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2SmrtGrls
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Max sat in the bathtub, soaking, trying to wash away the stress and strain of the day. It had been hot, with lots of runs across the city for Jam Pony and well…she wasn't feeling that great.
She hadn't had any full-blown seizures, but they were there, just below the surface, threatening to break through at any minute. She had picked up a new supply of Tryptophan that afternoon in Chinatown, but even the drug didn't seem to be taking the edge off this time.
Her beeper began to sound across the room. Sighing, Max pulled herself from the warmth of the soapy water, grabbed a towel and reached for the beeper.
It was Logan.
Shit. She hadn't talked to him for a couple of days. Her thoughts were all jumbled and being around him made it even worse. So, instead of facing it, she had just stayed as far from Logan Cale as she could…physically, emotionally and most importantly, in her mind.
But now he had beeped her. She should go.
Sighing once more, she pulled the towel tighter and headed to her bedroom to find something to wear.
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Walking into Logan's apartment, Max could smell garlic and rosemary coming from the kitchen.
"You paged me?" she called as she walked down the hall.
"I thought you might want to join me for dinner," Logan answered as he wheeled out to greet her.
Max smiled. "I don't want to put you to any trouble."
Logan shook his head, trying to look casual. "Well, it's nothing fancy. Just one of my run-of-the-mill, spur-of-the-moment culinary miracles."
Max sank down on one of the kitchen chairs. "I'm not real hungry. Feeling kind of punk."
"Ah...a glass of pre-pulse Tokay Pinot Gris'll cure what ails you," Logan responded as he wheeled back to the kitchen counter and reached for a wine glass.
Suddenly, the lights went out.
"Now you have to stay because even you shouldn't be wandering around out there during a brownout," Logan said, his voice filled with concern.
Max didn't disagree. "I've got a wicked headache as it is." And she had no interest in trying to make her way back home both in the dark and with her head pounding.
As he poured the wine, Max took in the scene before her.
The dinner table was perfect. He'd paid attention to every detail. The candles. Wine. Scent of culinary miracles.
Gorgeous blue shirt.
Gorgeous blue eyes.
Wow, his eyes. It was a setting for seduction.
Could this be for me? Max wondered. It couldn't be…they didn't have that kind of relationship. They weren't like that.
But, if she wasn't feeling so punk…
Max shook the thought from her head. What was she saying?
It wasn't what it seemed like. It was just how Logan lived, he hadn't done anything special for Max. Like he said, it was run of the mill for him.
As they sat and shared their "where were you when the Pulse hit" memories, she found her eyes returning again and again to look at him, to drink him in, every inch of him.
He looked so fine, sitting there pouring the wine. So elegant. He was so relaxed this evening, without a care in the world. It was like a glimmer of the Logan she first met, before, but different…more natural and not so arrogant now. Very nice.
If only he could understand that the chair suited him. It added something to his well-put together package. A sensuality, unmatched.
A wave of uncertainty, the shaking moved over her once again.
"You okay?" Logan asked, reaching over to touch her arm.
Max shook her head. "Like I said, I'm not feeling so hot."
"It's pretty bad this time, huh?" Logan asked, his voice filled with empathy, understanding what it was like to not feel in control of your body.
"Every once in a while, I hit a rough patch. Usually the Tryptophan helps, but...these seizures are much stronger than usual." And, although she couldn't tell him, it scared her. She didn't like not understanding what was going on with her body.
"Should I call a doctor?" The empathy was gone now and genuine concern had taken over.
The shaking got worse as she explained that calling a doctor wouldn't help. They moved into the living room where she laid down on the couch.
"What can I do?" Logan pleaded.
"Stay with me, please?" she asked, feeling more alone than she had in a long time.
Logan moved to sit next to her. "I'm right here."
"You won't leave?" Everyone had always left…or she'd left them first.
"I'm not going anywhere," Logan replied as he took her in his arms.
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When Max woke the next morning, she was still in Logan's arms. Trying not to wake him, she slipped from his embrace. The seizures seemed to have ended, but she felt very weak and unsteady.
She stepped back from the couch and looked down at him. She should wake him; he looked so uncomfortable. She picked his feet up from the floor and moved them so they were resting on the couch. As she attempted to roll him from his side to his back, he moaned slightly, then woke up.
"Hey," he grunted.
"Hey," she answered in kind. "You didn't look like you were too comfortable there."
Logan blinked his eyes a couple more times, then using his arms, shifted his body so he was sitting up on the couch. "Maybe just a little crick in my neck, but no big deal."
"Thanks," Max said, quietly.
"Not a problem," Logan answered.
"I should get home…"
"I should get dressed…"
Their words tumbled over one another and then they fell into an uncomfortable silence.
"Well," Logan finally said, reaching for his chair so he could transfer into it.
"Yeah," Max responded.
"You sure you're okay?" Logan asked as Max began walking toward the door.
"Good to go," Max replied, and then left the apartment.
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Max pulled her bike up in front of the boarded up high-rise she called home. She literally crawled off the bike, her body still weak and jerking from residual seizures. She just wanted to climb back into bed. Normal was going to have to take a pound out of her ass another day…there was no way she was making it into work feeling this punk.
As she climbed the steps, she smiled, remembering waking up in Logan's arms. And who knows, if she didn't have this defective body, things could have been very different.
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"Now you have to stay because even you shouldn't be wandering around out there during a brownout," Logan said, as he lit the candles on the table and filled the wine glasses.
"Can you serve a Logan Cale masterpiece without the power on?" Max teased.
"Oh, Logan Cale can do just about anything," he replied, as he popped a wheelie in his chair and spun so he was in front of the cupboard door. "That is what the…" Logan reached into the cupboard and pulled out a small metal box with a grate on top, "Hibachi is for…nights without power."
Max sat sipping her wine as Logan lit the charcoal in the small grill and began to lay two perfectly marinated steaks on the grate.
"So, what were you doing when the pulse hit?" Max asked as she took another sip of her wine.
Logan leaned forward, bracing himself with his left hand as he flipped the steaks with his right.
"On my uncle's yacht motoring into Friday Harbor on Orca's Island with a lady friend."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Max asked, laughing.
"I knew the end of the world was coming when the Sat-Nav crashed and, uh, we ran aground."
She looked over at him and smiled. They had definitely come from different lives.
"I think these are done, just give me a minute and I'll have dinner served."
Max watched as he wheeled back over to the counter area and began pulling flatware from the drawer. He opened a lower cupboard.
"Damn," he swore.
"What?" she asked, starting to get up. "You lose something?"
"No, I just haven't grilled since…well…" Logan finished his sentence by pointing to his now motionless legs.
"Oh," Max replied, not sure what the chair and grilling had to do with anything. "So that matters why?"
Logan pointed to an upper cupboard. "Platter's up there."
Max moved to stand, but Logan interrupted her.
"No, I'll get it."
He moved over to the corner and lined his chair up with the counter, as close as he could get. After locking the brakes on his chair, he placed on hand on the counter and the other on the edge of the seat. He pressed down and straightened his arms, raising his body until he cleared the counter, swinging his body slightly until he was sitting on it.
"Have you been holding out on me?" Max teased.
Logan looked down smiling at her, clearly pleased with himself. "Little trick Bling taught me last week. Clearly it was just in time." He pulled a platter from the cupboard and set it down next to his hip. Then he reversed the process, landed back in his chair, straightened his legs, grabbed the platter and returned to the table.
"Dinner is served."
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Finishing the delicious steaks Logan had prepared, the conversation paused. Max looked over at Logan, who was so relaxed and clearly very pleased with himself. Cooking must have also been on the list of therapy activities from the week before, and he had acquitted himself quite successfully.
"You want coffee and dessert? Or shall we go watch a movie and snuggle?" Logan asked.
Hmmm…coffee was hard to come by and hard to resist, but Logan hadn't wanted to get physical before. Maybe that had been on the schedule as well…
But they weren't like that. Although…maybe she *did* want to be like that.
Max watched as Logan carried the dishes back to the counter, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. It was so easy how he slipped under the kitchen sink with his chair and could reach whatever he needed. It was like nothing had changed…
"Care to go into the living room?" Logan asked.
Max followed as Logan led her into the other room. Outside the city was dark. She sat down on the couch while he lit two candles on the coffee table. Once the candles were lit, he wheeled over to the couch, then easily slid from his chair to the couch next to Max.
"It's really pretty," Max said as the candlelight twinkled against the glass and the walls of the living room.
"You're pretty," Logan responded. He reached over and brushed his right hand through her hair. "No, not pretty, beautiful."
"This isn't some scheme to check out more of my body, is it?" Max teased.
Logan laughed. "No, but I'd be happy to see anything you want to share."
Max dropped her eyes, suddenly shy.
Logan shifted on the couch to move even closer to her. His fingers moved down her face to trace her jaw. Then he leaned forward and began to kiss her.
Max responded, moving closer to Logan, her right arm slipping behind his body.
Logan's hand moved again, now on the back of her head, pulling her closer...
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Reaching her door, Max could hear Kendra talking to the "landlord", Walter, a cop on the take. The rent. It wasn't there.
Today everything in her life felt harder than usual. Like it must for Logan. If only things were easier. But this was reality. She couldn't hide in her fantasies forever.
But she liked the fantasy.
And what did that mean?
To be continued...