Here's a new chapter for all of you who are still reading! It's a little slow, but I promise there is a whole lot more to come.
Thanks for sticking with me and my infrequent updates. I love you guys.
It's two days before the job. "Cassandra is afraid of flying, so she's taking a train all the way from New York to Sacramento, California."
"Why Sacramento?" Ariadne asks, and Arthur answers.
"Home for the holidays. Now, this complicates things slightly, but also gives us more then enough time to get what we need from her, implant the idea and get out with our lives. This is not a hard job by any means, and I have faith that-"
"We're gonna need a lot more then faith to get this job done, Arthur." Eames says, and Arthur sends him a glare and sighs slightly. I turn to Eames and widen my eyes, silently telling him to stop. He shrugs and makes a face at me.
"I trust that everyone knows their role by now, and we have a clear idea of how we are going to accomplish what we need too. Lilah," he says, and my head snaps to attention. I wasn't paying attention, I was too focused on thinking about getting a pizza before I leave New York. "Do you need to do more research on the mother tonight?"
"Yes, probably. I haven't been able to find much."
"I have a solution to that problem. Meet me in the office when we're done here."
"Aye aye, Captain." Did I just say that? Jesus, what is wrong with me lately? He stares at me strangley for a moment, but moves on. Ariadne explains the layouts to us in greater detail then she ever has, and I realize that the theatre will be Arthur's dream, and that means it's going to be beautiful. I have entered his dreamspace more times then I can count, and the man truly has impeccable taste.
The meeting is finally over after nearly two hours, and Eames leaves the warehouse after muttering something about an 'engagement down town' and 'the girl'. Eddy and Ariadne leave together, after she discovers that he has never eaten a falafel.
Arthur and I are truly alone for the first time since I arrived.
We avoid each other for a little while before I knock on the door to the office. He's sitting at the desk, chewing on the edge of a pen. Hes wearing a brown sweater over a rolled up striped shirt. And a tie, of course. He loves ties. "You wanted to talk about the mother?"
He looks up, shaken a little, I must have surprised him. The chair he was leaning back on slams on the floor and he catches himself on the desk. "Yes, of course. Come in." He clears his throat and starts fiddling with the papers on his desk, and he sticks his hand in his pocket to stroke his loaded die.
I take a seat across from the desk, and cross my legs, waiting for him to speak. He is quiet, and then stares up at me with dark eyes, looking completely lost. "So... the mother."
"Yes, right! She was a single parent, her husband left her for a flight attendant when Cassandra was only seven. From all accounts she was a mean old woman, and was a pain in the ass until her dying day. I acquired some old home movies," he pushes a couple VHS tapes across the table.
"Arthur, this is amazing." I smile and look down at the old tapes, labeled with peeling yellow stickers that say things like 'Aunt Joans Anniversary' and other mundane things. "Thank you."
"You always liked to have a lot to go off of, if I remember correctly."
"Yes, it's what makes me so good at my job." He opens his mouth to say something, but his cellphone rings and he holds up a hand to tell me to stay where I am. He says hello to someone discreetly and then leaves me alone in the office. I stand up, deciding to look around while he's gone. Something catches my eye, a dark brown leather jacket.
He's had that silly jacket for years.
"No. I came to see you."
"Go wait in the front, I'll be out in five."
"I thought you said you weren't off for another ten minutes."
"I'm not." He's wearing that stupid leather jacket, a white shirt and jeans. He stopped wearing jeans around the age of twenty five, after that, it was strictly slacks. I remember my heart was beatig fast because Ethan had already dumped me and I was dangerously attracted to Arthur. I met him outside, and he was standing under the awning, hiding from the rain. "Do you want to come to the stuido with me?"
"What?"
"After work I go practice at a studio on the lower east side, it clears my head. We could go get some food after."
He pauses, staring me in the face and considering it. "I would like that. I've never seen you dance."
"Eh, I'm nothing to shout about. Come on, we'll miss the train."
"Wouldn't you rather take a cab?" He asks, pointing to the street, but following me.
"Just because I have money doesn't mean I don't love the subway, hurry." I run and he follows, slipping a little on the way. We're near soaking when we finally make our way down the stairs. He stares at me on the train, and it makes me nervous. He always did make me very nervous. The door is unlocked when we arrive and I push it open because it always sticks.
I remember him watching me very closely while I danced, like he knew it was for him. I was practicing my spotting, spinning in place when I felt him grab me. Pulling me to his chest with both hands, he leaned down and just before he pressed his lips to mine- the timer ran out and we both woke up.
It figures that our first romantic encounter would be in a dream. We went on for weeks like that, sharing dreams and only showing our true feelings within them. It was stupid of us, because things got out of hand quickly.
I pull the little ivory elephant out of my vest pocket and hold it in my palm. Arthur makes me feel like everything is a dream, he always has. It's going to take more then a keepsake to keep me grounded this time.
When he comes back in, I blush a little because of what I was thinking about, all the intimate memories. "I'm sorry, I had to take that."
"No worries. I was just considering how long you've had that jacket."
He looks behind him and chuckles slightly. "Yeah, it has been quite a long time."
We are both quiet, and I just kind of stare at my hands, thinking about how I should get a manicure soon. My cuticles are all ripped from picking at them. It's a nasty habit, but it happens when I get very nervous. I can feel him staring at me, and then I hear him sigh and I look up, and he's looking at me and then I have to look away because the intensity of his stare is enough to make me downright nervous.
What he says next very nearly makes me laugh. "You've dyed your hair, haven't you."
"Yes, I did. After you left I felt no need to keep it so light, plus, I wanted to be sultry. I thought that if I changed my look, changed everything, maybe I could rid myself of you. But that didn't change that I still kept your cologne on my bathroom counter, or that your shirts still hang in my closet. No matter how hard I tried I could never erase you."
"Oh Lily, I'm so-"
"Don't. Just don't say it again, you said it once, and that was all I needed. I won't ask you to grovel, it's not in your nature."
He is quiet and then he speaks, and his voice is quiet, nearly a whisper and he's not looking at me when he says it. "I would grovel for you."