Almost an hour later, Damian walked up the driveway past a modest two-story home. He approached the free-standing garage situated a little behind the main house and ascended a wooden staircase built onto the side. He fished a key out of his pocket and opened the door at the top. He stepped into an expansive finished loft built onto the top of the garage. The loft had a bathroom, main room with a fold-out sofa bed, and a kitchen area adjacent to the main room, complete with a small refrigerator and a microwave.

The only remarkable feature of the loft could be found on the walls and ceiling of the main room which doubled as a bedroom. They had been painted with a bizarre mosaic of symbols and figures- everything from crosses to patterns that resembled ancient hieroglyphs. The back wall was a panorama of a huge pyramid rising from a jungle and draped in shadows- partially illuminated by a full moon. Human figures could be made out on the various levels of the pyramid standing in ritualistic poses. The first time Damian had seen the wall painting, it had both intrigued and disturbed him. Something about the panorama and the half-seen human figures implied conflict and ritualistic violence. It was an unsettling work.

Damian switched on the lights and stepped into the kitchen. He examined his hands which were still throbbing painfully, noting that two fingers on his right hand were a little swollen. He rummaged through the kitchen and refrigerator and made a small ice pack. For a couple of minutes he pressed the pack to his temple with his injured hand, enjoying the cold numbing sensation.

Damian picked up an apple from the kitchen counter with his free hand and brought it to his lips and then froze. It had suddenly struck him that something was wrong. He turned and looked across the kitchen and into the adjacent main room where the sofa-bed was unfolded. The bed was not as he had left it that morning. The sheet had been rearranged, and he noted the outline of what almost had to be a human figure under it. From where he stood, it looked like a corpse had been laid at the foot of the pyramid.

Damian's senses shifted to high alert. He placed the ice pack and apple back on the counter. Carefully he slipped his tennis shoes off, then quietly slid open a kitchen drawer and retrieved a long butcher knife. Damian slowly made his way across the room, his shoeless feet gliding silently. He approached the bed and could clearly see now a dark shape shrouded under the fabric. Steeling himself, Damian raised the knife in one hand and with the other reached down and quickly pulled the sheet away.

The body of a young woman lay on the bed- she was fully clothed and lay on her back with her arms folded across her chest. Her eyes were closed and she didn't seem to be breathing. Her skin was pale, the flowing locks of hair that pooled around her head were black, as were her clothes and the make-up that adorned her eyes and lips.

A shock of recognition hit Damian then. This was the elusive girl in black. The same girl he had caught glimpses of at the Shop 'n' Save and the park. Damian's thoughts raced- how had she gotten here? What happened to her? He looked at her still form more closely but could see no signs of life. He felt the sharp bite and spike of unexpected grief. He slowly reached out with his empty hand toward her cheek. His fingertips were an inch from her skin when the girl's eyes snapped open, her gaze immediately locking on to his. Damian jumped back and dropped the knife to the floor in shock. The girl let out a loud breath, and then sucked in air. She sat up and regarded Damian with large brown eyes that were full of amusement. Damian gaped at her.

"You should see the look on your face!" The girl exclaimed with a wide smile. She began to laugh. "I was wondering if you were ever going to come over here. It felt like I held my breath forever! Did I scare the crap out of you? I bet you thought I was dead. Did I really look dead?"

Damian willed his heart to slow down. The shock was wearing off and irritation and anger were replacing it. "Yes, I thought you were dead. How did you get in here?"

"That's so cool! I let myself in," the girl replied vaguely. She hurried on excitedly. "Were you thinking about stabbing me with that knife you dropped- you know if I had been a dangerous intruder or something?"

"No, I wasn't, but I'm considering it now," Damian replied acidly. His green eyes flashed in annoyance.

The girl in black had seemed like a grand mystery to him before- strange, aloof and untouchable, yet somehow compellingly familiar. He had thought about finding her, meeting her finally. He had never imagined it going quite like this.

The girl smirked at him. "Don't be such a prissy little bitch! It was just a joke, and a pretty good one if I say so myself."

Damian's eyes narrowed, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Who are you and what do you want? This is supposed to be my place!"

The girl seemed unperturbed by Damian's less than enthusiastic reception. "Well turn-a bout's fair play. The stairs in the park- you know where you choked the holy hell out of that guy Logan today? Yeah that's right, I watched the whole thing from behind some trees. Anyway, those stairs are my place. That's where I go to think things over, to relax and meditate, and sometimes work on sketches. For some reason that part of the park feels peaceful to me... like I'm closer to some kind of fundamental spiritual essence there. You know what I'm talking about?"

Damian didn't. He thought it might be safest to keep his mouth shut for the moment. The girl in black took his silence as some form of agreement. She nodded her head. "Besides, this loft used to be my room, so this was my place too before it was yours. Thus the spare key! As for who I am- I'm Georgianna Jones. I've tried to go by Anna, because it's beautiful and elegant, and I bet I look like an Anna to you, don't I? The thing is, my family has always called me Georgie, and that stuck and that's pretty much what my friends call me, so I guess that's what you should call me too."

Damian stared at her.

"Um, it's rude not to introduce yourself," Georgie prodded him.

Damian cleared his throat. "I'm D-"

"Damian Spinelli," she cut him off. "Yes I know." She stood and stretched luxuriously and then began to slowly pace toward him. Damian became aware of the curves of her body, the lustrous shine of her dark hair, the moist pout of her lips. The instant fascination that he had felt upon seeing her for the first time across the Shop 'n Save back lot resurfaced even as his aggravation receded. "I saw your name on the information you gave my mother when you rented this room from her." She came closer. Without realizing it, Damian backed against the wall. A symbol that resembled the sun was on the wall over his shoulder. Georgie followed, and her face hovered inches before his own. Her brown eyes stared unabashedly, openly into his.

"I guess I've kind of been keeping an eye out for you, ever since you moved in here. Do you know why?" She was so close that her warm breath caressed his neck and chin. Damian slowly shook his head, never taking his eyes from hers. "Because from the first moment I saw you it was like someone reached inside me and plucked a guitar string that I didn't even know was there. It's been vibrating... resonating ever since." Georgie raised her left hand and without thinking, Damian raised and placed his injured right hand flat against it.

"You feel it, don't you?" she asked in a throaty whisper.

"I feel... something."

"You asked me earlier what I want. I want you to be a good host and make some of that green tea you have in your pantry for us." Georgie reached up and with her right index finger traced a line from the bruise on Damian's temple, down his cheek and then lightly across his lips. "We can have some tea, talk, and... if you want to, we could make out. Not necessarily in that order. Sound like a plan?"

Damian's heart hammered in his chest, and he couldn't bring himself to look away from Georgie's beautiful eyes.

Not necessarily in that order. It sounded like a plan.

.

.

Logan climbed out of his 68 Mustang and stepped into the darkened street. He had failed to find Maxie, and after the day he had experienced the failures were beginning to sting. He had cruised by the gated drive in front of her father's house, but had seen no sign of her. The windows of her room were dark.

He checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time and experienced the same dull stab of disappointment when he confirmed that Maxie had yet to return his messages.

He crossed the street and began to approach his apartment building, trying to dismiss the nagging worries that hounded him.

"Are you all right?"

The small voice triggered warring feelings of relief and anger in Logan's tightening chest. He turned to see Maxie step tentatively into a street lamp's circle of light. The haunted look in her wide blue eyes tipped the scales in Logan's heart.

"I'm fine. Just worried about you." Logan wanted to assail her with questions, but the breath died in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Maxie said as a small sob escaped her lips. Her eyes welled and glistened with unshed tears. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. No one... you weren't supposed to get hurt!"

Logan hurried to her and took her slight, quivering frame in his arms.

"Maxie, I'm fine," he murmured and kissed her hair. Maxie raised her arms and returned his embrace, clinging to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I ran away. I was just so humiliated. I couldn't have you look at me. Not after what you went through because of me. Why do I do these things? I should have listened to you and LuLu!"

"Yeah, maybe you should have. So listen to me now, okay? This is just drama! No one was seriously hurt. It wasn't that big a deal, and now it's over. You wanted to teach him a lesson- well maybe he's not the only one who needed to learn one. You can't keep pushing all of the time. Sometimes you have to relax and let the petty stuff go."

"I know."

"Do you? It's over. It is over, isn't it Maxie?"

She finally nodded against his chest.

"You can't keep testing people all of the time. When are you going to realize that you can lean on me? I've got you girl. I'm not going anywhere."

"Why do you stick with me?"

"You always give me a reason to come back. I..." Logan's voice trailed off. He found that he couldn't say what he wanted to. To vocalize the words would bring a moment that he dreaded closer to reality. The moment that Maxie would have no real heartfelt words with which to respond.

Maxie quivered against him as small sobs racked her body. "I miss my sister!"

"Why don't you go and talk to her tomorrow?"

"She doesn't want anything to do with me! She hates me, and I deserve it. I've been so terrible to her. Even from before our parents divorce."

Logan held her closer and rubbed her back comfortingly. "You know, she shuts you out the same way you shut your mom out. Maybe if you gave your mom another chance, it would help mend fences with all three of you?"

Maxie stiffened against him, and Logan knew that he was pushing too far. "Listen, let me take you home. You get some sleep and everything is going to look better tomorrow."

Maxie sniffed, stepped back and rubbed her eyes. "How can you say that? You're going to have to go back to work tomorrow and everyone will be talking about what happened. And it's all my fault. I'm sure that jerk Damian can't wait to boast about winning the fight."

"I don't think so," Logan disagreed. "That's not what he's about. Besides Maxie, I don't give a damn about losing a stupid fight. I'm fighting for you... for us. That's the only fight I care about right now."

A tear streaked down one porcelain cheek. "Logan I... I'm sorry. I messed up. Like I always do."

"You want to make it up to me? Let me make you dinner tomorrow night. No arguing with the chef about the menu either!" Logan smiled.

Maxie broke into a grin in return. "Please tell me it's not going to be more meat on the barbeque?"

"Of course sweetheart! Maybe burgers Texas style! The Giambetti's just got in some prime Angus. It'll be great, trust me!"

Maxie grimaced but then broke into sniffling giggles. She dried her tears on her sleeve and then reached out to touch Logan's forearm. The gaze she turned on him was full of appreciation. "I do," she said in a quiet voice. "Trust you."

"But you don't love me," Logan thought. He strove to keep the thought from showing on his face, and he smiled and gave Maxie a strong arm to hold onto even as despair threatened to sink his heart.

"Let's get you home."