A/N: Thanks again for reading, the favs, the follows-and the reviews. Thank you thank you!
Special thanks to Bondopoulos for your beta-skills and patience with my 2nd guessing. :)
The plane circled over the landing strip while it waited for clearance to land. Mac anxiously stared out the tiny window as they neared the ground. Dick's hand gripped her hand that clutched the arm rest between them.
"We're almost home," Dick's voice tickled in her ear.
"They say it's where the heart is," she murmured back under her breath. Her eyes were fixed on the tarmac, which was rapidly approaching. The jolt of the wheels onto the asphalt jarred her back into the seat.
The closer they got to 'home' the more Mac's stomach tied into knots. She was beginning to obsess about talking to both the Sinclairs and her family about Madison and the kidnapping. She had a half a mind not to even mention the 'abduction' to her family, but her mother's sharp eyes would definitely notice the bruising around her wrists. And there was no way Natalie would let that slide without comment.
And the Sinclairs…they were another story completely. Keith had contacted them the night before with the news that Madison had been found. Now another call needed to be made regarding her second..no, make that her third disappearance. Mac's head hurt. Maybe Keith had taken care of that as well. But Veronica and Mac would still need to talk to Madison's family directly.
Dick's hand clenched over hers. "I really hate flying."
"Flying…coach? Flying on public transportation?" Mac teased. She turned her hand upwards so that their fingers clasped together.
His face was gray. "No. Flying."
The lack of expression on his face was telling. Mac squeezed his hand in reassurance while they waited for the plane to taxi to the gate. Hoping to lessen his nerves, she lightly teased, "We're safely on the ground now, Dumbo."
"Hey!" Dick objected, "Thanks a lot!" His voice was indignant but his eyes thanked her for not pressing him with too many questions.
"I meant the cute little elephant." When he didn't look convinced, she pressed, "You know, small. Gray? Had to have a feather in order to fly? What's your talisman?"
"I guess that would have to be you," he replied, his eyebrows going up mischievously. "You and I initiating ourselves into the Mile High Club sure made the trip go faster at least."
She flashed back to an hour before when she had found herself pressed against the bathroom sink with Dick's hands under her shirt and her hands digging into the backs of his thighs. She ducked her head in shamefully. "I didn't ask you to follow me in there. I'll deny any involvement."
"You crush me, Mac. I am a celebrated interpreter of the specialized language of the ladies. Your eyes told me to follow. I am the all-knowing."
"Celebrated? More like notorious."
"The Notorious D.I.C.K. Don't act like you didn't like it, Mackster. I know you did." Both of them looked down to where he wriggled the hand she held. The skin between his index finger and thumb had a curious, reddish moon shaped bruise blossoming there. "I've got the scars to prove it."
Her face stained red. Scandalized, she whispered, "Dick, shut up! If that agent has any idea what we were doing—"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Eh, Miss Cali is harmless."
"Who?"
"The agent. You know, Ronnie's Doublemint Twin? Neptune won't know what to do with two of them, but you and I, we've got an edge." His grin jumped even higher. "We should have just gotten drunk on a plane. 'It's Mardi Gras, up in the sky.'"
"I don't know what disturbs me more. That you're quoting Country or that I know you're quoting Country."
"Mackie," Dick's lashes fluttered, "'It's quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now.'"
"Don't make me hit you."
"'Sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me'." He smiled innocently.
Her heart beat sped up. "That's not Country."
"Mmm…I wasn't quoting."
Two agents met the foursome at the gate and ushered them through the airport to short-term parking before any of them had even gotten their bearings. The headache of getting their checked guns had been relegated to some obscure agent who would deliver them to Mars Investigations later in the day. Within twenty minutes of exiting the plane they were headed down the freeway.
Their trip to the MI office was spent in the back seats of a black Escalade. Veronica and Deidre sat in the middle while Dick and Mac sat in the very back. Deidre made some phones as they pulled away from the airport, and as the SUV weaved through traffic, she ended a call and turned to speak to Veronica.
"I just got off the phone with my partner—Agent Sanders. He's going to meet us at your office to discuss the evidence you found. He'll be later, at least an hour yet." Her attention went back to her phone. "I have a few other calls to take care of. It looks like I have a voicemail from Agent Clinton." She began pressing through the phone's menus and soon was engrossed in a conversation.
On high alert, Veronica stared out her window and pretended to not listen to Deidre's side of the dialogue. Nearing the office, she instructed the agent that was driving to park in front of the building, all the while focused on what Deidre was saying into the phone. From what she was gathering, Agent Clinton wasn't turning himself in or admitting to a conflict of interests.
The driver parallel parked the huge vehicle, pulling up, backing up, pulling up, and backing up until it was just right. Veronica kept a straight face even as her neck was jerked back and forth with the struggle, but became serious when Deidre hung up the phone. Veronica noticed the sober expression Deidre wore as she closed her eyes dramatically, lips pursed. "Agent Clinton just received clearance to come to California. Seems that he doesn't trust me to get all of the information turned over in a timely manner."
"What? Can he do that?" Veronica whispered in shock. Her eyes jumped to the front seat where the two other agents were heavy in their own discussion about the right way to parallel park.
In a low undertone, Deidre answered, "He can do whatever he wants once he has clearance. This is technically still his case. He will report to your office in the morning."
Veronica mulled that over while she led the group up the stairs and into the waiting office. Keith was in the back room on the phone with the door open so he would be aware if and when clients arrived. Veronica always found it reassuring to come home to him after an especially tough assignment. The rise and fall of his voice through the office immediately eased Veronica's tension.
She set her carry-on by the couch and stepped over to Mac's desk, her computer bag still slung over her shoulder, while Mac and Dick stomped through the doorway seconds later and together sat down on the couch tiredly. Veronica flipped through the day-to-day calendar that sat on the desk. There wasn't usually anything recorded on any of the pages but she always found herself skimming the pages out of habit. Mac kept it on her desk as a tongue-in-cheek salute to Keith, a subtle way to mock his old-school ways. Today was no exception; every page for the upcoming week was blank.
The three agents stayed in the hallway to talk briefly before they joined the rest of the group. Deidre entered first with the other two a few steps behind her. The blond agent scanned the whole office, her gaze stalling for a moment at the open door that revealed Keith on the phone at his desk. She then stepped closer to where Veronica now sat at Mac's desk.
"Agent Sanders will be here in about an hour. How long will it take you to get the case files regarding Madison Sinclair and Mark Tennsion?"
"I sent Dad a text earlier telling him to gather his case files on ThinSlimNow," Veronica told her. "And Mac and I should be able to round up all of our files relatively quickly." She checked the clock on the wall, "Hmm, maybe a half an hour here?"
"I'll let Agent Clinton know that the known files will be surrendered within the hour, then. Do you have any files at your residence?"
"One copy of the roster," Veronica told her, her eyes involuntarily jumping between the two agents behind Deidre. They'd practiced this excuse. "I left my copy there."
Deidre nodded, straight-faced. "That will need to be submitted to us as soon as possible. We'll go there next." She looked at her watch. "I might have Agent Sanders meet us there instead."
Keith shuffled out from the inner office, his smile wide. "Agent Krause, so glad to see you again!" He frowned and shrugged, his eyes twinkling as his hand reached out to shake the agent's. "Well, maybe I'm not especially glad, but it relieves me to know you were able to sign on." He looked between them all, his eyes stopping on Veronica. "Look at my motley crew, all in one piece I see."
It was good to be back in Neptune, Veronica thought. Seeing her dad after everything that had happened was wonderful. A smile tugged at her lips while he looked her over worriedly. "We're definitely in one piece, Dad. A little worn out but no worse for wear."
Keith moved his gaze to Mac. His frown deepened at the sight of her raw-looking wrists. "I wouldn't have sent you three if I would have had any idea kidnapping would be involved. Are you all right, Mac?"
Veronica stopped listening to their exchange. Instead she motioned for Deidre to follow her into the back office with the excuse of getting the case files for her. She shut the door behind them and motioned for the agent to take a seat.
"Agent Clinton will be here later tonight. He's booked for a late check in at the Neptune Grand." Deidre relayed from a text on her phone. "He's to report here at eight in the morning."
"The Neptune Grand?" Veronica repeated flatly. "Really?"
"That's what he text, why?"
"First of all, do you have any idea how much the Neptune Grand charges per room? I don't know if the government will be happy to reimburse him. Veronica came around her desk and sat in her chair. She pulled open a desk drawer and took out the file regarding Madison's case. She handed it to the agent. "Second of all, the bartender at the Neptune Grand confirmed that Aidan Muldoon stays in that hotel regularly and picks up women. That's the hotel where we are certain that he gave Dick," she waved a hand absently toward the closed door, "a laced bottle of water. We have the camera footage showing that exchange."
"Was that footage…legally obtained?"
"Uh…I plead the fifth?"
Unsurprised, Deidre nodded. "Okay. Well, I'd like to at least see the footage that you have. And then I will legally obtain the footage from the hotel later."
"Sure." Veronica booted her desk-top computer up. "It will take a few minutes to access it."
"Does Aidan live there full time?"
"That I do not know. I didn't do the questioning…but I can find that out in two shakes," Veronica offered. Before Deidre could say yay or nay, Veronica was typing in her password into the PI database. "We looked him up earlier in the week, but only to confirm his occupation and his link to Patrick Muldoon—they're brothers—I didn't note much beyond that." She typed in his name and waited. When his information came up, she motioned for Deidre to come around to look with her. "He's got an open account with the Grand. I would say he probably lives there part-time at least. Look at the credit line," she pointed it out, "That's much larger than a normal guest's account. He's got to be a live-in." It was similar, if not more, to what Logan's had been back in college. Logan would pay it off monthly, but Veronica had seen the bill more than once. Considering inflation, it looked like Aidan's credit line was neck and neck with what Logan's used to be. "I think it's safe to assume he lives there."
"So that means Agent Clinton will be in the same hotel as Aidan Muldoon tonight."
Veronica nodded. "Yup."
Something was up with Veronica. But there had not been a good time for Mac to ask her about it because the FBI agents ensured that they had no privacy. With an eagle eye in every corner, Mac couldn't just ask for a moment alone with Veronica. Mac had to resort to reading her friend's body language for clues about what was going on instead. From the airport to MI, Veronica's posture had been stiff, her eyes halting every few minutes on the agents that had joined their group in California. The addition of the two agents seemed to make Veronica even more skittish. One thing was for sure: Veronica had told Agent Krause-D'Amato about Bill Clinton's connection to the Castle. The agent was acting nervous as well and the two blonds kept making eye contact. Worrying about it made Mac antsy.
Dick was being typical Dick. He was completely unaware of what was really going on under the surface. Oh, he was aware that the Castle was involved in a way they shouldn't be, but he just seemed happy to be close to home. He wasn't asking questions and he wasn't worried about how Veronica was acting. He seemed to be ignoring the whole situation. He sat at the couch with the laptop that he had inherited for the week, browsing the internet and checking his email. Mac rolled her eyes at his nonchalance.
Mac gathered all of the files that needed to go to Agent Krause-D'Amato and set them on the corner of her desk while she waited for the two blond women to finish up in the other office. Mac wished that it were later in the day so she could use closing time as an excuse to not call the Sinclair's. It was a thin excuse, but right now she felt like she was grasping at straws anyways. Closing time never really affected an important case but Mac would have used it tonight.
She stared at the phone in her hand and tried to wrap her brain around how to explain what had happened with Madison to the Sinclair's. About Madison's involvement in this whole messed up situation. Along with that, Mac tried to process how to tell her own family the same news. Dragging a hand through her hair, she placed her elbow on the edge of the desk and let her forehead rest in the palm of her hand. For such a short plane ride she felt like she had a severe case of jet-lag. One hour shouldn't make such a difference but she supposed that the events in Utah might be leading her to total exhaustion.
Dick piped up from his spot on the couch, "Can I take you home and lay you down on a bed of roses?"
"Only if after you do, you leave me alone for at least six hours," she mumbled. She blew out a deep breath and sat back up. "I'll be fine. I just need to make a few phone calls."
Dick was typing something into his computer but his eyes were fixed on her. Closing the laptop's lid, he stood and strode to her desk. He placed his knuckles on the edge of the dark wood to lean over the desk. His blue orbs pierced into her brown ones. "These Feds can't argue that you're a victim here and that you need your rest, Mac."
"I'm on the clock, though. Working a case."
His stare went blank while he tried to think of a way to dispute that. He shrugged. "Is that even a problem? Mr. Mars doesn't exactly crack the whip, does he?"
Arguing her point wasn't working. She rubbed her temple. "I'm not like you, Dick, I can't just take a break or go on vacation on a whim. I have to be able to eat."
He barked out a laugh. "Yeah, this is about money. I'm sure of it." His expression sobered. "Can I go with you to the Sinclair's house? When they see me they won't question why Madison bolted."
Mac's breath caught at how quickly he had caught on to what she was obsessing about. Her lips turned into a reluctant smile. "They'll demand a reason. You're as good a reason as any."
"Come on, Mackie, Jeff and Elizabeth aren't that bad. They don't bite."
She tapped her fingers on the desk. "That's what you say."
"No…I'm the prime example of that fact. Madison and I used to test their limits—"
"I really don't want to hear about you and Maddie, thank you very much."
He put his hands up. "That's just fine with me. My point stays the same. They had every reason to hate me and they were nothing but nice."
Knowing Dick had been good friends, almost like family, with the Sinclair's didn't surprise Mac but it didn't necessarily make her feel better either. Dick straightened and stuffed his hands in his pockets while he waited for her to respond. Breaking his gaze, she picked her water bottle up and took a long drink, fully aware of the fact that she was stalling.
Dick's gaze narrowed. She could feel the hard edge of it penetrating into her as she thought of new ways to procrastinate. Mac set the bottle back on the desk and turned in her chair to face the furthest computer screen away from him. She accessed the internet and began the search on Wallace that Veronica had requested and had only just now remembered. From the corner of her eye, she could still see Dick watching her.
Minutes passed before she heard his huff. She dared a glance in his direction. Dick evidently had given up her talking to him. He wandered back to the couch and adjusted himself back into the cushions of the couch and pulled his laptop back onto his knees. As she swiveled back in her chair, he caught her eye and frowned. "Great avoidance technique, Mackster. But you don't have to do all this by yourself, you know."
The words hit her hard. You don't have to do all this alone. Well, that might be what Dick thought, but for Mac…she'd always pretty much dealt with this on her own. And to suddenly have someone willing to hold her hand through it all was so foreign. She'd never shared this much of herself with anyone besides Veronica, and the only reason Veronica knew so much was because Veronica was Veronica. No other person, not a boyfriend, not a family member, had ever known the burden that Mac had carried. No other person had ever offered to help her carry it.
Tears threatened, so she bent closer into the screen and blinked furiously, sending a silent prayer for her emotions to get in control. Her fingers tapped swiftly at the keyboard, quickly accessing Hearst's administrator site and bypassing the main pages. The College hadn't changed much of their site in the past few years so it was almost like second nature for Mac to breach it. Mac had done it a number of times to check into Logan's and even Dick's records. In case Veronica asked. Which she hadn't. But Mac had had the information on hand nevertheless.
It was only a matter of minutes before she printed out Wallace's transcripts. With a few keystrokes, Mac was completely out of Hearst's site. Since their newly added FBI agents were both in the hallway talking to Keith and Agent D'Amato was still with Veronica, none of them had any idea what Mac had just done. She pulled out an empty folder and set the freshly printed pages within it, marking on the tab 'Fennel, W.' and placed it in Veronica's 'In' basket.
The phone on her desk lit up, alerting her to a call. Business went on, she supposed. Clearing her throat, she picked the receiver up to answer it.
"Mars Investigations. Cindy Mackenzie speaking."
"Mac?"
She recognized the voice. It was Elizabeth Sinclair. Her heart sunk. "Mrs. Sinclair, hello." Dick looked up sharply when he heard her words, his eyes focused on her. Mac had thought her response had been said quietly into the phone. Apparently not. "I was just about to call you."
"Please, Mac, call me Elizabeth," her birth mother responded warmly, her voice light and happy. "Mr. Mars called us last evening to tell us that your team found Madison, but said that she was being held for questioning by the FBI because of this group she got mixed up in. Oh, I am so grateful you found her! Do you know when we might be able to speak to her?"
Her hopeful tone made Mac's heart speed up in agitation. There really should be a class on how to break bad news to people who had no idea what was coming. She probably could a seminar online if she looked hard enough. Here the Sinclair's were thinking that Madison was in legal custody, safe from physical harm. Mac fixed her eyes longingly at the closed door, through which Keith stood chumming it up with the agents out in the hallway. Couldn't he be the one to break this news? Either Mars' would do. She glanced at the back office's closed door. No luck. Veronica and Agent Krause-D'Amato were heavy in discussion from what she could see through the side window.
Dick must have sensed Mac's discomfort, because he sat the laptop on the coffee table and joined her at the desk. He pulled a chair around to sit next to her, cramming the thing between file boxes and computer towers. Placing a hand between her neck and shoulder, he massaged her lightly in support. She felt slight tension release and her eyes shut.
"Mac?" Elizabeth's voice sounded less sure now.
Absently, Mac pulled from Dick's caress. Her eyes met his apologetically before she turned her attention to the phone call. "Mrs. Sinclair…I'm not real sure what to tell you other than…things have come up and Madison…" her voice trailed off as she tried to think of how to explain what had 'come up.'
Elizabeth's voice hardened. "Tell me what?"
"I would really like to discuss this in person with you and your husband if possible. Would we be able to meet in an hour?" She hated to stall but explaining over the phone about Madison's disappearing act was unimaginable. "I can come to you or you…"her eyes flitted to the closed door. "It really would be best if I came to you."
"You're scaring me a little, Mac. Is everything all right?" Elizabeth's voice held a tremor of anxiety. "What can be so bad that you can't tell me over the phone?"
Mac ignored her questions, telling her instead, "I will be to your house in an hour. Can you and Mr. Sinclair be there?"
Their plan was almost laid out. Veronica and Deirdre were just going over it once more when Mac poked her head into the office announcing she would be meeting with the Sinclair's in an hour.
Mac's destination caused Veronica to excuse herself from Agent Krause-D'Amato to follow her friend back to the front office. Dick sat in a chair with his feet propped on the top of Mac's desk. The weight of his feet crinkled the paperwork beneath them. It surprised Veronica that Mac had yet to take issue with Dick disrupting her orderly domain. But Mac had other things on her mind. Most likely Mac hadn't even noticed Dick's offending feet doing any damage.
Veronica waited for Mac to sit at her chair before asking, "Do you want me to come with you?"
"Dick's available."
With mention of his name, Dick dropped his feet from the desk and sat up to rest his elbows on his knees. He gave a sharp nod, his face sober. "Absolutely."
Veronica frowned, unconvinced. "Yeah, but…he's Dick."
"Hey!" Dick protested. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Sorry, Dickster, I just meant…you know, that you haven't been involved with this part of the case…and…" And maybe Dick wasn't completely apprised of the situation. "I just need to know if I should come. I can make arrangements to be there."
"Thank you for that, V. But," Mac's eyes went to the back doorway where Deidre was now leaning against the jam watching them. "I think you and Agent Krause-D'Amato need to …gather the case files, right? So you don't have time to squeeze in any hand holding for me."
Veronica felt her eye widen. Okay, so Dick must know a fair amount. She couldn't think of another person besides herself that knew about the switch. Mac must trust the guy. Hmmm. "Okay, well, I'm here if you need me. Do I at least get points for offering?"
Mac's smile conveyed her appreciation. "I'm not keeping score." She motioned towards Veronica's inbox. "The Fennel file is ready."
Mac successfully distracted her. Veronica pulled the file out of the inbox and flipped through it, quickly reading through Wallace's grades for the years he spent at Hearst. Son of a bitch. Not having to take time out to go with Mac to the Sinclair's did in fact relieve Veronica. Gladly, Veronica would have done it, but it would have taken time out of what she and Deidre had decided must be done. And now, seeing the proof of yet another person's life meddled with, Veronica was ready to get to work.
Deidre had returned to Veronica's desk. She was leaned over the desk top pouring over the Castle's roster on the computer screen.
"If we go in, we go in together," Veronica told Deidre as she shut the door, continuing their conversation from before. "There are so many factors to this, and you're the only person in the FBI I know I can trust."
"I know." Deidre straightened and pushed the office chair into the desk, her expression deadly serious. "We're going to catch these creeps at their own game. Let's get to work."
The ride to the Sinclair's house was quiet. They drove there in Keith's car because Mac's was still parked at the airport. They would need to make arrangements to pick it up, but that could be worried about later. Right now Mac was more worried about the conversation about to take place than how to get her car back.
When Keith had produced the keys from his pocket, Dick swiped them out of the older man's hands before Mac even stood up from her desk. An amused smile played at Keith's lips when Mac had glared at Dick with mock annoyance. She suspected that the PI hadn't missed much regarding their developing relationship.
Dick didn't need directions to get to the Sinclair's house. He drove directly to it, parking at the curb. After he threw the car into park, he pulled the key out of the ignition and dangled it in front of her. His eyebrows lifted when her fingers wrapped around the key chain to take them.
"You make the rules here, Mackie. You've got the keys—we leave when you say."
Throwing the keys into her bag, Mac answered, "That's not really the way it works, Dick, and they're the clients. They make the rules. They're paying us."
"Pshh," Dick disagreed, shaking his head emphatically. "This isn't a typical case, Mackster. Give me the keys back and I'll make the rules."
In answer, Mac pulled at the door handle and stepped out of the car. She slammed the door while she squared her shoulders. The house looked empty; there were no cars in the drive and the blinds were all closed. Someone had forgotten to come mow the lawn this week. While the neighbor's grass were all perfectly trimmed and the hedges each pruned to perfection, the Sinclair's yard looked unkempt and scraggily. Not waiting for Dick, Mac headed up to the front door. She heard a slam of a car door and knew he was jogging to join her before she reached the doorbell. He sidled up against her and took her hand, entwining her fingers in his.
Although she hadn't asked for his support she was glad for it. She squeezed his hand and they stepped up the last step together. Mac reached out and pushed the doorbell with her free hand.
Things were starting to pick up inside the noisy bar. The music was steadily getting louder and Veronica could feel the thrum of it jolt through her body. Friday nights had this place hopping. Every five minutes more people would spill in from the lobby, their laughter falling in with them.
Veronica sat alone at the bar of the Neptune Grand sipping on a Club Soda while waiting for Deidre to appear. The mirror set behind the bar enabled Veronica to discreetly keep watch of the entrance. She stirred the thin straw in her drink to make herself appear nonchalant and relaxed. It couldn't be any further from the truth.
In reality, Veronica's feet felt pinched in her stilettos and her breasts felt like they might pop out of the strapless bra she wore. She knew the makeup applied to her face was way too thick. The skirt of her dress felt way too short and her fingers itched to pull at the hem even though she was sitting.
The looks Veronica had received when she had left Logan's car with Valet, though, made all of the preparation and discomfort worth it. More than one man had physically stopped what he was doing to watch her pass. Normally she cringed at this kind of attention but tonight it worked in her favor. She'd even added a swing to her hips to further sell the look. If what the bartender had told Mac was trued, and Aidan was an unyielding womanizer, there would be no way that he would be able to resist her when she looked like this.
Veronica saw a movement in the mirror but kept her eyes hooded as she watched the reflection of Deidre stepping into the bar. Deidre's gaze paused just briefly enough on Veronica's own reflection to give her a slight nod. The agent's steps were calculated and overly-feminine as she sashayed to the counter of the bar and chose a seat one stool down from Veronica
The bartender checked Deidre out while she sauntered over, his eyes rising slowly up her body in obvious approval. Veronica had to admit that the woman brought it. While Veronica was dressed in a tight black one-shoulder, low-cut number, her blond hair coiffed just so, Deidre wore a short red thin-strapped, knife-pleated dress that flowed easily against her body, with a sleek black wig that was bluntly cut to her jawline. Veronica was impressed with the ease in which the agent moved in her strappy sandals. There must courses available to women in the FBI: How to Entice Suspects101 and How to Run In Sexy Shoes with Ease. Agent Krause-D'Amato would have passed both with honors.
Veronica's attention came back to the mirror while Deidre made her order. She saw that the agent had done her part: Aidan entered the bar-turned-club, alone, eyes scanning the crowd. His gaze stopped where Deidre sat and he made a beeline for the open stool between the two women.
He didn't notice Veronica until he hit into her in his haste to sit down next to Deidre. When that happened, he turned to apologize to her, his demeanor all gentlemanly. Aidan's words died on his lips when his eyes dropped to Veronica's cleavage that she purposely pushed into his face. His tongue ran along his top lip.
She gave him a sly look when he finally looked up at her. "The view is free, but no touching."
His eyes gave her a burning look. "I bet I could change that."
Gagging within, Veronica affected a boisterous laugh. Her hand skimmed his sleeve. "Oh, you're a cocky one, are you?" Veronica leaned into him, eyelashes fluttering. "I don't mind that in a man."
Now Aidan's stare was fixed on her lips, to which she had applied cherry red lipstick not long before. Playing to her advantage, she licked her lips slowly and reached for her drink, slowly pushing the straw into her mouth. His pupil's dilated. Internally, Veronica rolled her eyes. Works every time. Men. So predictable.
"What's your name, Gorgeous?" he asked, his eyes still on her mouth.
Veronica smiled slowly. "Who wants to know?"
"Me." When her smile grew larger, he relented. "Name's Archie."
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. A small giggle left her mouth before she could stop it. "Really? And which one am I, Betty or Veronica?"
The question must have brought his mind back to the reason he stepped up to the bar and he looked over to where Deidre sat nursing her drink. Veronica watched while he thought about his chances. He turned back to her, his mind made up. "Which one do you want to be?"
"Hmmm…you choose." She answered coyly, "I respond the same way."
Her response only darkened his gaze. There was a leer to his smile as he looked her up and down. "I bet you do." Aidan motioned for a bartender. Making his order, he eyed Veronica's nearly empty glass. "Can I get you a refill?"
When both the bartender and Aiden looked to her, Veronica took her cue and stood up. "I'll be right back. I'll take what you're having, that works for me." She smiled. "I just need to powder my nose." Waving her clutch, she left the bar to give Deidre her chance with the slimeball. Aware that Aidan was watching every move, Veronica took her time getting to the restroom and opening the door slowly while she looked back at where he sat. Giving him a finger wave, Veronica pushed her way through the doorway.
Thankful the bathroom was empty, Veronica ran her hands up and down her arms. She pulled at the top of her dress and double-checked the mic that rested in the vee of her breasts. She looked at herself in the mirror, primped her hair and checked her make up. Satisfied she looked at wanton as she was willing to look, Veronica opened her clutch and took inventory.
So far, so good. She'd give Deidre five more minutes just to be safe.
A/N: :D Here's hoping you liked this-gah! :)