AN: Okay, this is the other side of chapter 20 of LS… Zach's thoughts while he spent the night in the office and then his take on the horrible incident with the Ryan/Kendall pictures… dumb Kendall but I couldn't just ignore her past with Ryan. But, don't be afraid! This is a Zen piece, remember! But she has to deal with her intense feelings for her ex. The song below is "Shape of my Heart" by Sting. It isn't even the words to this thing that I felt fit so much as the amazing sound of this song; if you can, you should listen to it. It's absolutely beautiful. Don't forget, read and Review!
Devastation
Zach was used to dealing with beautiful women. Living in Las Vegas, he'd dealt with them on a daily basis and, after a while he'd learned not to be so dazzled by their beautiful looks and perfect figures. They'd become nothing more than that to him, beautiful looks and perfect figures!
Erica always reminded him of Vegas; from the way she carried herself to how easy she could shine that smile, she made him think back on long nights visiting the showgirls and checking that they had everything they needed, especially the single mothers… there was a reason so many tried to get work with him; he had such a soft spot for them.
Leaning against his desk, looking at the seat that she had just recently vacated, he wondered why she was affecting him so much. He was a man of control and had learned how useful it was at a young age. For a young man living in that house, completely overtaken by the chaos, it was a blessed relief when he first learned how to just stop the things inside himself.
Now, though, he found himself rapidly scrambling for a hold on the ground crumbling at his feet. He knew who was doing this to him, and, in his closed office, he could just barely pick up tastes of her new scent, something he'd picked up the second she'd sauntered over to him in the offices.
Kendall. Kendall Hart. Kendall-fucking-Hart with that smile that could affect some part of him that he did not know still existed, some part that he hadn't felt since he'd last seen his mother, that day so long ago. But was it supposed to ache? Was it supposed to make it hard for him to breathe when she got too close?
He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesn't play for the money he wins
He doesn't play for the respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of probably outcome
The numbers lead a dance
Of course, she was a beautiful woman, as he found himself contemplating at all hours of the day and night. She reminded him of some classic silver screen beauty, and, god knows, she certainly carried herself like one… well, until Lavery moved back into the picture and gave her a dose of those puppy eyes of his.
Every time he glanced her way, it was like she regressed to some helpless state of mind, unable to move forward or back without his saying that she was allowed to do it. Zach had doubts that that was the true meaning of forever love. Granted, his past with love wasn't exactly all that stable… and his memories of Maureen were surprisingly dim now.
It had surprised him to realize that one morning, to make the shocking insight that his moments that had always seemed so sacred with Maureen were fading and falling away under the new images of Kendall that he was building. Moments when she came to work at his office, only to spend the whole time learning to play Blackjack with him.
Things had changed and he had no idea what to do about it, no idea what to really say these days, say when he met those all too perfect eyes of hers and she laughed at him just to break the awkward silence building at his quiet perusal of her form.
Yes, she was slowly filling his head; images of her as she learned how to shuffle like a dealer and sounds of her nervous laugh when they exploded across his desk and how her hands felt whey both started gathering the cards… she was filling his head and he had no idea how to stop it anymore…. He couldn't stop the caring that was slowly becoming more.
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know the diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
He sat in his car in his parking space, hesitating… should he really go over… maybe he should have Edie call her and tell her… what if she thought he was getting to personal? No, telling her to get ready for the opening wasn't that personal was it? No, it was just a dress… she was a grown woman and he was a grown man… he could simply suggest that she find something that made her even more appealing than usual.
God knew, the woman knew how to dress… especially that dress she had been wearing last night. It had been gorgeous, a perfect compliment to that willowy figure, right down to how the shirt had swirled around her legs as she walked. Right down to how much of her back had been available to his sight.
The long slope of it when she'd reached for the Teriyaki chicken, and how much his fingers had itched to slip that hair away and slide his hand up and down her spine, enjoying the softness of his skin, and he had no doubt she had perfect skin. He had no doubt that, in the middle of the night, her back would feel wonderful as his fingers trailed across it while she slept.
Zach sighed, eyes closed, and his hands, on the steering wheel, were tight as he braced himself mentally. He could do this… he was a grown fucking man… so why the hell did he feel like a teenage boy ready to go pick up his date for the Prom… he'd never had the Prom… he'd been off surviving by that time.
He opened his car door, stepped out and, feeling suddenly claustrophobic, he shoved off his jacket, hanging it once again over his arm. He could do this. You can do this Zach… you're a grown man… yeah, real fucking grown huh? He was actually fucking shaking. No, he could do this… he could make this easy on both of them.
He may play the jack of diamonds
He may lay the queen of spades
He may conceal a king in his hand
While the memory of it fades
In hindsight, he shouldn't have reached out to grab her when she'd pitched forward in her effort to get away from him… but the move had been instantaneous, to throw out his hands and grab her when that damn heel of hers had caught on the edge of the fine dark carpet beneath her feet.
He'd come in to find her sitting at her coffee table, kneeling as she sorted through photos; she'd seen him and darted away, looking pale and babbling something about being busy… damn those fucking heels she insisted on always wearing. She'd pitched forward and he'd caught her, hands grabbing onto her bare arms.
The photos had scattered, fallen to the floor of her home like a snowstorm and his eyes had settled on the one right beneath him. He'd released her to sit on the floor, studying the way the light glittered off the smooth picture… studying the way Lavery's hand set on her hip and her weight rested on his lap… studying the way she leaned her head against his.
He was aware of the horrified look she was giving him, aware of her quick, devastated breathing… and, very suddenly, all he could feel was what she was doing to him… this was what happened, this was what happened when he let people in…
It always ended like this… his head rose, hazel gaze meeting hers and, for long moments he stared at her, hazel eyes too open as he worked to shut himself down before she could see what she had so quickly learned to pick up from just the last days spent together. Finally, with a slow swallow, he managed to do it, managed to pull back his weakness and once again, get a leash on his emotions.
They were still there, inside, a painful sore in that place she touched with her smile… Her smile hurt too much to be that beautiful, as beautiful as the one she gave Lavery in that glossy reflection.
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know the diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
That's not the shape, the shape of my heart
Hidden again, those things concealed from her probing gaze, he bent, his fingers catching the edge of the photo. Straightening, he held it out, saying nothing… saying everything. She looked horrified, looked absolutely devastated and, inside, he understood the feeling all too well.
And then she snatched it away and there was that familiar surge of electricity when her fingers touched his, something that made his heart lurch in his chest and made that ache suddenly become a blow to his insides. Stepping back, she darted around the couch, eyes wary and, more than anything else, there was something pleading there.
"You need to find yourself something for the grand opening next week." That's right, Zach, just keep talking like that… don't let her see anything… she doesn't deserve it.
Zach Slater had a good Poker face, always had had a good Poker face and, now, he thanked God it was so good. When he next spoke, he revealed nothing and the lack of what she had so quickly become so accustomed to seeing made her flinch.
"If you love that picture so much, you shouldn't let it fall to the floor, huh?"
He turned, trying to ignore the crack in her gaze and opened her door, stepping out and slamming it closed behind him. He stood there for a long time, or maybe it was only a second, and his breath hitched the slightest, a break for just a heartbeat of his careful mask. Anyone looking at him for that one single second of time would have seen him for just what he was.
He was a man, desperate for affection, for what she had been giving him for the last weeks… it wasn't just sex he wanted, it was something far stronger, something far more powerful and something that, for him, would slip through that perfect poker face… He saw it now, in the glaring light of the afternoon sun, a painful truth finally being accepted.
He was in love with her.
And if I told you that I loved you
You'd maybe think there's something wrong
I'm not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who are lost
He heard the movement from behind the door at his back and he started off, stalking fast across the courtyard and letting himself quickly into his… into the place where he existed. Letting the jacket drop to the floor, he reached to either window, snapped the blinds shut and then, only then, did he let himself lean against the door.
He was okay… he was fine… she was just a woman… he'd lived alone for years, he could go back to that. So why the hell did it hurt so much? Reaching up, he covered his eyes with his hand, ignoring the way the stubble scraped his palm and fingers… didn't matter… nothing really mattered when he felt like this.
And then there were footsteps… quick clicking across concrete that his sharp hearing picked up in the silence of this place where he existed… then silence, foreboding and chilling and painful to the heart… he turned, looked down at the doorknob, ready to open it… he wanted to, he truly did… but… a heart, even the calmest, most controlled heart, can still only take so much…
Zach's couldn't do this… he braced a hand against the door and paused at that, feeling a warmth beneath his hand, something strange considering how cold the rest of the door was… he almost opened the door then, he did, his hand was on the knob, was ready to turn it… no…
His hand turned the slightest bit, his fingers found the lock and clicked it… it was the only thing he could do right now… to do anything to try to stop how he felt, how painful his heart drummed in his chest… he was in love with her and she still only had eyes for Lavery…
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know the diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
That's not the shape of my heart