Chapter Twenty-Six
Being inside Diane Miller's office building was making Maxie consider renting her own office... someday. Of course, she'd have to wait until her new up and coming fashion line started showing some profit (unless she could convince the computer nerd to pay for the work space for her), but, in the meantime, she could start planning the décor. It would be light and airy, perhaps even slightly whimsical. Whites. Powder Blues. Silvers. And, depending upon the day, she would dress to fit her schedule. If she had nothing but sketching to do, she'd blend into her office, but, if she were expecting clients, it would be bright, bold, yet complimentary colors so that she would stand out as the shining crown jewel of the entire room.
Now, she'd require more than just the usual office set up; a desk, a few chairs, and some fake books that opened to reveal a wall safe just wouldn't be enough for her. She'd require a fitness area – treadmill, stair climber, elliptical machine. After all, her best ideas often came to her while she was at the gym... but perhaps that was because of the eye candy. Whatever. If she required buff hunks to brainstorm, then she'd just hire some of them to decorate her office, too. Besides, even if she didn't use the equipment herself, The Jackass could certainly use a work out or two every decade or so. If they were still working together at that point, he'd have to shape up or hide in the closet when clients dropped by.
Then, there would be the other office necessities – a luxurious bathroom complete with every single amenity a diva could possibly need or want when getting ready, an un-stocked kitchen where she could keep champagne, coffee, and expensive bottled water, and a small sleeping station. Once she was rich, famous, and desired above all others in Port Charles, it would be important for her to always appear well rested, especially when going out at night. If she was going to be the elite member of the town's society, the person that all others used to determine trends, then afternoon cat naps would be a must.
However, the biggest difference between Miss Miller's office and her own inevitable suite in the future would be her own lack of a greeting geek. Spinelli might be a genius, and maybe he was just the thing she needed to make it to the big times, but, as the first thing a person saw when walking into a room, he was certainly off putting. Mismatched and messy, The Jackass definitely did not put forth a professional vibe, and everyone who was anyone knew that vibes meant everything. Vibes were the difference between becoming another Bloomingdales and already being Bergdorf Goodmans.
"Nerd, shouldn't you be off hiding in a closet somewhere, playing... I don't know... Castles and Warlords or something?"
"It's Dungeons and Dragons, and the closet doesn't have a very good wi-fi signal," Damien responded, not even looking up from the dictated page he was typing up. "So, fail."
"The fact that you just used 'fail' as a comeback means that you yourself are an epic fail."
Pinning her with a pointed glare, he asked, "in accordance, doesn't that mean that you would be an 'epic fail' yourself?"
Trapped by her own insults! Stomping her designer clad foot in a fit of impatience and frustration, Maxie demanded, "would you just get to the point already."
"Oh, Evil Blonde One, how your intelligence has deserted you, for it was you who darkened my doorway; The Jackal did not seek you out, and The Jackal, most gratefully, does not have the power to infiltrate your convoluted mind."
"In English, Spinelli!"
"I didn't start this," he protested, raising his voice. "You were the one who came here. What do you want?"
"Oh," she said in realization. Damn, the nerd was right. "Here," she announced, holding up the shoe box she carried. Before The Jackass could respond or even hold up his hands in the silent agreement to take the burden from her, she tossed it to him, barely missing his computer screen and nicking his forehead with one of the box's corners. "Crap. An inch lower and I would have gotten your eye."
Instead of becoming huffy with indignation, the geek became saddened. "You know, I've always wanted an eye patch. Granted, The Jackal could go out and procure himself one without having proper, just cause of donning the classic, piratical accessory, but, because of my vast experience in the on-line gaming world and with hacking, I loath the pretenders to the throne, those who claim greatness only to fall at the feet of my codes in mediocre shame and mortification."
"So, I take it your online profile states that you're weird, in need of a hair cut, and have putrid breath, right?"
Spinelli breathed into his hand and then inhaled the remnants of his own breath. "I do not!"
"Listen, Jackass, when's my website going to be up and running? I need to begin lining up public appearances and various means of advertisement, so a start-up date would be nice."
"Oh, well, you're lucky that I'm only attending summer session right now. I have a much lighter course load," he informed her.
"And that translates into what time-wise? Days? Weeks? If you say a month or longer, I'll find out where you live and destroy all your nerdly distractions while you're sleeping."
"The Evil Blonde One in my humble abode while I'm somnolent with slumber," Damien questioned eagerly, evidently not at all scared of her threat, the fool. "If you warn me before you take your foray into the heady world of breaking and entering, I'll prepare for your visit and don my birthday suit in your honor."
Maxie gagged. "You're so lucky I just bought a new pair of jeans yesterday, because I haven't eaten anything since in preparation of wearing them out to the clubs tonight."
"You're going dancing," the nerd inquired timidly. Yet, she could hear the interest lacing his squeaky, high-pitched, grating voice. "Perhaps The Flighty Fashionista is unaware of this fact, but The Jackal has been known to cut a rug or two in the past. In fact," he started to push out of his chair. "If you will allow me to demonstrate..."
"Park it," she ordered, pointing at him and then insinuating with her index finger that he should sit back down. "You've already insulted my stomach with thoughts of you naked. There's no reason to attack my eyes as well." Petulantly, she placed a manicured fist against a strategically popped out hip. "A date, Jackass."
"Oh, the site shall be ready in two more weeks, seventeen days at the most."
"Good."
As she moved to leave, pivoting on her stiletto heel, the president of the geek squad called out, "wait! The Jackal had some ideas for your advertising campaign."
Turning back around to face him, she ordered, "shoot."
"Well, you see, I have several amigos on campus who produce their own blog shows which stream live online. Using my connections, I'm sure they would allow us to pimp your products during their commercial breaks."
"Friends of yours, you say," she queried. Spinelli nodded his head most emphatically. In response, Maxie said, "first of all, I find it shocking that you have any friends in the first place. Secondly, taking for granted that I believe you about these so called friends... which I don't, I highly doubt anyone who knows you and who runs a blog show would ever have an audience who would wear high fashion. Hell, they'd probably think that high fashion is a pair of pants that they're supposed wear up to their armpits vs. just their man boobs."
"You know, you are a very judgmental, close minded witch," he attempted to insult her, crashing and burning.
"Thanks."
"Fine, if my contacts aren't good enough for you, perhaps you'll be able to meet other blog show hosts when you start school in the fall," the nerd suggested.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, The Jackal just assumed that... given your age... I mean..." In his nervousness, Spinelli started to mess with his already rumpled hair, pushing and smoothing it across his forehead. "Won't The Evil Blonde One be starting classes at PCU in the fall? They have several highly rated areas of study which would dovetail superbly with your future career plans. Why, I even took the liberty of stopping by the admissions department for you and procuring several brochures and application forms." As he started to rummage through his desk drawers, he muttered, "just let me find wherever it was that I put..."
"Don't bother," she said crisply, regaining his attention.
Sitting back up, Damien demanded, "and why ever not?"
"Because I'm never going back to school. I graduated from high school – barely. That was plenty for me, thanks. So, no matter what you do and no matter what my Uncle Mac says, this chick is not college bound."
"Oh, well, The Jackal... sees."
"Excellent," Maxie praised, already on her way out of the building. "See you soon, Jackass," she called over her shoulder.
He didn't respond, but she refused to allow his suddenly hangdog frown to rain on her Macy's parade. Why the news that she wouldn't be rushing that fall depressed the geek so much, she didn't know, and, frankly, she didn't care. He'd get over it. In the meantime, she had designs to complete, a kid to entertain, advertisements to line up, connections to make, and the hottest pair of jeans to wear when she went out drinking that night. Life was good.
} ~ {
The end of another shift.
She had been working at GH for more than three weeks now, but, still, it felt odd. It wasn't the fact that she saw and avoided Patrick every day after spending years of her life as his quasi-girlfriend. It wasn't the fact that she was currently fodder for every single gossip mill the hospital had to offer... which was many. And it wasn't the fact that her grandmother wasn't speaking to her. Not that she cared precisely, for her relationship with Audrey had crumbled long ago, but, given different circumstances, their distance and lack of communication would have been weird. No, what made nursing at General Hospital a strange experience was that she wasn't falling back into her old habits.
She didn't sleep in the on-call room, hoping for an extra shift. She didn't live for emergencies and twelve hour long surgeries. She didn't ostracize herself from her colleagues, and she had even gone out and purchased a pair of pink scrubs the day before. Willingly or not, being back in Port Charles was making her live again... or maybe it was being around Jason which gave her the courage to leave her former shell of a personality behind.
Oh, it wasn't an instant and amazing transformation. She was still chilly and distant, and she still worked more hours than she should, than were necessary, but she ate in the cafeteria instead of hiding out on the roof or in a nearly abandoned stairwell, and sporadically, Elizabeth even caught herself smiling. While she still avoided any and all cases that had to do with babies and pregnant mothers, she no longer made children cry. It felt like improvement.
She was done for the day, though, so, as she threw her various nursing paraphernalia into her locker and prepared to change, she also tossed her emotional baggage into the small, secure space, too. When she left work that afternoon, her plan was to also leave her thoughts behind as well. Jason would be picking her up. Though their relationship was still unsteady, they were getting to the point where their silences weren't as tense and where they could actually enjoy each other's company once more. They would go for rides, and they would play pool together at Jake's – simple, uncomplicated interactions that did not force them to confront their past.
"So, who was the hottie on the motorcycle?"
So lost in her own mind that she didn't hear anyone enter the locker room behind her, Elizabeth was caught off guard. With heart racing and her breath elevated, she whirled around to find a pretty, blonde nurse leaning expectantly towards her, a grin upon her friendly mouth and a conspiratorial twinkle illuminating her pale blue eyes. "Excuse me?"
"This morning, the guy who dropped you off," her co-worker encouraged. "I was coming in at the same time, and I saw the two of you. Who is he?" Before she could respond, the other woman blushed, slapped her own forehead, and then took a step forward, her hand thrust out. "I'm such a Rude Regina. Sorry. My name's Nadine. I should have introduced myself weeks ago, but things have been crazy, and there never seemed to be a good time to come up and talk to you, and... you're kind of distant, do you know that?"
"Yeah, it's something I'm working on." Shaking the proffered palm, she returned, "and I'm Elizabeth."
"Oh, I know that already. This hospital has been talking about you since you walked through the front doors three weeks ago for your first shift."
"And the legacy of Amy Vining continues," she mumbled under her breath. At Nadine's confused expression, she raised her voice. "So, what have the rumor mills had to say about me."
The other woman's blush deepened. "Oh, well... I don't really..." With wide, embarrassed eyes, she blurted out, "that you were raped at fifteen; dated a kid named Lucky Spencer who died in a fire; got yourself mixed up with the local bad boy mafia enforcer - I'm kind of dating a mob heir myself, so I personally know that particular can of worms; that you might have then had an affair with Sonny Corinthos; that you left town mysteriously; that you were also involved with our new cad of a neurosurgeon; and that you were once an artist. That's it... I think."
"Ew, Sonny, never!"
She had to hide her amusement when the blonde nurse's mouth popped open. "Everything else is true, though?"
"More or less."
"Wow." For several quiet moments, Nadine processed the information. When it seemed as though she wasn't going to say anything more, Elizabeth returned to the task of undressing and preparing to leave. "So, the Harley Hunk?"
"Jason Morgan," she replied without pause or hesitation, "local allegedbad boy mafia enforcer... or, at least, he used to be. Now, I'm really not sure what his job title would be. It's confusing, but, if you're dating a mob heir, then you'll understand that well enough yourself."
"Yeah...?"
Looking over her shoulder, she asked, "you did say that, didn't you, that you were seeing someone with ties to that world?"
"I am... I think," Nadine confessed, collapsing down to sit upon the bench that cut down the center of the aisle between the two rows of lockers. "I don't know. It's just... well, you see, I'm getting divorced. And I'm a mother. And Johnny doesn't want anything to do with his father's business... at least, that's what he tells me. Don't you think I'm, if not too old, then too much of a homemaker to say that I'm dating?"
Of all the things the other woman had said, Elizabeth only heard just one. "Johnny... as in Johnny Zacchara?"
"The one and only," Nadine responded. "Why? Do you know him?"
"Hello, Jason Morgan is the..." As her words trailed off, Elizabeth blanched. She had almost said that he was the father of her children – out loud, in public, and to a near stranger. "... Harley Hunk who brings me to work, remember? Of course I've heard of him. Ask your boyfriend in return. Johnny will tell you that he knows Jason as well."
Shrugging, her new acquaintance said, "maybe I will. And maybe I'll suggest that we go for a bike ride sometime, too. It looks fun."
"It's the best feeling in the world," Elizabeth confessed sincerely. "You'll love it."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that, especially if the person who is driving with you drives his bike like Jason does... or, at least, like he used to. Elizabeth Webber, right," a new arrival asked, intruding and once more offering a hand in Elizabeth's direction. "I'm Robin..."
"Scorpio," she finished for her. "Yeah, I remember." It felt awkward – after all, Robin was Jason's ex, and she was Jason's... whatever the hell she was to him, but, with Nadine glancing back and forth curiously between them, Elizabeth knew she couldn't simply ignore the other woman. There would be no graceful, dodging escape. She'd have to fumble her way through an uncomfortable conversation. "So, you didn't like riding on Jason's motorcycle?"
"Hated it," the HIV/AIDS Research Specialist answered.
"So, wait," Nadine wanted to know. "Are you saying that you dated this Jason Morgan guy, too, Robin?"
"A long time ago, but, yes, I did."
Biting her lip, the blonde moaned, "oh, how do I get myself into these situations?"
"No, it's okay," Robin assured her. "Jason and I... it's fine. There's no hard feelings, we've both moved on, and you have no reason to be embarrassed. Besides, you two were having a private conversation which I butted in on. If anyone said something she shouldn't have, it was me."
"No, it's fine," Elizabeth assured her. Wanting to take the discussion back to something safe, she questioned, "why didn't you like riding? I just went and told Nadine she should try it, but I guess it'd only be fair if she heard from both sides of the coin. For me, it's the closest thing to being truly free."
"You sound just like Jason," Robin informed her, "but maybe that's why I didn't like it. I felt like, when I was on the back of his bike, I had absolutely no control. Everything was just too fast, too dangerous, too wild. If we took a turn the wrong the way or hit gravel, that could have been all she wrote." Turning towards the other nurse, the doctor said, "I guess it'll just depend upon how comfortable you are with trying new things, with taking risks."
"Well, I guess it's like what my Aunt Rayleen always said about love – you can't fall until you jump. I won't know until I try, right, and, after marrying a prince, divorcing a prince, and somehow finding myself somewhat tricked into going out the Zacchara heir, going for a ride on a motorcycle doesn't seem like that big of gamble."
"Wait, you're the woman who Nikolas married," Elizabeth questioned as she slammed her locker shut, finally ready to leave. "My best friend, Emily, was his first wife. We were friends for years before he... before I... well, before things changed."
"And even before that I helped him regain his voice after he was shot in Luke's parking lot."
Gaping, Nadine stared at them. "And I thought I originally came from a small town! Is everybody in this town connected somehow?"
Simultaneously, Elizabeth and Robin said, "oh yeah."
"Well, then, the three of us definitely need to get together sometime for dinner... or for drinks. We have men to discuss."
"Boys," Robin corrected her.
Grinning evilly, Elizabeth moved to walk away. "I guess that means someone wants to discuss Patrick Drake." As she left, the sound of Nadine's laughter and Robin's emphatic protestations waved her goodbye.
} ~ {
"Isn't this the CEO's office," Nikolas asked as he waltzed up to the desk which Claudia was seated behind. "Where's Jax?"
"He's off playing nursemaid to his ex-wife, your aunt, I believe."
"Leaving you here in charge of making sure no foxes get into his hen house, huh? It looks like you failed, Miss Zacchara."
Ignoring his taunt, she levered one of her own. "Look at this – the prince using peasant references. Have you ever even seen a chicken coop before?"
"Thankfully, not even on TV."
As he sat down across from her, arrogantly crossing his right leg over his left, she questioned, "what can I do for you this evening, Mr. Cassadine?"
"Your secretary?"
Smiling, Claudia answered, "gone for the night."
"Well, then, what you can do for me is push aside those papers your working on, take off your panties, and get up on top of your boss' desk... after we discuss a little business first, of course."
As he waited for her response, she stood and sauntered around to lean against the edge of her work space. Allowing his lifted leg to fall and then for both of them to spread far enough apart for her to stand between them, Nikolas watched as the woman before him spread her own legs slightly, her skin tight suit skirt lifting in the process. "But I'm not wearing any panties," she confessed sultrily. And he could see that agreeable fact for himself. "As for business, are we talking about yours, mine, or ours?"
"Ours. Is there really any other kind at this point?"
"Touche," Claudia retorted with a pleased grin before sobering quickly and getting down to brass tacks. "Unfortunately, though, compared to my dear old dad, my brother is practically squeaky clean."
"Compared to, practically," he repeated. "To me, those sound like qualifiers."
"Well, if there's two things I'm good at, it's digging up dirt on my adversaries and..." Without finishing her statement, she lifted a red stiletto clad foot and trailed it up his leg only to settle it tightly against his crotch. The pressure she applied only heightened his steadily increasing arousal.
"Please don't tell me that Johnny skipped out on jury duty once or that he has a whole glove box filled with unpaid parking tickets."
"While both might be true, I tried to limit my energies to uncovering more damning information," Claudia answered. "How do the words 'illegal adoptions' sound to you?"
"If they go along with the words 'stolen children,' then I'd say it's time for your reward, Miss Zacchara."
Thirty minutes later, Nikolas walked out of Jacks Enterprises with his clothes in disarray and more than one hickey on his neck. Better than the sexual relief, though, he also left with Claudia's promise to keep digging into her little brother's past. All he needed was proof of the rumors she had unearthed, and then he would ruin Johnny Zacchara once and for all. Nobody went after Emily's son, certainly not his soon-to-be hick of an ex-wife. If she thought some local criminal was man enough to pull one over on him, then she had another thing coming. After all, he was a Cassadine, and Cassadines never lost.