I awoke hours later, Gideon sound asleep next to me, a smile sleeping on his lips, and it took everything in me to not touch or kiss his lips. I laid there, watching him sleep, frowning at the padded handcuff that was around his right wrist and attached to a bar that had been installed for our suite. I hated the fact that he needed that security so he could feel safe enough to sleep with me, but I hoped, that somewhere, some when down the road he could come to not need that. In the mean time, for us, he has decided this is the best for now.
I slowly crawled out of the bed, not wanting to disturb his sleep, and made my way to the en suite. I left the door partially open so I could hear if he called for me, or so he would know where I went should he awaken.
My mind rolled over the last day's events, and I still couldn't believe what he had done, what he had accomplished. It tickled my heart to know that Taylor had wanted to make sure that I had wanted to get married and if not, he would have made sure I got away. I grinned thinking that. Taylor is probably the only man on the planet that could have helped me get away, and hidden me from everyone. I did have one question in my mind about him, but haven't asked anyone yet. I am sure, quite sure actually, that Gideon had some reasons that Taylor had been with us, as our driver, as our Vegas head of security instead of Stevenson. I did wonder where Stevenson was, slightly surprised he wasn't here for any reason let alone he had become a good friend and confidant to me over the years.
I finished my duties in the bathroom, and headed for the kitchenette, hungry. I realized I hadn't eaten anything since the flight. A meal had been served at the reception, but neither Gideon nor I partook of it, refusing to leave the dance floor.
I found the menu for room service, and slow glanced over the menu, but had a hard time keeping my thought on it and away from the sleeping god in the bedroom. It's so hard to think, that my life could be so changed in so little time. Two months ago I was a single woman with a vast empire, competing with Gideon, and sometimes Christian. Living on the other coast, having little contact with my family, and carrying too many secrets. And now, here I am. A married woman, my husband a rich man in his own right, with his own vast empire... My mind wanted to roll over and sort through all the property we now owned together. I decided to not go over it. At three o'clock in the morning, and a empty stomach, that is the worst time to think about the financial world. Unless you are dealing with business in Japan.
"Hungry?" I jumped at Gideon's voice, my thoughts to deep in their own world to have heard him come into the room. He came and sat next to me on the sofa in the main room. He easily lifted me, placing me on his lap and then ran his fingers through my hair.
"Did I wake you," I asked as I curled into his arms, kissing his lips softly before he took the menu from me.
"No, but you should have," he said, rubbing his nose against mine. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay. Just hungry," I said, but his eyes continued to search me for a deeper answer. "Why? What's wrong?"
"I just... I want to make sure you are okay. I know that the wedding and everything was... fast. I want to make sure that, well... that you've gotten over the shock of it." I gave him the softest smile I had. It was one of the few ways he knew I was okay. He leaned forward, kissing me chastely, and then, once again, he rested his forehead against mine. "I love you so much."
"And I love you."
"You know, that was a cruel trick you did on me," he said, leaning back and grinning.
"Oh?"
"Making Taylor your Man of Honor... Was that to aggravate me? Throw a wrench in the works, or what?"
I grinned trying to not laugh. "You had planned everything, and I had no say... I just... wanted to trip you up. That, and he really is a good friend." Now that Taylor was on the table for discussion, the other question on my mind pushed it's way forward. "How come Taylor was with us? Why not Stevenson or Angus?"
"Ahhh," He grinned, rubbing his chin with his thumb. His blue eyes were alight with mischief. "Stevenson has a different mission. You'll see him soon enough. Angus had requested some time off," he shrugged. She wasn't quite sure if that was a complete truth, or only a partial one. "It had been awhile since he saw his family. We'll meet up with him later. Now, what are you hungry for?"
"Wedding cake."
Room service delivered a half dozen slices of our wedding cake, and I sat on Gideon's lap as we fed each other, some times talking about what we should do next, what we can't do, and, where we would love to take each other. (As in travel to, not sexual. Well... both actually.)
"You know," I said, running my finger along my plate, scrapping up the last of the icing. "I have traveled all over the world, but I don't think I was ever a tourist anywhere, except the islands that one time."
Gideon grinned, leaning back, closing his eyes as if to watch a memory. "Me too. Would you like to go back there?" I smiled, thinking of the place, the people... and that magical soap of his. "Right," he grinned, obviously reading my mind. "I'll put it on the list."
We talked about things that we used to say when we were younger, when the world around us wasn't quite ours for the taking.
We used to sit in a booth at a small college diner not too far from campus, waiting for the other members of "our gang" to show up in their time. I smiled, thinking back to that. I remembered that that was how we first met.
"Look, just come along. You have been stuck here, your nose buried in that damn book for four days. All I'm asking for is three hours. Just come meet them." I raised my eyes from the "damn book" and glared at Jason. He knew how much I needed to study, and the professor had a thick distaste for me as it was. "Sha, it's three fucking hours."
I put the book down, carefully marking the page. "What will you give me in return?"
He stood in front of me, crossing his arms. He gave of the air of superiority, which normally worked for him. Except when he tried to play it off on me. I, in return, leaned back in my chair and raised my left eyebrow. I saw his eyes narrow a tiny bit in response.
"Fine," he said, shaking off his pose. "I'll owe you one."
"Two," I corrected.
"What do you mean 'two'?" I saw his eyes change as he tried to remember if he did owe me from a past favor, and then I couldn't help but smile, though it was a tiny smirk, as he remembered. "Damn it. Fine. I'll owe you two."
"Deal," I said, tucking my book into my book bag. As we left the library he gave me the time and place to meet at, and I agreed to meet him there, that I wouldn't forget, and I wouldn't be late.
We were to meet at Dusty's Diner, which looked like one of those old silver diner cars that have become some kind of icon institution for fast food. Not large fast food chains, but small collections of "Mom and Pop" places. Some were diners, some were doughnut shops, all were small, and almost all carried the 1950's theme.
Dusty's was six blocks from the campus, and it's popularity seemed to change every year. The year before it was popular, but now-a-days it seemed to have lost the gleam of favoritism. I had arrived earlier then I had agreed to, but this is not something unusual for me, as even as a young child I had wanted to always be somewhere early, not matter the occasion.
Being early at Dusty's though, it had a second reason for it. I could observe those who would be arriving, and see who was there, who Jason wanted me to meet, and try to figure out why it was important.
I entered the building twelve minutes early, and, as far as I could tell, I was the first one there. One side of the building had booths along the walls, and a bar counter for single sitters. I chose a seat in a booth on the "far" side of the building from the door. "Far" being a stretch in this description as the door was in the center of the building. Fortunately, the diner boasted a large menu and I used it to hide behind, awaiting the others who were to join us.
"What can I get ya," A waitress asked. She was a thin, middle-aged woman with a 1950's styled waitress outfit and bright copper hair that sat in stiff curls on top of her head.
"Nothing yet," I said, keeping my eye on the door. "I'm waiting for some friends." She looked out the window on my right side and nodded before leaving me.
I heard the ding of a bell as someone else entered the diner. I raised my menu higher and peeked over it to see who it was. The guy that had walked in had turned away from me, so all I could see was his broad shoulders, dark black hair and a very firm ass tucked into a really nice pair of jeans.
I had chosen, by this point in my life, to not date. I had a few male friends that wished I would change my mind, but I was firm on this point. This was not ego, nor vanity talking when I say this because they have all asked me. Repeatedly. The guys were all really nice, good guys because even though I said no, we still maintained our friendships. Of this I was more then glad about.
So, when I see this guy walk into this diner and I can't seem to take my eyes off of him, then that means something.
I watched as he sat down in a booth on the other far side of the diner, in a booth completely opposite of me. I knew that he too was as eager to be here as much as I was. He reached for the menu that was crammed between the condiment bottles and the napkin dispenser on the table and as he opened it he looked up.
He caught me watching him, staring at him. I knew I should have looked away, raised my menu higher, but I couldn't. I was frozen in time as if he were Medusa, and his bright blue eyes had magicked me.
I knew most of Jason's friends, but this guy, this wizard who could stop time, this guy who tight jeans were made for... I had no clue as to who he was and Man! I wanted to know!
Suddenly the ding of the diner door broke me from the spell, and we both ducked beneath our menus, watching to see who had entered. I breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out to not be one of Jason's friends, but a older retired couple who were familiar to the waitress as she greeted them by name as they took their seats in another booth. I turned to look out the window again, searching for a sign that Jason and his entourage were on their way, but the parking lot was still empty.
"May I join you," A mild, warm voice asked and I turned to see Mr. Tight-Jeans standing next to my table.
"Um... yeah. I mean, yes, please have a seat," I stuttered, my hand waving to the seat opposite me. "Are you a friend of Jason's?"
"Friend...? No, I wouldn't quite say that," he replied, running his thumb over his chin. "Are you?"
"Yeah," I sigh rolling my eyes. "We go back a-ways," I said, putting my menu down and straightening my napkin rolled silverware.
"How far back is "a-ways"," he asked. His crystal blue eyes never left mine, and in a way it was very disconcerting. His voice though... His voice reminded me of Christian's. The way he would ask a question, knowing what the answer was that he wanted to hear and some how, no matter what, you had to give him the truthful answer.
The truth was never a issue with me. I always told the truth. Even when it wasn't the truth. If you listen closely, pay attention, it is quite easy to find loop holes in nearly every question, and that was one of my talents. For instance, say someone held up a blue crayon and asked if it was blue. Most people would respond, "Yeah, it's blue," and they could be right. To them it would be. To me, I would look at the question, in some cases repeat it, to know that there wasn't more to the question:
"Is it blue?"
"Yeah, is this crayon blue?"
Once knowing the question, I would answer it:
"No, it's not blue."
Is that a lie? To the crayon holder it could be. To me, it wouldn't be. How come? Because it may be a shade of blue, but it could be Sky Blue, or Turquoise Blue, or even Tardis Blue.
Mr. Tight-Jeans, though, hadn't asked me a question with a loop hole. How far back is "a-ways"?
"Three years," I answered, my eyes itching as I realized I hadn't been blinking. I forced myself to blink, turning my eyes eyes from him and checking my watch. Jason was now officially late and on my shit list.
"Are you ready to order," the waitress asked, now that there were two at my table. Mr. Tight-Jeans and I looked back out the window to the empty lot and back to each other. He raised a eyebrow at me and I shrugged in return.
"Yeah," he said in his smooth as silk voice. "Two burgers, medium well. No onions. Do you like pickles?" I looked at him for a moment, slightly perturbed that because he hadn't asked me what I wanted. He hadn't asked, but he knew. I nodded. "Extra pickles and fries," he said, finishing our order.
"And to drink," she asked, not raising her eyes from her ticket pad.
"Two chocolate cokes, light ice," I said, watching him. He nodded, taking my menu and cramming it back behind the condiments. The waitress left us, taking with her the air of conversation. My eyes wander back to the window, looking again for signs of Jason. The lack of anything but a empty parking lot told me that he had no intention of showing up. His intention was more likely then not, to set up Mr. Tight-Jeans and myself for a surprise blind date.
"Did you know he was setting us up," the stranger across from me asked, his voice slightly guarded. Was I that transparent that he could read my mind? I shoved that thought away from me. He is only asking the question that is in his mind, I knew.
"No, I didn't," I said, the words harsher then I had meant to say watching him flinch at the tone in my voice. "I'm sorry. Look, we kinda got started off on the wrong foot. My name is Shana."
He relaxed, his shoulders dropping down to a more comfortable position, running his hand through his raven black, just-fucked hair. He nodded, giving me a half smile in return for the one I offered him.
"Gideon. What's your major?"
"Double major, actually. Business Management & Economics with a minor in Science Technology. Yours?"
"The same, actually," he replied, and my eyebrow raised to his response. We were interrupted as the waitress brought us our drinks, setting two straws she drew from her apron on the table before leaving again. We both reached for the paper covered straws, shucking the paper from them. Out of old habit I looked down the inside of the straw before depositing it in my drink. "Why did you do that," he asked.
"Do what?" I stirred my drink, mixing the chocolate sauce in. "You'll wanna stir that or your first sip will be all syrup."
He nodded, stirring it as I had and then took a tentative sip. "Look down the straw," he said, and then smiled, sipping some more of his drink. "This is good. Weird, but good."
I grinned and shrugged my shoulder. "Oh, I once had seen a small spider crawl out of a straw a friend had, and ever since then... I dunno. I just don't wanna find one without looking."
"Yeah, that would put me off straws for life, I think," he said, his eyes wide. I could see the mini movie of the image I just told him fly through his mind, and nodded.
"Do we share any classes together," I asked, surprised that I would bet we didn't. A guy looking the way he does... That should be something I should know about. But then, I always sit up front in the classes. I don't think I know anyone who is in any of my classes, I realized. Then, again, I am not here to be social, I am here for my education. I will need it to make my plans a reality and not just a flitter of a idea. "Eyes on the prize" so they say, and in my eyes, education is the best prize.
"Two, actually," he said, a small smile licking at his lips. "You always sit up front."
The waitress reappeared then, delivering our burgers, and we dove into the food and it fueled our conversation. We talked about our classes, our professors, joked over the best imitation of some of the professors before our conversations left the education field and turned to the more personal. I spoke about my family, and he spoke a little about his. When he mentioned his father, it was quick, stating he had died when he was little and his mother remarried. I noticed his body tensed as he said that and I allowed him to drop that part of the conversation as he wished. I don't need to pry, never do. Besides, everyone knew his father had committed suicide after it came out about his ponzi scheme.
We finished our meal, and he played the gentleman card by paying for both meals, despite my insistence to pay half. Walking back to our dorms, we talked about everything from movies, books, and even television. We shared a interest in television, if you could call it that. Neither one of us liked television and rarely watch it. We both believed that television, save for the use of advertisement and product placement, was a serious waste.
We came to the entrance to my dorm, pausing there as we finished our random conversation. He holds himself tall, giving off the air of patience and fortitude, yet his voice seems freer, and every rare once in a while I manage to see a small smile light up. That smile has a energy of it's own, giving him more life, making him seem more real. Finally, our conversation comes to a end, and he turns to leave, pauses and turns back to me.
"I was wondering... Would you like to go out again some time? Maybe a dinner, or another walk just to talk?"
I smiled and nodded. "I would really like that," I said, half my brain telling me I am here for a education the other half jumping for joy. He gave me that sparkling smile again, took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. And then he turned and walked away.
That had been the beginning of our relationship. Though it had ended a few months later, we had never regretted it. We remained friends, and "enemies" despite everything else. Even though we had to deal with a gloating, conniving, overly cheerful Jason Taylor.
To all my new followers, welcome!
The upcoming chapter... will be dark. Warning you now.
