A/n- First off, I want to thank all of my reviewers for your ridiculously nice reviews. You guys rock. I can't help but love you all.

Second of all, I want to say that I royally suck for not updating in like, seven months. I have some serious procrastinating issues. But, as this is my zillionth attempt at the second chapter, you can't say I haven't tried! And besides, I have slaved over making this even semi-acceptable. It's as far away as it can get from my expectations, but then again, every thing is.

Well, that's all for now… read and review, please!

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Chapter 2

The next day at exactly 10:05 a.m., I was on the back of Rob's motorcycle, feeling happier than I've been in weeks because

a). We were going way over the speed limit, which is like heaven for me. Not that I even know what heaven is like, but I'm just assuming. The sensation I got from riding roughly 100 miles per hour was completely priceless

b). I'm going to meet Rob's relatives soon. Hello, that can mean only one thing, can it? I mean, I don't care what the hell he says about being "already acquainted when comes Christmas Eve." Rob is finally beginning to get used to the fact that I am his freakin' girlfriend and need to be introduced to his nearests and dearests, so it won't be so awkward later on when we're getting married and they have absolutely no clue as to who I am. I can't have them going, "That's Jess Mastriani? She looks like a total midget standing next Rob" now, can I? Not that I think any civilized relative of Rob's would be old-fashioned enough to say that, but nowadays you can't fully predict what can pop out of bratty kiddies' mouths

and…

c). I just found out something about Douglas that I can actually use against him.

That thought should not have crossed my mind while I was pressed against Rob, my arms gripping his washboard abs, my eyes closed as wisps of hair flew out from my ponytail and tickled my face. I should have been thinking only of R-O-B. But, well, you know what they say, you can never escape from your family.

Or something along those lines.

Anyway, you need to know something about my brother Douglas. See, he happens to be very suicidal. He used to hear voices in his head that told him to off himself because God knows why. I've always concluded that Dougie isn't crazy or retarded, like so many fools think, but just deprived. Of what, I haven't reached a full decision yet.

You have to realize that, despite everything, I love Dougie. He would never harm a soul other than, apparently, himself. Except that wasn't even him. He was just influenced by a whole buncha psychos residing within his head.

Anyway, I thought he was a lost cause when it came to ever finding a ladylove, but recently I was proven very, very wrong when Tasha Thompkins came to town along with her parents and her brother. Her brother was soon offed by a racist organization that was full of hypocrites whose actions contradicted their own beliefs, they were that crazy. I'd rather not go there right now, but that story has a happy ending, more or less. Those people are now behind bars where they can't spit any more horse shit, thank goodness.

Okay, back to Douglas and Tasha. I have to admit, I was more than a bit surprised to find them together whispering in the hallway while I stumbled out of my room at around 5:30 in the morning (don't ask; nature just enjoys calling at the most frustrating hours). Much as I was dying to know what they were up to, I kept my mouth shut and walked graciously to the bathroom, ignoring Douglas's glare that would have been the cause of me lying lifelessly on the cold, hard floor (okay, that's totally laying it out there since carpets makes the floor rather soft and warm) if looks could kill.

But I couldn't complain. It's about time Douglas got a love life, or any kind of life at all.

I was still mulling over the fact that MY life had suddenly made a turn for the better when Rob pulled into a gas station and stopped his bike. I blinked against the morning sun, totally unoriented since I had paid zero attention to where we were going.

"We're stopping for gas," Rob informed me as he stepped off the bike in that totally sexy way of his. He has a sexy way of doing everything, whereas if I even attempted to do anything in a remotely un-Jess-like way, I'd not doubt end up falling on my face with dust descending from the sky to cover my shame.

"You need to use the bathroom or need to get a snack or something?" Rob cocked his head and looked at me as I stupidly stood to the side of his motorcycle while he filled it up.

"Right," I nodded. "You want anything?"

"Nah."

So I entered the store, looked for the bathroom, went into a stall, and was just pulling my pants down to pee when I tilted up my head and came face to face with a small picture of a boy no more than 10. Suddenly I felt nauseous and worn out and almost peed before I had the chance to peal off my underwear. All the joy and excitement I had felt just moments before while cruising through the countryside were sucked out of me in one quick motion to the other end of the straw. I sank down on the toilet seat and let out a long sigh.

As much as I was resigned, I was also pissed off. I mean, I understand perfectly well that it is my friggin' duty to find missing kids once a week when Rosemary sends me their photos, but why oh WHY do people feel the need to post pictures everywhere? Even bathroom stalls? I've never heard of something so ridiculous. What, did she expect that while people are trying to pee, they'd be staring at her missing son's photo and unexpectedly get a brainstorm of where the kid might be?

Obviously, yes. That's exactly what the person thought. There was a note underneath the photo asking if anyone has seen the kid and a phone number after that. I had no choice but to copy it down on some toilet paper with a pen in my pocket. As ticked off as I might be, I still wasn't heartless enough to ignore a desperate cry for help.

That's what sucks about being a psychic. Sometimes when you think you can just enjoy yourself for once, your job gets in the way… again. An "opportunity" pops out of nowhere and forces you take even the teeniest amount of time from your life that you were actually enjoying.

I could totally see that happening if I had agreed to join Cyrus Krantz's little psychic organization, and that's definitely part of the reason I'd refused. But now, it seems even if I'm not an official psychic, I have to take my job seriously anyway.

I emerged from the store feeling like a deflated balloon that was about to burst only minutes before. Trudging over to Rob, where he stood leaning against his newly filled motorcycle, I plastered a fake smile on my face and chirped, "pretzels?"

Rob didn't buy my fake-peppy attitude at all. He took one look at me and was like, "Jess. What happened?"

Ignoring the fact that Rob had just called me by my first name and how totally cute he looked with his eyebrows drawn together, I bite my lip and tried to look I had no clue what he was talking about. I told him just as much, too.

But either I was a terrible actress, or Rob just knew me too well, because he did not buy it at all. I'd like to think it was the latter.

"Mastriani, you're obviously upset over something," Rob frowned, never taking his eyes off me. "Why do I have the feeling it's related to yet another missing kid?"

"Um," I wrecked my brain for something even semi-intelligent, but came up with nothing. And besides, it's not like Rob isn't just gonna see right through my lie. So when in doubt, tell the truth. At least where Rob is concerned, anyway. "Because it is?"

Rob, looking hotter than ever in his black muscle tee which defined every single muscle on his upper body, drew me closer toward him and asked me softly in his most seductive voice to tell him the whole story.

Maybe it was the way he said my name when he asked me. Maybe it was how out of character it was for Rob to care about the littlest things, relating to my psychic abilities, no less. Maybe it was the reminder once again that no matter how hard I try, I can never run away from being "Cassandra". But anyway… as soon as looked up into Rob's smoky gray eyes, I blinked a few times and than burst into tears…

…In front of the whole crowd of people pumping gas into their cars. They all turned to stare at me. But I just ignored them. Rob drew me closer to him, and I, being the idiot that I was, did not stay in his arms and sob all over his shirt. Instead, I broke away from our embrace and ran into the gas station bathroom.

Very idiotic thing to do, I know. Especially since the alternative was to be hugged by the man I've always loved.

The thing is, I just couldn't face him right then. It was the first time that I've broken down in public, you know. Me, Jessica Mastriani, the tomboy, the one who beats up everyone that pisses her off, do not cry when things don't go her way. It just doesn't happen. It's just not in my nature to break like that.

But then again, I guess even the toughest, most manly girl would sooner or later have to cry under some kind of circumstance. Mine just happened to be over a job I didn't want to do.

I stayed in that bathroom for some time, kicking the walls and muttering about how unfair the whole thing is. The next time I go to sleep, I'll wake up knowing where another kid is, and then I'll have to phone his mother. Of course, the story doesn't stop there. It NEVER does. Some kind of complications almost always ensue after that.

And frankly, as I'm sure you've noticed, I just don't want to deal with that right now. Right now, not as in this second. Right now, as in not now, not ever.

When I finally opened the door to the bathroom, still sniffling (and looking even crappier than before), I almost got knocked down by the big frame of Rob in the doorway. Jumping up five feet into the air and holding my hands over my heart, I gaped at him.

"You've… you've been here all this time?" were the words I at last managed to get out from my throat. I was just so surprised. I don't know what I imagined (okay, so I thought that Rob perhaps had driven away on his Indian, leaving me decaying in the Women's Bathroom at QuikTrip, where stained walls are its motto), but it sure wasn't THIS.

Waiting for me for, like, 30 minutes was just such a considerate and nice thing to do… Not that I'm saying Rob isn't the most thoughtful boyfriend on the planet, that is.

Okay, so maybe he isn't, since thoughtful boyfriends don't care about dating someone who's jailbait (not that thoughtful guys would commit any crime that would get them on probation in the first place), but that's beside the point right now.

Rob nodded, regarding me with a perplexed expression that not only looked oh so droolworthy, but was also really un-Roblike.

He pulled me toward him, cradling my head in his arms. I was shocked out of my wits that Rob was showing any affection at all toward me in public that at first I just froze up. Stopped breathing, sniffling, wiping my nose completely. It wasn't until I noticed people staring at us that I finally realized that I should relax and enjoy the not-so-often feeling of Rob hugging ME, instead of the other way around.

"Jess?" Rob murmured into my hair (Which was a mess, by the way).

"Hm?" I mumbled, tightening my arms around him.

"Let's just go, okay? Forget about whatever kid you're supposed to be finding. You won't have to worry about it unless… you fall asleep or whatever before tonight."

Then he let go of me. Trying not to be too obvious about how disappointed I was, I nodded my agreement with what he just said. Rob was right. And it's not like worrying or obsessing over it was going to do any good anyway.

So Rob led me to his motorcycle, and we got on. I grabbed onto his washboard abs and waited for the engine to start. Soon, we were on our way to his relatives' again.

On the way there, I have to say, I started to feel A LOT better. I was in heaven again, riding at a speed of at least 100 miles per hour with the man who may prove to love me just as much as I love him. For a while, I even forgot about The Problem.

Little did I know that when I arrived at our destination, The Solution would be right in front of my love-blind eyes.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

A/n- I deserve to have bombs hurled at me for writing something that stank more than the cheese at Andrew Jackson's inauguration ceremony. How the cheese would smell now if preserved, I mean. Not how it smelled at the time in those huge wheelbarrows.

Anyway, I'm sorry if you hate this chapter, I hate it too. But I'm tired of writing drafts after drafts of bullcrap. All my previous attempts at chapter 2 have been deleted and I can NOT delete one more attempt. Well, okay, so I can, but I don't feel like it. And I know you people will think I have no self-respect for posting something I myself don't even like, but the thing is… … … … … …

Okay, I can't think of a good excuse. Wow, I've even lost my imagination. Shoot me, please.

Please review (or flame). I'd HIGHLY appreciate it. :smiles: