneous. A fact he took advantage of enormously.
He would show up with pizza and challenge her to a high stakes game of Old Maid, or surprise her with a trip to Cedar Point, Ohio on his private jet just to ride the latest roller coaster til they threw up. Or maybe he would take her to a fancy restaurant, only to stare at the tiny food they receive, head for the nearest supermarket to stock up on junk food, and eat it at his place while watching reruns of House MD, still wearing their fancy clothes. Sometimes he would just take her to the Movie Theater.
Any of these scenarios were possible; because the one thing Kori knew that was consistent about Richard Grayson, was he was unpredictable when he was around her.
And she loved it.
As it turns out, none of the set-ups Kori had come up with about what Richard would be doing when she left her room were correct. Instead, she found her fiancé in the kitchen…cooking breakfast.
She watched, mouth agape, as the Prince of Jump City--sleeves of a expensive dark gray shirt rolled up and a very expensive dark green and gold tie thrown over his shoulder--cracked a second egg into a hot frying pan, which also contained a thick slice of turkey.
Adjusting the temperature slightly, and then sprinkling some salt and pepper onto the cooking eggs, he turned his attention to the toaster, which was emitting suspicious plumes of smoke. Grasping the lever and popping the bread up, he took them by the corner and quickly transferred the charred rye onto a plate. Then, picking up a waiting knife, he opened an also waiting jar of apricot jam and spread it over the blackened bread.
This done, he went back to the eggs, scooping them up into a spatula and placing them on the plate. They weren't entirely cooked, the albumen still slightly clear and the yolk entirely runny, but he didn't seem to notice, instead opening her spice cupboard and retrieving the dill and ground mustard. Dashing on an unhealthy amount of both, he then went for the turkey, which seemed to be the only piece of food that looked normally cooked.
That is, until he poured some ketchup onto it.
Finally seeming to be done with his culinary session, Richard picked up the plate, and headed for the table.
He started slightly at immediately coming face to face with his wife-to-be, but he recovered quickly, and held up the plate temptingly.
"Breakfast is ready," he announced with a cheerful grin.
Kori looked down at "breakfast"; at the burnt toast, at the globs of jam that covered them, at the perfectly cooked turkey, at the sweet red condiment covering it, and at the jiggling eggs, covered with yellow powder and green flecks.
She soberly took the warmed china from his grasp and set it down, slowly enough to cause Richard some alarm. "Did--" he began, "did I make it wrong?"
Kori stared down at her breakfast of choice, and her face split into a wide grin. She almost couldn't believe it; not only could her man cook, he also did it willingly, and made her food exactly the way she wanted it to boot.
Moving too fast for him to react, Kori whirled around and shoved her fiancé onto her fridge. "Its perfect," she whispered before engulfing his mouth with a passion, him responding moments after.
I am SO glad I'm marrying him.
On a typical day, when the green-eyed designer made it to work (on time) and pulled into an available parking space, she would normally switch into occupational autopilot.
Today however, Kori pulled into a space, and while she was on time (believe it or not), she did not relinquish herself to her subconscious. Instead, she was digging through her purse the instant she turned off her car. Inspiration had struck during the drive, and Kori wanted to capture the image in her mind before it was lost to her mindless work morning routine.
Since an artist can never tell when an idea will appear, its normal for them to carry around a napkin or a notebook, and obviously a pen, around at almost all times. Kori was no exception, and kept a small mechanical pencil with blank-backed receipts for those times when her Artist's Hand gets to itching.
Quickly but effectively getting the gist of her ideas onto the old Sonic receipt, she stuffed it back into the too-small meeting-appropriate bag, and then allowed programming to kick in.
Gathering her bag and ever-present folder, the red-haired Junior Designer of Jinx's Closet left the parking garage and strolled into the place where work is done, wages are earned, and bills get paid.
It should be said now that it always seemed that there were a large group of men near the lobby around this time, almost as if they were waiting for the crimson haired beauty to arrive.
But Kori always chalked it up to a coincidence.
Regardless, all eyes were riveted on her form as she stepped from the double doors, and a few who were privileged to know her called greetings, to which she cheerfully returned.
Going to the little Starbucks outpost that resided within the large corporate building, the designer smiled as she caught sight of Mitchell, who straightened up immediately on meeting her laughing jasper gaze.
"Good morning Mitchell, how are you?"
"M-morning K-K-Kori." he stuttered, "I'm f-fine."
Kori smiled gently at him, feeling a small amount of pride that she was one of the few people he spoke to. Mitchell had been oxygen-deprived at birth, and was born legally deaf. After a few surgeries, he still had severe hearing loss, and he needed to wear hearing aids if he wanted to hear any more than mumbles. Because of his handicap, his speech was compromised, always speaking with a stutter. Embarrassed by this, he rarely spoke.
Kori set out to change that. It took weeks, but she finally managed to get the guy who made her coffee just right to say more than just repeating her order and wishing her a nice day. Something she was very proud of.
"S-so the usu-usual?"
"Nah, I got attacked by they Design Bunny on the way in, I'll have the other usual."
Mitchell grinned, "Design B-Bunny. Th-that always c-cr-cracks m-me up."
"Maybe it does," she retorted playfully, "but 'muse' and 'inspiration' are such overused terms."
Mitchell continued to grin as he punched in Kori's "other usual".
"S-so a medium caramel-raspberry cappuccino with an amaretto shot, whipped cream, and cinnamon sprinkles?"
Kori nodded, always noticing that her friend didn't stutter when he rattled off orders. He never did.
"So, how did you like Byron?" she asked as he made her drink.
"It w-w-was h-hard," he admitted as he watched the creamy brown liquid descend into the cup, "N-not like Uncle W-Walt."
She nodded again, hiding her expression by digging in her too-small purse. Not long ago, she had casually suggested that he try reading poetry aloud to help with his stammer. At first offended, he didn't speak to her for a few days, but she persisted, and gave him a copy of Walt Whitman's works as a gift. More silence ensued and Kori fretted, thinking she had just lost herself a friend. One day though, he quietly repeated her order, and even quieter, quoted a few stanzas from "O Captain, My Captain."
He had barely stuttered.
Everyday conversation was still a challenge, but his poetry reading was becoming masterful. The warm, happy feeling at helping a person with a huge problem kept her guilt about Roy down for days.
No Kori, she told herself, It wasn't your fault; he was the one who refused to change.
But another, more truthful, less tactful part of her spoke up. True, but your still the one who got yourself into the situation. Fell for another charity case, wasted three years--
"H-hey, are your Ok-kay?"
Snapping from her unwelcome inner argument, she automatically handed over her money and took her coffee, mentally thanking Mitchell for saving her some self-loathing.
"I'm fine," she reassured herself as well as him, "Just jittery about the wedding."
"Wh-when is it?"
She looked up theatrically in thought, "Oh, about 36 days and some-odd hours that I wont bother to count because I'm not cliché or OCD like that."
Mitchell chuckled and handed over her change. "R-Richard's a l-lucky g-guy."
She took the coins, but held onto his hand, catching his attention. (As if it had wavered)
"I'm pretty fortunate too," she said, eyes sparkling with joy. "You are coming to the wedding right?"
Mitchell rolled his eyes and blew out an exasperated breath, "F-for the last t-time Kori, ye-yes, I'm c-coming. I w-wouldn't m-miss it."
She responded with a playful pout and took a sip of her drink, humming at the taste. "Thank you Mitchell, have a nice day!" she called as she walked off.
"Th-that's m-my line!" he called after her, grinning.
"Hurrup-hum." Suddenly he was aware that there were other people in the line. Guys to be specific, and all seemed to be glaring at him, jealousy plain in their expressions.
Mitchell raised an eyebrow; he always felt more confident after talking to his friend. "C-can I help you?"
At one time, Kori had never been able to understand why Richard complained so much about business meetings.
Then she went to one.
Continuous, endless, droning. These were constant factors in those boring little get-togethers that stuffed tons of people into a too-small room to talk about things that could just as easily gotten across with a nice memo.
Kori could cram 4 hours of nonstop lecturing into a single long sentence. Neutral is the new Black, Yellow is the new Pink, loose and flowing is In, subdued ruffles yes, strict pleats no, fancy flip flops over open-toed sandals, and somebody please design a trendy new skirt before the competition does.
Oh, and please stop putting various "caricatures" of Mrs. West in silly outfits on the bulletin boards. Kori giggled at that one, no one knew that she had actually sketched a couple of them herself.
But after the tortuous ritual was over, Kori found herself back at her lovely cubicle on the floor below. Jin had never quite understood why someone of Kori's status chose a dreary cubicle over a proper office, but being someone who continuously worked with artists and the weird little demands they had, the pink-haired CEO decided the concession was relatively trivial and there was no harm in humoring it.
The truth was, Kori didn't like the grandeur and solitude of an office. She worked best when there were sounds around her. Papers shuffling, pens scratching, the clacking of keyboards, people talking on phones or each other; that was her artistic zone.
Besides, how could anyone work when they had the temptation of the view that could be seen through her would-be office? Kori had nearly taken the room, solitude or not, just for the glorious vista of uptown Gotham. It was even more beautiful from Richard's office.
She smiled as she remembered the times she saw out that window when she was delivering messages to that room, though when it was occupied by Mr. Wayne. Now though, it was strange to go into Wayne Enterprises, or "The Tower" as Richard dubbed it, without grabbing a stack of files to sort. In fact, when she had been waiting on Richard, who had been held up with a conference call, Kori had sat down at an empty cubicle and answered the phone ringing there, hoping that she could take a message for the missing Messenger, or better yet, take care of it herself and do a good deed.
Turns out, it was an easy matter, and no sooner had Kori set the phone on its cradle, than a passing superior dropped a stack of files onto the counter, followed by some messages that needed to be delivered immediately.
Kori had opened her mouth to explain, but the man continued on uncaringly, as this was the usual treatment of those in the lower rungs of the business ladder. Rolling her eyes (she was supposed to be past this now) she glanced at her phone. One new text:
wil die soon. kori, sve me! luv rich.
She shrugged and closed the phone. Nothing new then…well, it wasn't like she had anything better to do…
When Melvin Magines returned to her cubicle, she was sure she would find a stack of files and an angry lecture, if not a pink slip. All because Timmy couldn't seem to understand that she had a real job now, and could no longer babysit him. So her astonishment was easily understood when she found all messages in the "Out" box, and some neatly filed folders waiting to be taken to the File Room.
She also found something else: a small drawing on a post-it note, featuring a 2-dimensional replica of the little stuffed bear she had seated on top of her computer.
Holding the sketch, she looked into the beady black eyes of the crudely sewn toy. "Bobby…do you know who did this?"
Bobby didn't answer.
Kori giggled to herself as she remembered watching that exchange from afar; there was something rather refreshing about seeing a teenager still acting like a little kid. The girl even had her short blonde hair in pigtails if she recalled correctly.
Her mind drifted to a new topic, that of pigtails. X'hal, when was the last time I wore them? I must've been what? Five? Six? Or wait, I did wear them that one time, when I…wow, it was when I met Roy.
Roy. She sobered, and her mind cautiously drifted to that day when she attended a simple volleyball game and ended it with the beginning of a three year mistake.
She smiled bitterly; before that day she had been practically famous for her taste for Absinthe and being able to drink anyone under the table. After that day, she barely ever touched the sauce, and the sight and smell of Absinthe still makes her stomach twist.
That reminded her! Did she put Manuel and Miguel on the invitation list? After a few moments of mentally reviewing the guest list, she realized that she had not, and was therefore scandalized. How could she?! Those boys had been her friends since middle school, had taught her Spanish, had both harbored crushes that bordred on idolic worship of her! And she had nearly forgotten to invite them! But then again...it was always awkward to watch guys cry at weddings, and she had the distinct feeling that theirs would not be from happiness. And that was best case scenario. Worst case involved bodily harm to the groom and yelling--quite loudly and colorfully--in Spanish when the "why shouldn't these two be wed" line came up.
She shook off her vivid dreadful imaginings and decided to call them anyway. If anything, they'll fit the empty role of that relative who embarasses everyone. I just wish I could see their faces when they get the invitations. She grinned and further steeled her resolve.
Dropping her sketch pencil, Kori reached for the phone, then stopped as she noticed how her hand ached. As usual, while her mind had wandered, she had drawn something. She looked at her handiwork in anticipation; she had gotten some of her best ideas when she hadn't thought about them.
It was a skirt that looked a clown threw up on it.
Several messengers, data enterers, and supplies personnel paused and exchanged confused looks as loud laughter exploded across the room.
Still giggling, Kori tore the page away and tossed it on top of her constantly overflowing trash can, and resumed her search of her cell phone. On finding it, she noticed a text from Richard.
meet me 4 lnch or wil vote 4 Summr Xp
Kori rolled her eyes; sometimes she wondered if she was marrying a 12-year-old trapped in a 24-year-old's body. cant hav that o.o She typed in reply. caysadila sond ok?
The reply came instantly, which proved that yes, Richard wasnt doing any work. c u at rositas mi amore
She smiled gently. Then again, 12-year-olds didnt write things like that. luv u 2
Finally, she got to her original plan.
"This is Katherine."
"Hey Katie," Kori greeted her Wedding Coodinator.
"Kori! You must've read my mind, I was about to call you. The caterer called this morning and claimed it impossible to meet our order, and after several minutes and some choice Itallian words from him that I don't care to repeat, Miles calmed down and...long story short, you will still be having Tortellini Carbonara for the reception. I'm still clinging to the hope that I can talk you out of Itallian; all those staining sauces and fancy dresses, not to mention the garlic breath, its just not a good idea Kori. Still, its your wedding, not mine. Anyway I secured our DJ a few moments ago; it took some haggling, but we've agreed on a price that wont break us. We've also compiled a list of songs--your chosen ones among them of course--and I'd like to meet up and have both of your approvals on them, make sure that you haven't forgotten any requests. Other than that, you just need to come for your last fitting in a few days, and we'll both be able to relax until the week before the Big Day. Reserve your strength for that time, because it WILL be chaos."
Kori smiled widely. Katie had once again proven herself as capable as Jinny said she was.
And when the bride-to-be explained that she had two previously-forgotten people to invite, Katie displayed her talents of multitasking, by calling the engraver on her other phone for two more invitations to be made, texting Miles and ordering the Itallian chef to add two more plates to the order no matter the cost, demanding the people in charge of seating to make room for the recent additions, and ranting at Kori on how inconvenient and impolite she was being for adding two more guests at the last minute.
All at the same time.
But Kori wasn't fooled. Jin had told her about Katherine Sines when she had recommended her. The reason Katie had become a Wedding Planner was because she had been completely bored with her easy, hassle-free life of an heiress, and had longed for problems. More specifically, problems she could solve. And few other events have more crisis's arise on a daily basis than a wedding for those with silver spoons welded to their molars.
So the bride-to-be knew good and well that the little lecture she was recieving was just a façade covering the WP's true excitement that a wrench had been thrown into the works that, previously, had seemed to be heading for smooth runnings.
But still, the lecture was required; honestly, could you say that you wouldn't take a step backward from a person who exclaimed in delight when something went wrong?
Didn't think so.
"Well, you're here, so I guess I wont vote for her, but if you do a little dance…you will most definitely have my vote."
"Not in front of the locals Richard."
"Oh, so I can look forward to a routine when we're alone?"
"Buenos tardes, my name is Ellie, how're you two today?"
Richard and Kori blinked and looked at the person who had intruded on their playful bantering. Their waitress, Ellie apparently, looked no older than 17 and was strikingly beautiful for someone who worked at a restaraunt. Clear maple brown skin, straight black hair pulled into a barrette, and impossibly large brown eyes that sparkled almost as much as her pearly whites as her full lips parted in a smile.
And to her credit, she didn't fawn or flirt when she found herself at the recieving end of Richard Grayson's charming blue eyes. Instead, her eyes simply widened when he informed her that "he was great, how was she?" and her voice quivered only the slightest bit when she answered that she was good and could she get them something to drink.
But when she jotted down their orders, she rounded the table to get to the kitchen, and gave Kori a massive thumbs up as she pointed at Richard behind his back, hero-worship plain in her eyes.
Kory swallowed her giggles.
"What's got you so happy?" Richard demanded, searching her face as if the answer would appear on her forehead.
"You have another fan," she stated simply, nodding to the long black hair that streamed behind their server as she darted into the kitchen to get their drinks, shouting something spiteful in Spanish to another within who had made a rather embarassing comment.
His instinctive response was a smirk, but on remembering his significant other, he mutated it into a grimace, then as he realized that Kori had a smile on her face instead of the usual jealous snarl, his expression simply melted into one of confusion.
His fiancé allowed her giggles to escape her this time, "Hey, why don't you give her something to squeal about?"
Black eyebrows rose high, "You want me to...flirt with her?" He searched her face again, this time to make sure she wasn't sick or some imposter Kori.
"Every girl likes to have an experience to hyperventilate over and brag about later. Besides, the charms of Richard Grayson should not belong to one girl alone."
Floored was a good way to describe his feelings when Kor said that, but then he had an abrupt insight. As jealous--and rather violent--as she was to the women who shamelessly threw themselves at him, she never did seem to mind his smooth-talking to ladies who had more pride.
Ellie was, suddenly, there, placing an iced tea in front of him and a lemonade before Kori, asking if they were ready to order, a friendly, unthreatening smile on her face.
Richard decided in that moment that Kori was right. The polite, pretty waitress they had deserved a little thrill.
Thrilled was a vast understatement. When Richard requested their food in flawless Spanish, a rich undertone to his tenor voice, with an attentive smile on his smooth lips and a look in the half-lidded blue eyes trained on her small form that seemed to say, I want to talk to you, you fascinate me, she...fluttered...inside.
Dios Mio...¿Es un sueno o realidad?
Richard watched Kori with suspicion as she watched Ellie with amusement as the poor dazzled girl stumbled into the kitchen to deliver their order and no doubt have a mild heart attack.
"Why?" he voiced his thoughts without preamble.
Using her innate ability to always know what he means, her answer was as light as her eyes. "I've always belived that a man and a woman, when they start dating or become something more to one another, shouldn't be unallowed to look at another member of the opposite sex with appreciation. Women who fly into rages when their boy's take a second glance at a beautiful woman, demanding that he look at her and her alone for as long as they are together are restrictive and unrealistic. If you have so little trust in your partner that any person they may look at is a threat, then they shouldn't be together. As for me and you; if a pretty lady came strolling by this table and you checked her out, I wouldn't be bothered, but that is because I trust you to always return your attention back to me." She chuckled, "And chances are, I would be checking her out too, any girl who manages to get your undivided attention must be exceptional."
Richard's mouth hung open as his deep blue eyes stared at the extraordinary women before him. What she had just described, that was one of his biggest pet peeves about the women he had dated, their insatiable need to be at the center of his attention, bestowing terrible rage on anyone else who caught it, as well as he himself for letting it be diverted.
Truth to tell, he had been worried about his wandering eye when it came to Kori. True, she was gorgeous (one of God's greatest works, he liked to call her) but it was like being in an art gallery, your favorite piece before you. You admire the lines, the details, the colors, the hard work that went into making it, but there are other artworks in the room too, other masterpieces that deserved admiration.
But they could never compare to your favorite.
And somehow, without a word from him, she understood that. God above I love her.
Words crashed through his head, affectionate, passionate, elated, all jumbling together into lines and sentences as he tried to sift through them all, to decide which one would best express how he felt at that moment. All seemed to fall short.
But fortunately, Kori didn't need a corny line (if I didnt have a fiance, I'd propose right now) or some epic verse that would put all other poets to shame (Shall I compare thee to a summer's day-- Crap, that 's been done). She could see it all in his clear blue eyes.
Kori clenched her mouth shut as Ellie all but dropped her chalupas and Richard's enchiladas onto the table when Richard expressed a sincere thanks for the food and replied only with a mumbled "denada" before sprinting back to the kitchen. Once out of earshot, Kori pressed her napkin to her mouth and realeased gale after gale of laughter into it.
"What?" Richard smirked as he poured salsa onto his enchiladas and cut them into bite-sized pieces. Kori lifted the crisp tortilla de maize covered with carne con pollo, tomates, y queso and took a bite to regain her composure.
"If we could harness that charismatic nature of yours and throw it at all world leaders, there would be no wars." Her voice held a sage wisdom that was utterly ruined by the wide grin on her face. And any hope to regain that sageness was lost when an uncommon devious look crossed the redhead's lovely face as she leaned forward and whispered something into her handsome companion's face.
Who after a few seconds of blinking, soon mirrored her conniving look.
Later on, after the diabolically hott man left with the gorgeous lucky wench (or maybe not so lucky, considering how her boyfriend didn't mind flirting right in front of her), Ellie heaved a sigh of disappointment coupled with relief and started clearing the plates from the table. Catching sight of five green pieces of paper, obviously her tip, she picked them up and unfolded the bills.
Many patrons and staff who were in Rosita's at that moment looked up in surprise at the pretty young waitress all but shouting colorful Spanish experlatives, staring at five twenty dollar bills clutched in her small brown hand.
Well, I had SAID this would be a twoshot...but I realized that it would be WAAAAAAAY too long, both to read and to wait for. SO! Out of the kindness (and mostly guilt) of my (admittedly out of shape) updating heart, Frayed Nickels is going to be a multi-chapter fic so you guys wont have to keep on wondering when or even if I was gonna write this story.
Well I am. Be glad.
Roses are red,
Daisies are yellow.
If you don't review,
I might kill this sexy young fellow
(holds gun to Richard's head)
Richard: Wait. WHAT?!
Me: MUHUHAHAHA!!
L8r,
SAT:)