Chapter Twenty-Eight
Marianne's blood ran cold through her veins as her brows peaked in front of Owen, whose face was inquisitive and confused. His eyes flashed the severity of his statement to her and she felt her stomach drop. Frozen in place, she averted her eyes from Owen only to focus in on Nick, who she glowered at as if she could zap him off the planet right then and there. He had to run his big, fat mouth at a time like this!
"Owen, I –"
Instantly, Alan threw a hand up between them, stepping in front of Marianne, who out of surprise, stepped back. Alan faced Owen now, a finger to his chest, his eyes flashing a statement of warning to the raptor trainer. Marianne's nerves clenched and her head began to swim – Alan glared at Owen, and interjected, "What makes you think she's gotta tell you anything, hotshot?"
Owen's brow dropped into a furrow and he glanced around Alan. Pointing at him, he raised his brows as if to signal Marianne to do something, out of disbelief. "You want to tell him what's going on? Because if I do he very well may not appreciate the way I'm gunna do it," his voice had dropped into a competitive growl that scared the daylights out of Marianne, and she didn't waste time. Dashing around Alan, she latched onto Owen's arm and shot Alan a look.
"Alan!" She blurted, her voice rising in pitch – she knew her face was on fire, but she didn't care, "What are you doing?"
Alan gave her a look that suggested she may have just sprouted wings, and one that was confused beyond belief. Her heart was hammering and she looked up at Owen briefly, only to find he'd curbed his rage by taking deep breathes and flaring his nostrils, his brows seemingly permanently cemented in a scow. She decided she was going to officially kill Nick Van Owen. "You don't owe this guy any type of explanation, Marianne –"
She stepped to Alan, pushed his hand down and shook her head, then looked up into his eyes, her own pleading with him to calm down. It was taking everything within her to remain calm and not drop to her knees and scream – there was far too many things transpiring for her to handle. Marianne was pretty sure she was going to have a nervous breakdown, but before she could say anything, Nick interjected, "Yeah, Annie –" She saw him step from the corner of her eye and then whirled around – her patience and resolve snapping like an overstretched and stressed rubber band.
"Alright!" She exclaimed loudly enough to engage the attention the group of guests around them, who paused to stare at the outburst. Marianne didn't even notice.
Alan, Nick, Ian, and Owen paused to look at her, their faces dropping from stares of confusion and anger to surprise and puzzlement. Owen looked entirely flummoxed and Alan so displaced she would've thought she'd dropped out of the sky. It didn't curb her outburst thought. "Marianne, honey, calm down-"Alan attempted to settle her but she didn't bite.
"Don't 'honey' me, Alan!" She interjected, "Just – shut up for one frickin' minute," she pointed at him and whirled around, tromping towards Van Owen as if she were the Tyrannosaurus across the way. Jabbing a finger into his chest, she sneered at him. "I suggest you keep your mouth shut, considering your on my turf and my nerves," she pulled a thumb back to her own chest, "It's the least you could do in light of everything else you've done to me."
He blinked, and his head dropped to look down at his tattered boots – the same one's he'd worn since they were kids. She didn't care, and turned on her heel back to Alan, stalking towards him. Owen was staring at her, brows quirked, an oddly satisfied and surprised look on his face. She pointed at Alan, "Now you two." She looked over at Ian.
"Marianne." Alan warned.
She threw her hands up to silence him, "Ah, ah," she snapped, "Shut up and listen to me, for once in your life, Alan." His mouth dropped open and Ian rubbed the back of his neck nervously, then ran his fingers along his mouth as if to message the muscles and skin there, "Now. I didn't ask you two – you three – " she whipped a look to Nick, "- to come here. You came and now here you are – and there's a heckuva lot more going on here that any of you three know about." She looked to Owen, then gestured between us, "The first of which is Owen and I. We're 'together'," she made quotes.
Alan's face twisted into a mixture of rage, confusion, and surprise – his brows ultimately shooting up as if they were rockets. "What? Since when?" He demanded.
She put a hand up in his face, "That's for us to know and you to find out," she snapped at him, her brow wrinkled and her lips pulled into a tight line. Alan opened his mouth to interject, but Ian beat her to it.
"Congratulations," he deadpanned. Owen and Marianne gave him a look, and Owen winked at her and gave her a small upturn of the corner of his mouth. She shook it from her mind and stepped back.
"Secondly," she cleared her throat, "is what's going on with Owen's – project," she coded the word as she realized they'd attracted a crowd, then she flew to Alan and grabbed his wrist, gesturing for them to hurry down the steps and into the crowds of people. As she led them on, she stated quietly, her teeth gritted together. "We've got pending documentation that Alan's theory could be right." She looked around cautiously until they breached the crowds and now were on the other side of the roaring fountain, the crowds beginning to disperse. Waving them to follow her, she led them to her Camaro and then stopped short. Scratching her head, she tossed the keys to Owen, and he received them smoothly, "You should get back and be with Delta, make sure she's doing okay. I'll see you tonight."
He wrinkled his brow, "Aren't you coming to the paddock?"
She nodded, "Yeah, in a minute. I'm gunna sign out a Jeep and we'll be there." He nodded and jogged off to where the blue sports car was parked behind Margaritaville. Once he disappeared into the crowds, Ian jerked a thumb in the direction he'd left.
"See you landed yourself an islander," He winked, "Nice work, honey."
She gave him a small smile, and Alan grumbled, "Looks more like Rambo than an islander." She grinned cheekily at him, and led them into Margaritaville, watching out the eastern window as Owen tore out of the lot and towards the maintenance road, careful of the crowds swarming about. Then, there was an announcement for the Mosasaurus showing, which Marianne blocked out. It caught Alan's attention, because she saw him light up.
"I'm gunna go sign out a Jeep, and then we'll get moving." She backed up a few steps, "You guys have to keep it cool. Owen and I have a date tonight with his niece – her name is Sophie – and we've gotta tell her what's going on between us. So I'll make sure you get some dinner passes and whatever before then." She approached the bar now, slapped the counter, and the bartender popped tall from behind the bar. She smiled at her, "Hey, Jackie." She'd gotten to know the staff at Margaretville pretty well, since she ate most of her meals here in the evenings. Jackie, a short brunette smiled at her.
"Hey, Marianne," she looked between the three men behind her and gave her a nervous look, "What's up?"
"Can I talk to Dani? She around?" She mentioned the store's manager by name – she'd gotten to know Dani one Friday night as she'd shot darts in the back room after hours, a bit drunk and gloomy at the time. Dani had befriended her and had driven her home. Since then they'd been acquaintances, and Marianne had taken to her quickly.
Jackie nodded, "Yep. She's in back. Lemme get her." The thin Asian girl disappeared into the back, only to re-emerge a few seconds later and wink at Marianne, "She's coming." She tossed a dishtowel over her shoulder and set to polishing her liquor bottles.
Soon, the kitchen doors whipped open and out came Dani – a tall blonde, athletically built, who was keen on wearing pink and heels. She was like island Barbie, perfectly put together and personalized – but she wasn't all that she appeared. Marianne looked over her shoulder as Ian, Alan, and Malcolm stared at the leggy blonde as if she were the goddess Diana. Dani spotted her and smiled. "Hiya, Marty honey! What's up?"
Her voice, raspy and twinged with southern accent, blasted the air and hushed the conversation in the bar. She, unfazed, hurried towards Marianne, complete with heeled flip-flops and a pink sundress. Her hair was hanging down her back in wavy, honey-colored strands. "Hi, Dani." She hugged the blonde quickly, "Howya been?"
"Just fine," She drawled, the men catching her eye. Always on the lookout for Mr. Right, Dani was the horniest and most desperate woman Marianne had ever known. Her eyes levelled on Nick and she smiled cheekily at them, "Who're your friends, Marty?"
"Friends from the ML," she interjected, "but I don't have time to explain, Dani. Would you mind setting them up with a couple of drinks and some snacks while I sign out a Jeep?" She gave Dani a pleading look and Dani waved the idea off.
"Sure, sure," she winked, "Anything for Marty's buddies." She looked towards the bar, "Anything you want, fellahs." Picking up on her quick dismissal, Marianne stepped to close the gap between them and stuck her hands into her pockets. "What's up? Something going on?"
"Nothing I can talk about right now," Marianne whispered, "But I'm gunna need you to entertain them tonight too. I've got – an engagement." Dani nodded and gave her a smile, winking. "What's that for?" She demanded.
"You can tell me later," she turned from Marianne, headed towards the bar, and pointed a finger at Marianne. "I want details!" She reached under the bar, grabbed a bottle of Smirnoff. She poured three glasses and Marianne hustled out the door, towards the direction of the maintenance garage, jogging across the courtyard of main street and dodging guests.
. . .
"I told you not to get Grant involved, Claire!"
Claire, utterly to the point of going ballistic, watched Henry pace back and fort in his office. She wasn't exactly sure what had just happened, but she was certain it had made her look bad. After Henry had dismissed Lillian from his office and made sure the door was closed, she'd known she was in for it.
"I know that, Henry, but I had no –"
Brrring! Brrring!
Claire jumped at the familiar ringtone and scrambled to dig the phone out of her pocket. In shaking hands she managed to answer it, forgoing the ID and just pressing the phone to her ear. Henry stopped his rage and paused to breath steadily, eyes watching her and making her want to crawl under a rock – her own heart hammering like a brass drum. She put up a finger to halt Henry, who started towards her, and she turned away from him. "This is Claire," she tried her best sound composed.
"Claire! Simon. I was wondering if you could explain something to me," Masrani's tone, chipper and casual, hinted that he had no idea what was going on – as usual. Her stomach, relieved, fell into her feet and her heart began to slow decently. Covering the mouthpiece, she mouthed 'Masrani,' to Wu.
He scrambled for her, shaking his hand wildly and gesturing to the phone, mouthing, 'Don't tell him!'. Claire nodded her understanding and came back to Masrani, "Yes – Mr. Masrani. This, uh – this isn't a good time. Could I call you bac-"
"Claire," he interrupted, "When did you plan on telling me Alan Grant and Ian Malcolm were coming to my island? Or did you forget?" His tone was genuine and hinting that he seriously had thought she had planned Grant and Malcolm's intrusion. Her eyes widened and felt as if they would pop out of her head.
"How did you hear -?"
"It is all over social media, Claire! Twitter, Facebook, Instagram – everything! Hundreds of pictures of Grant and Malcolm, with this curly haired woman and a rugged looking cowboy type. Countless statues' and updates!" He sounded excited, and then there was an obtrusive noise that came over the line, making Claire hold the phone away. She thought it sounded like turbines on a plane winding up.
Wu was waiting, anticipating any type of signal from her. She darted a look to him and swallowed.
"Sir, I can explain –"
"Explain? Claire, this is magnificent!" he exclaimed, "Do you have any idea what this will do for public relations? Attendence is going to skyrocket – I can just see headlines now! 'Jurassic Park Survivors Brave Jurassic World' – it's going to do wonders!" He was giddy and it was grinding severely on her nerves, "I have a chartered flight to the island tonight – I personally want you to arrange a dinner between us and Grant, Malcolm and the other two. Obviously they are acquainted – and I want to know everything. They are our esteemed guests, Claire – all of them, and I want them to regret waiting to visit Jurassic World. Is that understandable?"
Claire, dumbfounded, answered robotically. "Yes, Mr. Masrani."
"Excellent! I shall see you tonight, Claire. Make sure the reservations are good." With that, he was gone. She, ending the call, looked down to the phone and squeezed it in her hands, then dared a look at Wu.
"He's coming - to have dinner with Grant and Malcolm," her voice was hollow and disappointed. Wu facepalmed himself and grimaced. She sighed and closed her eyes, "and he wants Owen and Marianne to join them."
Wu spun around furiously as if hell had come up out of the ground, "What?"
"He wants to have dinner," her voice was dangerously calm, "with all of them.'
Wu rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air. "Fantastic." He mumbled, then swore an obscenity. She swallowed thickly and tucked a fallen piece of hair from behind her ear. He rounded the desk and grabbed the phone. He began punching numbers and Claire solemnly approached the door.
Reaching for it, she opened it carefully and slipped out of Henry's office.