A/N - Yay reviews and alerts and people reading something I wrote! Thank you again. CF stands for clusterfuck (in case I'm not the only one who's learning that this week). I figured it would fit nicely into Sookie's meaning-but-not-actually-saying-cursewords vocabulary. I hope the pace isn't too slow for anyone. This magical borrowed week she's on is all in the vein of book four. Not to spoil too much, but yes, Bill will be rearing his ugly head again. Eric will be dropping out of sight for a while in the future (sorry). I'm pretty sure I'm going to skip the Quinn dalliance entirely. Non-telepathic Sookie has a more solid friend network, and won't have to seek comfort in the arms of the first pansy-eye to call her Babe. Okay, onwards.


I found Pam in the changing room of the spa waiting for me, already tucked into a shorter version of the plush robes found in our rooms. I'd been handed one when I came in, and I just started undressing and folding my clothes into one of the lockers. I'm a pretty modest woman in general, but sharing a communal bathroom at the sorority house had left me pretty comfortable about my body around other women, at least in a situation like this.

"I knew they were real," she teased.

"Owe someone a dollar Pam?" I'd calmed down, but I still wasn't feeling great, and my tone had a bit of acid in it.

"You look a bit like hell, Sookie," she said after an appraising moment when I turned around.

"I feel a bit like hell, Pam," I replied.

"So Eric's said basically nothing beyond the fact that you've left Compton and are planning to move back to Bumblefuck. I'm not even really clear on why you're here, specifically. Are you going to fill me in?"

"Yeah, alright. I'm warning you now though, I'm expecting sympathy, and total indignation on my behalf. In heaps, Pam." I am completely serious.

"Okay, Sookie," she answered docilely.

"Well let's go let strangers rub on us for a few hours and I'll tell you all about it."

I gave her the full, unabridged version of my last two days while we were scrubbed, turned, buffed, and waxed. Normally a spa is supposed to be soothing and calm, but we completely ignored that rule while we were being worked over. Having your eyebrows ripped out at the roots while strangers brutally rub sandy clay all over your body is not exactly relaxing anyway. Even the woman exfoliating my calves couldn't help but agree with Pam that Bill was lower than pond scum, and she was nodding her approval the whole time I explained that I was refusing to talk to him or hear his excuses. Good as her word, Pam was appropriately empathetic. Lafayette had been right about the sisterhood thing. I might call some girls later and see if I could get another dose tomorrow.

Since I'd broken down in angry, frustrated tears again during my retelling, I took up the very tactful offer of a "cooling face and eye treatment." I found myself in a cloistered relaxation room with Pam, covered in cucumber jelly while we listened to the sound of rain and ambient wind chimes. I was sprawled out on a padded table, draped with a towel, with my eyes closed. They had to be really, since my lids were coated with slime. It actually did feel incredibly soothing.

"So, I have questions," she started, testing the waters a few minutes after we'd been abandoned to seek serenity.

"Go ahead," I said, waving her permission as though she could see me. Maybe she'd feel the air move.

"Mostly filling in the blanks," she continued. "You and Bill were living down here, but you also have a house up north?"

"It's my Gran's house. The house I grew up in. She left it to me when she died last year. We'd been maintaining it, using it for weekends, fixing it up a little, sorting through all her stuff a little bit at a time. It's pretty much empty now. There's still some furniture, but that's all. We were trying to find a tenant for a couple of months, but we didn't, so we just closed it up. My brother's still up there though, so he's been able to check in on the place."

"But why wouldn't you want to stay down here?"

"I don't know. It's not like I wouldn't want to, I love it here, but that's home. I feel like I need solid ground right now, more than anything."

"I can see that," she paused. "But you're sort of starting over, yes?"

"Yes," I agreed.

"So is Bumblefuck where you want to start over?"

"Bon Temps."

"Whatever. Is that where you intend to build your life?"

"I don't see why I couldn't. It's a nice place. Small, but nice. You know your neighbors and the mailman, and you stop and talk to the church ladies in the supermarket. It's a nice life."

"Since you're barely bothering, do I even need to call you on your bullshit?"

"My brother is probably the most contented guy I've ever met, and he's never left home," I say.

"Sookie, as near as I can tell from what you've told me of him, your brother is a dimwitted," she talked right over me as I started to object, "albeit loyal, kind, and loveable," she stressed quickly, "...redneck, who'd probably be just as contented anywhere on earth so long as there was beer and a flatscreen." Okay, she had me there.

"And where would you have me Pam? Go ahead and solve my life then, please," I said, sounding tired.

"I think here."

I sighed. "I just don't know."

"Well, you have the week. I think that's why Eric's kept you here. To give you time to figure things out."

"Huh," I answered.

"Well, that and to try to get in your pants, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," I said. I was sure.

"Any thoughts on that you care to share?"

I answered her with a sigh.

"That's not a no," she finally said.

"It's not a yes. How he carries on...it's just not my style."

"How he carries on with you isn't exactly his style, either."

"Meaning?"

"It's kids on the playground when it comes to you, Sookie. He's been pulling your pigtails for two years, and now he's got you here and it just isn't like him. He seems to be actually concerned for you as well, which is definitely not like him."

"I've been kind of shocked, to be honest," I admit. "He's been crazy sweet on the whole."

"Exactly."

Huh. She'd left me with a lot to ponder. The attendants came in to clean us up then, and we said no more as we were lead away to separate rooms. I had a forty-five minute massage and it was wonderful. I zoned out completely and for that short time, I didn't have a care in the world. They lead me out to the mani/pedi room and I hopped up into one of the chairs while Alma got to work on my feet. She was good. I might have been drooling by the time they led Pam over. She oozed into a chair and they quickly immersed her extremities in warm paraffin.

"This is just what I needed," she murmured.

"Mmm," I couldn't help but agree.

It was close to six by the time we were dressing again to leave. I decided to take a walk. If I went back to the room now, I'd just fall asleep. Before heading out, I checked my phone and found a few messages waiting for me, so I sat down in the lobby to send my replies, waving Pam goodbye as she headed upstairs to her rooms. One of the replies to my change of number text was from Amelia, and simply read, "That's a NO area code."

I'd known Amelia Broadway since freshman year, we were in the same hall in the dorms. We'd bonded pretty quickly, even before we decided to pledge together. She'd come home with me for Thanksgiving and fallen in love with my grandmother. Consequently she'd been a frequent guest on school breaks and weekend laundry runs. Yes, we made four hour drives on the pretence of doing our laundry for free. Gran's fried chicken lunches on Saturdays and her Sunday dinners had nothing to do with it. Truly. Okay I'm a liar. We showed up hungry about once a month and she spoiled us, and we loved it. Amelia only had her father and they weren't close, so she was happy to be adopted and we were happy to have her.

She's a property manager here in town. Her father had given her a rental property for graduation. Meaning a whole three-storey building. She'd turned it into luxury apartments and had been shopping for a second property last month. She could probably offer some sage counsel on several fronts. I didn't bother with a message and just called her up directly.

"Sookie, what the hell?" she demanded, by way of answering.

"Hey Ames," I hedged.

"Hey Sookie," she mocked back in my same flat tone before demanding again, "What. The hell."

"Bill's a great big jerk. I'm home. Ish. I'm in town."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I just got here yesterday by way of CF. Are you busy tomorrow?"

"I will un-busy. What's going on?"

"Tomorrow, please Broadway?" I ask, putting a little whine in. I'm not doing this again today.

"Where are you?"

"Heaven, actually," I steered the conversation into calmer waters by starting to gush about the hotel.

"Oh, I know that place, Sten Northman owns that," she said. "I've been trying to push Dad toward hotels. Those little boutiques are really the thing right now," she rambles on as I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it for a moment. Well that explains a few things. Moving on for now.

"You should come for the spa sometime," I tried, "It's just fabulous. We just got out."

"We?"

Darn it. "Tomorrow Amelia, please?"

"Fine. Come for lunch, I can clear my afternoon but I'm meeting contractors in the morning. And there will be full disclosure," she emphasized.

"Full disclosure," I agreed.

"So are you back?" she asked.

I sighed, "I'm here. That's all you're getting cause it's all I've got."

"Alright hun, I'll see you tomorrow."

We hung up and I sauntered outside for a stroll. I was still feeling pretty mellow. It was getting dark again but it was still warm, and I wandered along the winding streets with no particular destination. When I passed a sporting goods shop, I popped in to buy another workout outfit and a headband. I ambled. Meandered. I may even have been traipsing. I wondered if Sten was Eric's dad or his grandfather. I could probably look it up on the phone and find a picture or a company profile or something, but it seemed to me I should just ask him. How to bring that up tactfully, I did not know. I knew he came from money, because in the beginning Bill has been really keen on impressing him and trying to make the social connection there. It wasn't a big deal to me. Amelia came from money. A few of the girls from school did. So his family owned a hotel. Actually, considering the familiarity Amelia had shown with the name Sten Northman, I could bet that it was probably more than one. Still, it was basically a whatever.

It was weird that he didn't just tell me though. It certainly accounted for the red carpet treatment I'd been receiving as his guest. Trudy from the desk had mentioned the connection to his business as well, so maybe it was the standard story that all his guests got? Did he have a lot of guests? Pert and bouncy female ones at that? But she'd mistaken me for working for him. Pam must have known, but she actually does work for him. I'd just have to ask. I was grateful for what he'd given me, whether he'd used a business or a family connection to give it. It was more than generous.

I stopped for a coffee and then found a bench to sit upon so I could watch the world go by. Seattle is good for its coffee, but you don't really find the chicory outside of Louisiana. I held it under my nose just inhaling until it cooled enough to drink. It kind of did smell like home. My phone rang, it was Eric.

"Hey," I answered. "What's up?"

"Hey Sookie, how are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm good. Thank you for the spa, Eric. It was lovely, Pam was lovely, the whole afternoon has been really great."

"Pam was lovely?" he queries in disbelief.

"Yeah. You should hang out with her sometime, she's pretty great," I suggest with a serious tone. Since Pam's job was basically to be in Eric's business all day, every day, I was trying to be amusing.

"She must want to bang you," he replies.

"Funny, that's what she said of you," I retort.

"Doesn't make it any less true," Which? "Listen, I'm back at the hotel, you didn't answer when I knocked. Are you in your room?"

"Nah. Sittin' on a park bench, sippin' coffee," I pause and take another sip for effect. "Everything okay? You're out early, right?"

"Yeah, change of plans. Well, planned surprise on their part, probably. Peter Threadgill's in town. He owns Arkansas Confederate. He's their Sophie Ann, but a bit more involved. Anyway, he's asked us to join him for dinner. You as well, of course," he continued with a chuckle. "I tried to use you as an excuse to get out of it, you know, my friend's in town this week, we're having dinner. And he just said to bring you along. It's a social thing, you know, grease the wheels."

"Hmm. Where? I mean, what's the dress? I got a little cocktail dress yesterday just to cover bases if I wanted to go out while I'm here, but it's not terribly fancy."

"That sounds fine. If it's not, I'm sure Pam will tell you," he said.

"I'm sure she will," I said, getting to my feet. "When are we leaving?"

"We've got an hour, how far away are you?"

"Not too far I think," I headed toward the nearest corner to get my bearings. I really hadn't been paying attention in the slightest. "No," I said, recognizing the street. "I'm just a few blocks over. Ten minutes, if that."

"Sookie are you alright? You sound a little strange."

"I'm fine Eric, I just have a lot on my mind," I bit my lip as I walked. "I'm sorry about this morning. You just surprised me, and I..."

"Sookie, it's fine. Get back, I'll see you in a bit."

He hung up and I walked with more purpose back to the hotel. It wouldn't take me long to get ready since I didn't plan on a shower. I was enjoying smelling like whichever oil the masseuse had used on me, so I'd just dress and fix my hair and put on a bit of makeup.

Trudy was on the desk again and waved her hello as I passed, asking after the afternoon she'd booked for us. "It was just wonderful Trudy, thank you. And Pam was pleased as punch as well. You're really spoiling us!" She beamed back at my praise and told me I was more than welcome before I headed upstairs.

The dress is pretty cute on. It's simple black silk v-neck that does justice to the girls with a narrowing bodice. The skirt flares just a bit over the hip and ends a couple inches above the knee. I wish I had heels to wear with it. My black flats are also slightly worse for wear after last night's footrace. I tried to smooth some of the scuffs off the leather, but it wasn't a great job. I pulled my hair back in a loose updo, finding a reason to be pleased with the dozen odd clips and hair pins that had been lurking at the bottom of my purse. The only necklace I had with me was a circle medallion on a gold chain, so that would have to do, but I'd fled with my diamond earrings in, and styling my hair up would show them off.

Bill had given me the earrings last year on Valentine's Day. He'd made a bit of a speech about it, wanting me to know that just because he wasn't putting a diamond on my finger, didn't mean that I didn't deserve them, and now I wouldn't have to wear as much costume jewellery when we went out. I thought it was incredibly sweet at the time, but thinking back, I guess it was just a really expensive backhanded compliment. Jerk.

I finished my makeup, which, since I didn't have much with me, was light but elegant. Lipstick always last, and once it was on I leaned over to the full length mirror and gave myself a little peck by way of blotting. It was my little ritual, a reminder to be sweet to myself. I'd wipe it off before the maid could see. I gave myself a final appraisal and considered it good. I headed up to Pam's room first, giving a Shave and a Haircut knock on her door.

"Really Sookie?" She asked rhetorically as she swung open the door to let me in and paced back to her bathroom after barely sparing me a glance. She's wearing ivory chiffon trimmed in gold with strappy heels. She looks amazing as usual. I follow her, hopping up to sit on the edge of her bed so I can call in to her while she primps.

"Pam do you have anything in the way of a shrug or a wrap that will work with this?" I spread my arms out so she can see the top of my dress when she turns to look.

"Check the closet," she says. "And find some heels." Perfect.

"Thank you Pam!" I sing sweetly. I found a pair of simple black pumps with an ankle strap and slipped them on. Pam wore a seven and a half, and I a seven, but I'd been walking around, and they didn't feel loose or anything. She did have a black satin shrug hanging on a hanger but when I tried it on it made me look a bit dowdy. I paced back to the bathroom door for a second opinion.

"Take that off," she ordered. "Suffer the cool like I will. Besides, your skin looks great. It would be a shame to cover it up anymore than you have to for decency's sake. And then go fetch Eric," she finished, turning back to her eye shadow. Well I'd been told. I shrugged out of the shrug and hung it back up and headed back out into the great room, which was indeed, identical in size and splendour to the one I'd seen this morning.

"Back in a bit then," I called, as I left. I gave Eric's door the same rat-tat-tat-TAT-TAT.

"Coming," I heard him call from inside. When he opened the door my jaw dropped for a moment before I caught myself and smiled. His suit is black and close fitting and impeccably tailored. He's got a crisp white shirt on with the top two buttons open and a white handkerchief hastily stuck in his pocket. His hair is down around his shoulders. He has missed some shaving cream on his cheek. He is both adorable and mouth watering. I brighten my smile and pull the pull the cloth from his pocket to dab at his cheek before folding it and tucking it back in. He is still staring at me.

"Sorry," I offer, in apology for grooming him, in case I'd violated his personal space. "You look great!" I enthused. "I really like the jacket."

He nods. "Thanks, you're beautiful," he replies quickly and smiles. "You look beautiful, that is."

"Thanks," I return. "Pams in ivory and gold. She's a goddess as usual. She sent me to fetch you."

"I just need to braid and then I'm good to go I think. Come in," he finally steps out of the doorway, letting me inside. I do my hovering in the foyer thing again. He returns in just a couple of minutes, his hair now braided back and held in place with another leather tine. He holds out his arms and does a quick turn around. Yup. Both adorable and mouth watering. I give him a sweet smile as I nod in approval. He grins and steps quickly in front of me to get the door and we head back to retrieve Pam.

There's a town car waiting for us downstairs and Pam judiciously takes the front seat, while Eric opens the rear door and guides me inside before crossing to slide in next to me, behind the driver. I buckle up out of habit, which seems to amuse him, but he follows suit.

"So who's turning up tonight?" I ask.

"Peter, Jennifer, and Jade," Eric rattles off, "Peter's son whose name escapes me."

"David," answers Pam from the front.

"David, who is an imbecile. Laura, Peter's daughter, and one of her school friends. The daughter lives down here his second ex-wife. He's multi-purposing the dinner to see her while he's in town, and remind me that he has a vested interest on a personal level to move more of their organization here."

"But haven't you just moved almost all of your operations up to Washington?" I ask.

"Yes but that was sort of in preparation for this. We've consolidated there, leaving room to merge with them here, if that makes sense. Once this is through they will be us, and we, them, so even though it's them, technically we will still be here," he smiles. He must realize how convoluted that sounded.

"We'll be integrating staff here across the board when it's done. Basically, we've uncluttered the offices here to make room for them, that's all." That makes a bit more sense.

"So why's David an imbecile?" I ask.

"Genetics," Pam offers.

"Not really," Eric disagrees. "Peter's very calculating, sometimes too much so. He's managed to manoeuvre himself out of veritable windfalls on several occasions because he's convinced that sideways is always the best approach. He, specifically, is what keeps me wary of this entire undertaking. Once the particulars are hashed out, the merger promises to be mutually beneficial. I'm sure your Gran told you that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, yes?"

I smiled, nodding.

"Right, well Peter doesn't subscribe to that philosophy. The bird is always suspect. Anyway, David just mistakes privilege for cleverness and wealth for entitlement. He's an ass."

"And we've chosen to meet these people socially?" I ask.

"They're not antisocial. I'm cutting it down to brass tacks for you. Things like this are helpful to me because it gives me greater insight on what I'm dealing with across the conference table. There'll be some posturing throughout, but you've seen that kind of thing before I'm sure. Who'll pick the wine, who'll pay the check. I'm curious about the daughter. You'll like Jade, she's like you a bit."

"Oh?"

"She's the stereotypical demure asian woman, to your southern belle, about ninety percent of the time, but when she's riled up, she's spitting fire. It just comes at you so unexpectedly."

"Did you just relate me to a part-time dragon lady?"

"A bit," he grinned. I huffed. Pam practically cackled.

"And Jennifer?" I ask.

"Jennifer Cater," said Pam. "She's Peter's me, but without my charm and taste."

"Okey dokey," I said, thoroughly briefed.

The restaurant was swanky as expected. I moved to get out as we pulled up but Eric pressed his hand to my forearm to stall me, and hopped out himself, jogging around to get my door while the driver got out to get Pam's. We were definitely going to be showing off our (hem hem) company manners tonight. He took my arm to help me out of the car and walked me to the doors with his hand at the small of my back where it stayed until the server led us through to our table where the Threadgill party was already seated. The men stood when we arrived.

Eric moved to shake hands with Peter and then David. "Peter, you know Pam Ravenscroft, she'll be joining us tomorrow, and this is our friend Sookie Stackhouse. Ladies this is Peter Threadgill of Arkansas Confederate, and his son David Threadgill.

"How do you do?" I smiled politely at each man in turn.

"Miss Stackhouse I understand you're visiting Louisiana this week?" said Peter, retaking his seat as Eric helped me to mine and David helped Pam before retaking his own.

"I'm actually just making a move back from Seattle. Eric was kind enough to find room for me while my house is being opened this week."

"Ah, here in town?" Peter asks.

"Actually I'm a bit closer to your neck of the woods, sir, just outside of Shreveport."

He nodded. "Well, before I'm remiss, this is Jennifer Cater, Jade Chou, and on the end are my daughter Laura and her friend Mitchell Rice."

I smile again at each in turn.

"Laura and Mitchell, the tall fellow is Eric Northman," says Peter with a smile.

"Pleasure," smiles Eric. And now that we're finally settled, the waiter passes out the menus and tells us about the specials, the lamb dish he describes sounds excellent and I say so. He wanders off, giving the rest of the table time to deliberate. To give myself something to do, I peruse the wine list. I'm not the oenophile Bill was, but a few of the bottles on offer are things I'm pretty sure I've tried. I look up and realize that Peter seems to be glancing around the table. I offer him the wine list, in case that's what he was looking for.

"Anything look good there?"

"Oh. Um. The 2006 Syrah is quite nice," I answer.

"Hmmm. Alright then. Any preferences on the white?" Peter asks, glancing around the table.

"I wouldn't mind a glass of pinot gris," offers Jade, and Pam voices her agreement. There's a bit more murmuring about what looks good, and we're finally ready to order. As we go around the table, all the women but me have ordered some variation on salad. I feel him nudge my foot and I turn to give him a grin. He's ordered the lamb as well. The Threadgills are having steak and Mitchell is trying the duck. Peter orders the wine for the table.

Pam and Laura have struck up a conversation about shoes and Eric and Peter seem to be talking about some software company that's been in the news.

"Do you work, Sookie?" Jennifer asks. I figure she's not being impolite, she just doesn't know me from Eve.

"Yes ma'am, I'm a schoolteacher. Math. Well, I hope to be again by the fall term, at least. The move, and all."

"Ah, I was never very good in math, I'm afraid. I did my required courses and that was enough!" she offers with chagrin.

"Oh, I love it. It's so exact! Even more so I like teaching it. I really like the middle school age. I feel like that's such a vital time to reach them."

"Math was my second major," adds Jade.

"Oh, me too! Well, obviously. Math and secondary education, you?"

"Business," she smiles.

The ice broken, I find myself chatting with everyone at the table to some extent. When the wine arrived, Peter heartily approved the Syrah before pouring for me, and then passing the bottle to Eric. When the waiter checked back, he went ahead and ordered two more bottles.

"Sookie, did I hear you say you're a math teacher?" Peter asked me. I nodded with a smile.

"We should see if we can get you into Peterson. Laura tells me there's a very recent vacancy."

"Oh?" I ask, quite interested.

Laura and Mitchell are practically sniggering. Peterson Academy is a private day school here in New Orleans. It's fairly prestigious with a lot of notable alumni. Apparently it's where Laura and Mitchell attend, as well.

"Mister Barker was arrested with a male prostitute over the weekend," the teenager giggles. "He was in on Monday, but they called him from class and made it a study hall and dismissed him right in the middle of the day."

"Oh that's terrible!" exclaims Pam. I can't tell if she's being a little sarcastic or not. It's clear the gay part has added immeasurably to their adolescent amusement with the scandal, and being a lesbian herself, she's probably a bit uncomfortable. The rest of the group seemed in agreement that it was certainly grounds for dismissal though. I silently decided that I would send them my resume. Just to see.

The dinner wore on and proved to be far more pleasant than I'd prepared myself for. Eric had been right, I did like Jade. We'd gotten into a long conversation about the language of flowers, struggling to remember what we could about all the obscure meanings. I'd always thought it was bizarre that marigolds stood for pain and grief. They were such sunny little blooms. David had been mostly silent. The one tense moment came up when he tried to raise politics as topic for conversation. When my opinion had been asked, I replied that my grandmother had always said that politics makes not only strange bedfellows, but atrocious dinner guests, which got a laugh from everyone, and Jennifer deftly switched the talk to a new restaurant she'd found.

When the check came, Peter insisted and Eric put up his hands in surrender. While we waited outside for the cars and said our goodbyes, I actually ended up exchanging contact information with Jade so she could send me a list of a few books we'd discussed. I thanked her in advance, assuring her they'd be a giant leap up from my usual fare of trashy novels. Jennifer confessed to sharing my guilty pleasure and we startled the men folk in the way that peals of feminine laughter tend to, as we all three made jokes about bodice ripper tropes.

Our car came first, and Peter handed me in with a peck on the cheek as he declared me charming, leaving Eric to assist Pam before he joined me in the back seat. "Y'all had me so worried, but that was lovely," I exclaimed as we pulled away. Wine brings out my accent.

"That was...bizarre," said Pam. "I actually enjoyed myself." She contorted herself in the front so she could face us with her chin resting on the seat. She was plainly feeling the wine as well. "Sookie, stay in town and always come to these." I caught Eric raise his eyebrows at that. "Did you see her Eric? She even stopped David's dickery in its tracks with aplomb."

"I saw," he said. He'd been quiet for a while and was apparently still being so.

"So what's your schedule like for tomorrow?" I asked them.

"I'm meeting Jennifer in the morning so we can schedule the afternoon and Friday, and then Eric, you need to be in by eleven. I've no idea how long we'll be. I'll call after we hash out the schedule," said Pam.

"I'm seeing a friend in the afternoon. She'll keep me busy. You don't need to worry about me."

"Anyone I know?" Eric asks.

Maybe, I think to myself. She knows your family, apparently. You could very well know hers. "Amelia Broadway?" I ask. I'm kind of glad she doesn't use her father's last name. He would definitely know the name Copely Carmichael. He shakes his head, not recognizing her name.

"How is the phone working?"

"It's great. I kept thinking of things I wanted to look up on the internet earlier, and being so tickled at the thought that I could if I wanted to!"

"But, you didn't actually look anything up?"

"No, I decided it was rude." He was giving me another high eyebrow. "What?" I demanded.

"Nothing, Sookie," he said, sounding amused.

It was only just after ten when we got back to the hotel. It seemed later than that though. I yawned as we rose in the elevator.

"Headed right to bed?" Eric asked me.

"No, I think I'll read or watch that giant television or something. You make a good argument against going to sleep too early. I don't want to be stuck tired in the afternoon."

Pam was slumped against the wall, holding herself up by the railing. "Poor Pam," I said patting her shoulder. "Want your shoes back?" I ask.

"Tomorrow," she murmurs. She's been up since six Seattle time. The elevator dinged open on five and I bade them goodnight and wandered down to my room. I hadn't had time to notice earlier but my laundry is back, neatly folded inside of a clear plastic bag on the table. The laundry bag itself is back hanging in the closet. I fish it out and put my stinky workout wear from this morning in along with everything but the dress, which I hang, as I strip off. I fill out the card and tuck it outside the door again. I pull on my sleep set, a tank top and pink shorts, and another new pair of socks, just because I can, darn it, and I'm about halfway through unpinning my hair when there's a knock at the door.

This time, I make sure to check the peep hole, but the only thing in my field of vision is the DVD box for Kill Bill. I laugh as I open up, because anyone bearing that is welcome company. He's wearing track pants and a t-shirt, so I hardly feel underdressed. Okay, that's like the 6th new outfit he's had on. He brought one suit with him on the plane. I beckon him inside and he walked right through and opens up the console to reveal the DVD player.

"Eric, do you live here?" I asked, standing back in front of the mirror and trying to unfuss my hair.

"What?" he asks.

"When I spoke with Amelia today, she's Copely Carmichael's daughter, by the way," I just hadn't wanted to do this in front of Pam. "It was right after I got out of the spa, so I was raving about it, and she asked where I'm staying and I told her, and she said she knew this place, and that Sten Northman owns it. I'm thinking that coincidence, and the fact that you apparently keep a wardrobe here, add up to a bit more than you previously disclosed." There. That was direct and hopefully tactful.

After a long pause where I can hear him moving around and playing with the video setup he answers, "It's my grandfather's, and yes, that's my room more or less in perpetuity. I use it when I'm here, but I don't live in New Orleans at this point, so no, I don't live here. We do have a contract through Area Five, though that probably exists in part because of the connection but mostly because it's just a nice place. The hotel is being paid for Pam's accommodation and yours through that."

"It was a bit like a lie, and I've got a real low tolerance for those this week," I state. I'm not judging too hard at this point, but I've also got a low tolerance for any more surprises this week too.

"A lie of omission, I suppose, of irrelevant information." He is unapologetic.

"So what's with that?" I prompt.

"Habit, I suppose. I know a dozen men and woman that are just the same as David, and use their family connections and wealth to get to places they shouldn't be or rub shoulders with people they don't deserve to know. I try to be the opposite of that, and downplay any connections I might have that haven't been forged through my own merit."

"Well don't do that with me, okay? If we're going to be friends, and I think we're friends now, I don't like finding out things about you from someone else that a friend would tell a friend." Three glasses of the Syrah. I'm proud I'm not slurring, coherence is entirely optional at this point.

"Alright," he agrees.

After another pause, "On the subject of things that friends discuss with friends," he began. "You're considering staying in New Orleans? You seemed to perk right up at the prospect of a job opening at that school here, and from what Pam said in the car it seemed like something you'd talked about."

"She made some good points today in the relaxation room." My hair was down now, but I stayed up at the mirror and started to brush it out. "What it boils down to is that if I'm going to restart, I should consider doing it somewhere more open ended. Bon Temps is a small town full of people with small lives. I'm not saying I don't want that, cause in spite of her opinions, simple and happy still doesn't sound like a bad plan for life in general, but I'm not sure I'm ready to resign myself. So I'm mulling it over. And yeah. I'm going to send my resume to Peterson first thing in the morning. That'd be a dream gig. I won't get it, but I'd kick myself if there were any chance and I hadn't tried."

He'd started pulling his own hair out of its braid and I tossed my brush over to land on the couch beside him so he could use it.

"Pam also suggested that you'd convinced me to stay out the week in part to give me time and neutral turf to think about stuff like this, so I guess I owe you another thank you."

"Don't give me full credit there. It's a by-product of my actual motivations at best," he grinned up at me then made an exaggerated wincing face as he hit a tangle while he brushed. Baby. When he finished, he leaned forward and pulled open the doors on the little cabinet beneath the coffee table which I'd previously assumed were merely decorative, and pulled out a soft and cosy blanket. He slapped his hand down on the couch beside him indicating I should sit. When I did he threw the blanket over the pair of us and started the movie, but went ahead and talked over the opening scenes anyway. He was kind of lucky I'd already seen this. I hate it when people try to make you talk through a movie.

"I figured out how you can get your stuff back by the way."

"Yeah?" I ask. Okay I take it back. It's fine to be interrupted with good news.

"Yeah. I'm going to send them both to Arkansas next week to meet with their software team and inventory and collate the overlapping assets. Also I'm going to find the shittiest truckstop motel Pam can muster and have them booked there. One with hourly rates if at all possible." He grinned down at me, clearly pleased with himself. "But that'll clear the coast so you can fly back and pack and ship whatever you need to out of your condo, and do whatever else that needs doing without seeing him."

"You're like an evil mastermind."

"Yes, but I am trying to mend my ways by using these powers only for good now," he says, slinging a heavy arm around me. "You really were great at dinner tonight," he said after a while. His arm was weighing on my shoulder in an awkward way, totally undoing my masseuse's efforts. I was forced to scoot closer to him to stay comfortable. I had practically no choice whatsoever.

"Thanks, I guess. They were all pretty nice."

"It was kind of weird to see you so extroverted in that situation. Good weird," he added hastily. "But before at these kinds of dinners I've only seen you kind of subdued."

"I don't want to talk about him any more tonight, Eric," I sigh, feeling little waves of sadness stirring and wanting to keep them at bay. "I'm eight hours and counting without bursting into tears. Let's go for a record."

"Alright," he said, giving me another squeeze. "I'm out of handkerchiefs right now anyway."

"There's two of yours in with the clean laundry on the table. They even pressed them. Don't forget to grab them later."

I woke up to find myself hugged to Eric's torso again with the DVD menu looping. He was snoring softly and I felt less embarrassed than I would have if I had woken up to him shaking me awake again, as he'd had to on the plane. At least I wasn't the only one who'd fallen asleep. I took a moment to enjoy the comfort. His arm had dropped across my back and he was catching a bit of inadvertent boob graze where his fingers had fallen across my side. Nice as it was right now though, I didn't want either of us to stay all night like this.

"Eric." I murmured as I patted his chest lightly and started to pull myself up from him. Then, a bit louder, "Eric?" He drew in a deep breath and wrapped his other arm tight around me for a moment, squishing me against him.

"Mmmnff," I mumbled against his chest, straining to lift my head. I succeeded when he loosened his hold on me. "Eric I'm going to bed," I say.

"'Kay," he says and lets me pull away to stand up while keeping contact as his hand slides across my shoulders and down my arm as I'm drawing away. He's still holding on to my hand by the time I'm standing up.

"Come on then," I say and tighten my fingers around his as I give him a tiny pull.

He follows me back to the bedroom letting go of me long enough to slump to the far side of the bed and make his way under the covers. I have a moment of hesitation before I do the same. I don't know if I'm too tired to care or if I really don't mind. Either way, I slink in and his hand finds mine again under the covers and that's how I fell back to sleep.

Come the morning I wake again and hear him moving around in the bathroom. I turn to face the door just as he emerges. He's standing there looking a little uncertain about how to proceed. It is a strange expression on his face.

"Good morning," I say, taking pity on him.

"G'morning," he says back. "I think I need to get back to my phone before Pam starts calling," he finally says. "She's out early today."

"Okay," I say. Maybe I gave a tiny sigh.

"Come up in a bit? We'll order in breakfast."

I moan and whimper at the thought of getting out of this bed and pull the covers up around me, snuggling back down.

"Not fair," he says.

"Too comfy," I whine. I was. What kind of mattress is this? I was going to need a new one anyway. I would pull the sheets up and check into that later. It was perfect.

He crosses nearer to the bed so I seize the covers around me and pull them up tight over my head. He pulls the pillow out from under me and proceeds to 'batter' me with it and I play along making angry noises about being roused in this unseemly fashion. Finally I flop my arms down carrying the sheet and covers with them, sit up, and hop out of bed. "Alright, alright," I say, pushing past him into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.

"See you in a bit," he calls through the door.

"Handkerchiefs!" I call back. I head for the sink, looking up a little reluctantly to check out the bed head situation. Not too bad, thankfully. I hear the door out front open and close while I'm brushing my teeth and when I finish, I slip into the shower.

Back in floral steam nirvana, it occurs to me how not-awkward that entire scene just was. Considering it had the potential to be really awkward, I find myself glad. That was just a sleepover party with my new pal Eric. Complete with pillow fight. We even had truth or dare, sort of. Well, with the truths anyway. I was genuinely enjoying his company. It felt really nice to just be liked. He wasn't coy about it, and he wasn't hung up on it either. I decided to like Eric Northman. Not necessarily in a romantic way, but just as a person. I'd spent most of our acquaintance thinking he was a really bad guy. Turns out I was wrong. Well, I'm woman enough to admit when I'm wrong. It's such a rare occurrence after all that it's worth noting when it does crop up.

I was feeling cheerful again as I dried and dressed. Heading out, I saw the clean laundry pile on the table with a little note on top of it. I realized as I stepped closer that the paper was wedged strategically between the two cups of one of my bras, and that in fact most of the pile consisted of my underwear. I started to pink up even before I read, "Sookie, if you wanted to get me in your panties, you only had to say. -E." That Eric. I grinned.

I knocked on his door a few minutes later, only to be greeted by Pam who looks striking in a navy blue power suit. "Good morning Pam!" I chimed brightly. She lifted her brow giving me a hard look. Guess you have to get up earlier than we had to pull the wool over Pam's eyes. I'd have to clear that up later before she settled too far into her assumptions.

"Good morning Sookie," she said, stepping back to let me inside.

I found the room service menu already open on the dining room table and started reading. "Do you have time for breakfast?" I asked her.

"I don't, unfortunately," she replied. "I'm due to meet Cater in half an hour," she confirms after checking her watch. She's clearly waiting for Eric's attention before she leaves, and the awkwardness I'd been so pleased to have missed earlier has finally made it's appearance. The silence in the room right now is not a comfortable one.

Eric comes out still towelling his hair and Pam quickly hurries to him demanding his blackberry which he hands right over. He gives me a strained look over her head that seems to convey that he's feeling the awkward as well. She is making adjustments to his schedule and reminding him about eleven and 401k's and something about security. I can see her shooting him the same kinds of odd looks that I'd gotten when she opened the door for me. I've got my own phone with me and send her a text. "You know what they say about assuming. Girl talk later." I hear her phone chime and look up to see her checking it. She seems a little less tense as she finishes putting Eric in order for the day. On her way out she gives me a nod and the hint of a smile. Crisis averted.

"She caught me coming off the elevator," he says once she's gone. "She thinks we're fucking now." I winced. He can be a bit crude.

"Nah," I said, hoping she'd taken that much at least from my message. "I think she knows me better than to assume that." I leave it there. He does not need to know that I'll be sitting her down later to gab about what a sweetie pie and a gentleman he is, nor the fact that I'll mean every word when I do.

"I'm thinking blueberry pancakes," I say, nudging the menu toward him to change the subject. It works as a diversion and he rattles off his preference which amounts to enough food to ... Well, ultimately it turns out to be just enough food to fill an Eric, but I'd been thinking more along the lines of "feed small army" or "sink a ship" while I listened to him call in the order.

He stretches back on his chair after breakfast and pats his full belly with a big contented smile on his face. We had chatted throughout our meal mostly about my sorority friends since he'd started by asking about my plans for the day, and then about Amelia. Speak of the devil my phone starts to ring and it's her. I excuse myself to take the call and get up to take a few steps toward the door. It's not for privacy's sake. I just have my thing about phones at the table. Gran had no tolerance for that, and I was duly conditioned.

"Hey Ames," I answer.

"Sook, hi, listen. I may have screwed up," she starts. Super.

"What's up?" I asked with trepidation.

"I ran into Tara and Arlene while I was out last night. Blah blah blah, they're coming for lunch."

"Oh. That's not such a screw up," I say kindly.

"It is, because of the full disclosure I was promised."

"You'll get the full disclosure," I assure her rolling my eyes. "Maybe only after they leave, but I'm good as my word Broadway."

"Alright," she seemed relieved. "Let me get back to my morning then," she says. "My place at noon. I was just going to fix something for us, but I'm not doing all that for four. We'll go somewhere when they get there."

"Sure thing, I'll see you in a bit, love you."

"Love you," she said, and hung up.

"It's a Kappa reunion for lunch it seems," I say as I sit back down, explaining that two other friends would be joining Amelia and I.

"So kind of like demons then. Speak of them, and they appear," he teases.

I made a, "Tscha," sound in response. He had told me he skipped out on Greek life at school, an extension of his whole connections and privilege hang-up. He had a low opinion of the system in general, as a lot of people do, when they only know the stereotype.

"It's not like that," I had started to explain, but I had to concede some of his point. "Well, it is and it isn't. Some people are like that, yes, but some are not. Just like there are some David's and some you's in your whole corporate network," I finished.

"What made you join?" he'd asked.

"I just thought it sounded like a real nice idea," I say. "The whole sisterhood, friends for life thing. It was only ever me and Gran and Jason, and now it's just me and Jason. My girls give me kind of an extended family that we always missed." He'd stared at me until I started to feel a little embarrassed about my sappy admission. "What?" I asked him.

He must have only just realized he'd been staring. He shook his head and gave me a smile. "Nothing. You're just... honest."

"Don't get much of that, do you?" I'd joked.

"No, I guess I really don't," he said, seriously.

"You must be in the wrong line of work," I grinned. He'd chuckled and just shook his head. I knew he liked his job.

I felt compelled to tidy up the breakfast things despite his telling me that we could just leave them. When I finished I figured it was time to excuse myself so he could get ready for the rest of his day.

"I'll give you a call later once I know when we'll be through tonight," he says.

"I have no idea where I'll get dragged around either, so yes, I'll have my phone with me."

I get up to leave and he gets up to dress. He walks me to the door and I head back down to my room.