"Hey, Spinelli!." Maxie called to him in a singsong voice as she breezed into the living room at Kate's holding a stack of folders and a binder of photographs. "Are you done yet?"
"Done?" He continued to type away on his keyboard as he spoke. "The Junior Fashionista obviously does not understand the complexities of designing an entire network from the ground up. When the Reigning Fashionista returns from her excursion to the European continent, I must have a working system in place. As you well know, Miss Kate Howard is a demanding and - exacting - employer."
"So, you don't have time for lunch?" Maxie held up a bag from Kelly's and the aroma made Spinelli's mouth water - his work ethic momentarily shaken.
"Cheeseburgers?"
Maxie strutted over to the dining room table "Uh huh – and orange soda and chips – your favorite." Spin's eyes lit up at the thought that Maxie had thought about him and knew what his favorites were. Maxie pulled the feast from the paper bag as Spinelli was inexorably drawn from his cyber world.
"The sustenance is much appreciated." He rubbed his hands in anticipation.
"Well, Kate left me in charge. How would it look if I let her network designer pass out from hunger?" She teased "Oh - I got these – see if you like them." She threw a purple bag at him.
"Pringles Select Szechuan Barbecue Rice Chips??" Spinelli eyed them suspiciously but opened them anyway and tried one. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "These are delightful! They remind me of the Chinese food that Sam - formerly known as The Goddess - also formerly known as Everyday Heroes Sam - used to bring home all the time. A taste sensation, Junior Fashionista. The Jackal thanks you."
Maxie grinned, happy that her surprise had been a success. Then she wondered briefly why it mattered to her, but the thought was quickly replaced by Spinelli brushing his hair across his face as he munched. It was exasperating the way he did that all the time. Why didn't he get a haircut or something?
"OK – lunch is served." The two sat eating Mike's cheeseburgers off waxed paper at Kate's fifteen thousand dollar glass-topped table as Spinelli listened to her go on and on about a conference call she had had with Kate and some guy named Michael Kors (Coors - like the beer? he thought) about his spring collection.
He didn't understand anything she said in regard to the fashion, but he couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm and his heart was so glad for her that she was finally happy. He had been afraid that she had been permanently broken after Georgie and Cooper had been killed. Even though she had put on a brave and determined face, he knew that her younger sister's death had changed everything about her outlook on the world.
Selfishly, he had to wonder if that had something to do with the fact that they had become so close. Had the death of Wise and Loyal Georgie been the impetus for his own happiness? If so, how in a fair and just world did that make sense? He only hoped that Georgie herself looked down upon them and had her hand in it. After all, she had been an incurable romantic.
Spinelli brushed his hair across his face absentmindedly while still attempting to decipher the fashion vocabulary of brocade and someone called Jimmy Choo.
"Why do you keep doing that?" Maxie interrupted her monologue and looked at him. She apparently expected him to answer but he had no earthly idea what she was talking about. He thought dejectedly that somehow he had managed to annoy her simply by listening attentively.
"Huh – um, to what are you referring, Fashionista?" He nervously swiped at his too long bangs again.
"That!!" she pointed at him – "right there!! Ooooh! It drives me crazy – do you know you do that about a hundred times a day?"
"Uh, I do?" He was still not completely sure what she was talking about.
"When was the last time you got your hair cut?"
"Um," Spinelli screwed up his face and concentrated. He knew he had gotten a hair cut since the Black and White Ball but he couldn't place the actual date.
"And who cut it for you – Edward Scissorhands?"
"Do you refer to the dark and tragic dramedy by Mr. Tim Burton starring the chameleon-like and creative actor Johnny Depp?"
"You know who Johnny Depp is?" Spinelli was about to confirm that he did indeed know who Johnny Depp was when Maxie interrupted again. "Never mind. Come with me!" She commanded, then stood up and held out her hand.
"Um – I'm sorry? Wh- where are we going??" He didn't know what was happening but took her hand anyway. As if he had a choice. She dragged him along the hallway and into an enormous room. It was decorated in creams and golds and looked like what he imagined Versailles's lavatory looked like.
"This is Kate's in-house salon. She has a stylist come over and do her hair and this other lady to do manis and pedis and stuff. Pretty cool, huh?" Spinelli had no clue what a mani or a pedi was so he just looked blankly at her, petrified. "Sit!" Maxie pointed to a chair in front of a sink. She was going to drown him? He had made her that mad?
"Why - do you want me to sit?" He looked around for an escape, perhaps an Army Ranger-like leap and roll from the window was in order. He had seen it in a movie once and was almost sure he could do it.
"I'm not going to hurt you. Now sit!!" He started to sit "Wait! You should take off your shirt first."
Spinelli almost choked. "What?!" he yelped.
"Take – off – your – shirt. Otherwise you'll get hair all in it."
"What are you planning on doing to me - Merciless - Fashionista??" Spinelli quaked as he eyed the scissors she had taken out of a drawer. His eyes grew large at the thought that he would wind up with a most Un Jackal-like Stone Cold-ish flat top. "I do not require a hair cut today – huh – You see - I was planning on heading down to the Port Charles Galleria on Saturday where there is a very nice septuagenarian who cuts The Jackal's hair and regales him with tales of her grand-progeny. So you see? I don't need you to cut my hair." He begged for his life. He knew that this was a battle of wills and only the strong would survive.
Maxie put a stern look on her face and a hand on her hip. She pointed at him with the sharp tip of the scissors. "Shirt. Sit. Now." All was lost – his only hope now was the fact that his penchant for hats would disguise the damage. Spinelli gulped and reluctantly and uncomfortably stripped his shirt over his head. Sitting down miserably he crossed his arms shyly in front of his bare chest.
Maxie felt a strange sensation at the sight of him taking his shirt off. She frowned and threw him a towel. "Um, here." She spun around and started searching for shampoo and conditioner in a cabinet. She hoped that Spinelli hadn't seen her face turn fuchsia.
Thankfully, when she turned back, Spinelli had covered himself with the towel and though he looked mortified at the thought of her styling his hair, he hadn't bolted yet.
She kicked off her high heels and padded over to the sink running water over her hand until the water turned warm. "Lean back." Spinelli scooched down into the seat and reluctantly leaned his head back into the hair washing basin. He looked up at her like a puppy begging to be given a reprieve. She smiled at him, amused by his trepidation. "You'll be fine - I promise." She pulled the detachable faucet out and wet his hair down, laughing at the way he scrunched his eyes up. "It's not too cold, is it?"
"Uh – no - the temperature is - acceptable." Spinelli was shivering, not at the temperature of the water but rather at the feel of her hands as she ran her fingers through his hair and behind his neck. It felt excruciatingly pleasant and he was glad to have his eyes closed for protection. But when she started shampooing his hair, the sensations that stirred in him were unbearable and he made the mistake of opening them. Her china blue eyes gazed into his own.
Maxie stared down into his eyes - the color an indescribable mix of sage and sea glass. Why had she never noticed that before? She had talked to him every day for months and she never noticed that? And the slight stubble on his chin? The thought of him shaving in the morning was a new and uncomfortably intimate concept to her. She had never even really thought of him as male. A male that shaved and showered and smelled like a man should, like soap and rain. And had he always looked like that? Surely, she would have noticed. Had she become so consumed with herself that she didn't even notice him as a man? Then again, this was Spinelli. She imagined what it would be like if she leaned over and kissed him. It would have been simple, just one little kiss, just to see what it would be like. Like scientific research. To see if she was still interested in dating. Shaking some sense into herself, she rinsed and conditioned his hair.
A few minutes later, a dry towel wrapped around his shoulder, he sat unhappily, a captive to her ministrations. Surely, she wouldn't make him look foolish. Maxie combed his wet hair as she chattered happily again about the fashion world. When she wielded the scissors for the first time, a cold horror paralyzed him. Maxie didn't notice and snipped away at the ends of his bangs and he nearly hyperventilated as he saw the shards fall to the ground around him.
"Spinelli – you look like I'm torturing you!" she teased. "Don't worry – I won't make it too short. I know you don't want to have a Jason haircut or anything." She gently brushed some hair off the bridge of his nose. Spinelli tried to relax.
To further torment him, when she had completed her butcher job, she put product in his hair and submitted him to the humiliation of a blow dryer. His hair had never known anything like this ordeal and he didn't know if he would recover. A case of PTSD was building as he sat.
"OK – you're done." Maxie stared at him as she took in the final product. When she had been working on his hair, she didn't really notice how he looked as a whole. She couldn't believe the miracle that had made Spinelli – well – handsome.
Spinelli couldn't take it any longer and he turned to see the destruction in the mirror. What he saw however, was nothing short of astounding. Instead of the dork he saw in the mirror every miserable day, he saw someone who was – well - handsome. It was disturbing to him that she did this for him. Why would she care?
"Um, thank you, Fashionista. It is most - surprising." His tumbling words - always a nervous habit, always so present and bothersome - had left him. He gazed down at her, imagining asking her to dinner, her accepting and the two of them going out on a real date. It was as foolish as all his other film noir fantasies, but this one hurt, because he knew it couldn't happen.
"Yeah – surprising." She returned his look, acutely aware that the space between them had shrunk; and also aware that he was half undressed. Before she knew what she was doing, she had reached up and pulled his head down to hers, when their lips met, an electric shock went through both of them. It was a sweet, tender kiss with hints of the passion that Spinelli had never thought would happen to him.
When their lips parted, Maxie still had her hand gently at the base of his neck and her hand was on his chest. She looked like she was in shock.
Carpe Diem, Jackal he thought "Um – F-Fash - Maxie?" Spinelli stuttered.
"Yeah?" She managed the single syllable.
"Do - do you want to go to dinner with me?"
Maxie smiled tentatively, she knew Spinelli would be the most complicated relationship of her life. She was in no way ready for it. "Yeah. Sure."
Spinelli grinned. For the first time in his life, he – The Jackal - not some Unworthy One - got the girl.
