Disclaimer: Must we be reminded that we don't own these characters? But one day, we will own them... we're living in denial.

A/N: Just to remind our readers, this story explores the other gals' relationships in depth as well, so don't think that just because there might seem to be a bit too few Romy moments, does not mean there won't be any. Frankly, Spice wouldn't let that happen since she has some pretty sassy sexy Romy moments planned. A hint of who Spice is: her stories are so well sewn together that I truly think she is one of the best writers ever! She's so cool just like all our wonderful readers! Kisses to all! - Sugah

Mix 'n' Match

(4) Surprises and Misgivings

Having purposely ignored the parting words of that deplorable flirt back at the club, it had taken Betsy another half an hour to locate 'Le Jardin'. After circling the block for an extra ten minutes, she finally found a place to park the car with the place staring right at her in such a way that she felt as if it didn't want her there.

But, there she was; over an hour late, but there nonetheless.

As soon as she opened her car door, a sudden rush of cold air chilled her and she intuitively reached for the scarf she had left in the backseat. Winding it around her porcelain neck, she jumped out of her car, slammed the door shut, and walked quickly to the eco-club. When she reached the door, she realized that it didn't look the least bit inviting. The windows were covered with newspaper from the inside and the sign was a pitiful piece of wood that had 'Le Jardin' carved into it. There's probably still work that needs to be done, she reasoned, and snatched the door handle open.

Slipping in quietly, she discovered that "quiet" wasn't an option, as she'd just interrupted a speech, and all eyes were focused on her.

"Sorry... I had trouble finding the place," she apologized sheepishly and quickly took an empty seat in the back row.

"Ahem... as I was saying before our interruption..." the speaker began once again, though he didn't fail to throw a dirty look towards Betsy's direction, which merely made her sink lower in her chair.

"Betsy?" a voice whispered from her left, a few rows in front. She followed the voice and found the dark, smiling face of Neal. Returning his smile, she waved as he mouthed to her, "We have to talk."

She nodded her head in agreement and as soon as the speaker was done with his speech (most of which she drowned out), she quickly approached Neal.

"Hello," she greeted, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi Beautiful. Are you as excited as I am?" he questioned eagerly.

"Uhh... about what?" she asked, while attempting to not look so confused.

"About the rally!" he stated excitedly.

"What rally...?" she asked slowly.

"Didn't you listen to her speech at all?" he queried with already a hint of disappointment in his tone.

"That's a woman?" Betsy questioned, throwing another surprised glance at the speaker.

"Don't you think that's besides the point? Honestly, sometimes I don't even think you're really committed to this. Perhaps you'd rather go back and wear a dead animal on your back while you walk down a catwalk with those despicable, arrogant, self-absorbed..."

"Neal! Please! I was listening..." Betsy insisted. Why was it that every time they started talking about her past she felt as if he was guilt-tripping her?

"Well then, are you going to come with the group or not?" he asked in a demanding tone, as if he was giving her an ultimatum.

"Of course, I am!" she reassured him, even though she didn't have the faintest clue what he was talking about. "This is as important to me as it is to you."

"Great. I've already booked our plane tickets. We leave for Geneva this weekend," he informed her, excited once more.

"Geneva?" she queried before she could stop herself. His smile once more gave way to a frown as he said sternly, "Well, if you were listening, you would have heard that we're going to go protest at the WTO headquarters in Geneva next weekend. Apparently, they're holding a secret ministerial conference – information that hasn't even been released to the public. But our informant got wind of the news, and we're going to protest it. After all, think about all the people in those third world countries that get exploited as fast as globalization spreads – not to mention the pollution all those new factories cause. So, are you still going or not?"

"I...," she stalled and tried to process all the information in her head. She was sure she had something to do next weekend, but as she looked into Neal's gorgeous yet disapproving brown eyes, she quickly said, "Of course I am."

"Terrific. It's going to be great, Betsy," he stated enthusiastically and swept her up into his arms.

"I'm sure it will be..." she mumbled, a fake smile plastered on her face, as she desperately attempted to recall the important event she was supposed to attend that same weekend.

-oOo-

It was supposed to have been a romantic dinner for two.

Here they were, in the fanciest restaurant in town, eating a gourmet three-course meal under soft-hued candlelight, looking out over the brightly lit city while a band serenaded them with a lilting tune. To any other woman, it would've been a perfect setting. But somehow the night hadn't turned out the way Jean Grey had been anticipating.

"I don't trust him," Scott was saying, glaring at the handsome young waiter standing to attention across the room. "Did you see the way he was looking at you? You shouldn't have worn that dress, Jean. It attracts too much attention."

Across from him, Jean frowned over her dinner plate, wondering what was wrong with the green satin cocktail dress her and Betsy had picked out the week before.

"Darling, I wore this dress for you. To be honest, I don't care what any other guy thinks about it, just as long as you like it."

She saw the look of doubt on his face, as he was torn between her obvious beauty and the fact that it was indeed attracting a lot of male attention.

"Of course, I didn't mean it that way, honey," he replied at last. "You look simply ravishing tonight. But I just don't like the way that guy's staring at you."

"Let him stare," she murmured seductively. "You know I only have eyes for you, Scott Summers."

That seemed to pacify him. Honestly, Jean thought, sighing inwardly, I hadn't noticed how jealous he was. It was kind of cute at first, but now that we're nearly married, it's getting ridiculous.

"Jean," he began again, lifting up his wineglass and looking a little sheepish, "I have a confession to make."

"What?" she asked humorously. The things Scott usually felt guilty about were counting up the bills wrong or forgetting to put the dishwasher on.

"I hate to break this to you, Jean," he said, "but the Xavier Conglomerate has asked me to go to California this coming Friday to compare data results with our sister company. It looks like I'm going to be away until Sunday the following week."

"Next Sunday?" Jean exclaimed. "But by the time you get back that'll only leave us with two weeks before the wedding, and there's still so much we have left to organize..."

"I know, dear," he replied, covering her hands comfortingly with his own. "But I simply can't let Mr. Xavier down. Besides, my entire future's riding on this. You know if I make an impression this time round, it'll get me a promotion."

"But, Scott," Jean reasoned, trying to keep her calm, "your promotion is hardly an issue at the moment. I bring in enough money for the both of us to live comfortably on. We won't need to worry about that until we buy that new house and have some kids..."

"Jean," he interrupted her quickly. "You don't understand. I wouldn't feel quite ... comfortable, if we were married and you were the main breadwinner. I want to do my part for our future together. See?"

Jean nodded slowly. What she wanted to say was that money didn't really matter a bit to her, but she knew how important this was to Scott and didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"What about the wedding?" she asked instead.

"I'm sure you can handle things perfectly yourself," he smiled encouragingly at her. "There's not a lot left for us to settle anyhow. And if you need my help, well, you can always call me on my cell phone, anytime of the day or night. I promise you, I'm not abandoning you. And it'll only be a week. You'll be fine. I'll be back in no time and then we can look forward to a beautiful wedding. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied doubtfully. She knew how eager Scott was to get his promotion but recently his work seemed to have become something of an obsession. It hadn't always been like this. Back when they'd first met four years ago, things had been so different; she had been attracted to his stability, his honesty, and his kindness. But since the engagement, something had changed. Suddenly, their relationship just didn't have that certain spark anymore. It had become stale and lacked the excitement she so craved. She knew that part of it was due to the change in Scott. Ever since they'd become engaged, it seemed as though every decision he made revolved around her. To most women, this might not necessarily have been a bad thing. But when Scott took it to the level of being overly jealous and constantly worrying about the money issue – even though they didn't even have a financial problem – she knew that somehow it just didn't feel right. He was so concerned about doing all that was necessary in making this marriage work that it seemed as though he'd forgotten why he was marrying her in the first place. To her, it felt as though he merely wanted a wife, not a lifelong companion.

And now here he was again, putting his career ahead of her and confirming her fears. It was hard to believe that once upon a time she would gladly have given up the profession she loved to be with him.

For the rest of the evening, Jean couldn't find the appetite to eat another thing.

-xXx-

It was Monday morning and the apartment was in a tip. Betsy was in her bedroom, sitting inside a massive pile of designer clothes, frowning to herself. She'd been at it for three hours already, and still had the whole 1300 squared feet of apartment left to clean. Ever since she'd let the maid go, she'd neglected the consequences that would arise from that particular decision. Looking around her still messy bedroom, she sighed with defeat and gave up.

What she needed wasn't a maid, but a smaller apartment. Perhaps, she could even stay at Neal's for a few days if she really couldn't stand the sight of her own place. Though, knowing him, he would order her back here to clean up the mess that she was responsible for and remind her that recycling is a must.

As much as she enjoyed Neal's company, she couldn't but feel inferior to him sometimes. Yet she simply reminded herself that Neal made her a better person – a more caring person, and ultimately, that was the only thing that mattered.

Ring Ring

She reached for the cordless phone on her bedside table, only to find it was missing. The ringing persisted as she rose and searched her room in a fury. After ten rings, she finally unearthed it from the bottom of the gigantic pile of clothing.

"Hello?" she answered, while trying to catch her breath.

"Betts, sugah, what took you so long?" It was Rogue, sounding excited and breathless.

"Oh, nothing," she replied, wading through the pile of clothes to get out of her bedroom. "From the sound of your voice it isn't half as exciting as what you're about to tell me."

"Oh, Betts, you ain't gonna believe it," Rogue practically squealed in reply, "but from this day forward, Ah am no longer unemployed!"

"Rogue, that's...brilliant," Betsy half-heartedly enthused, almost tripping over a bra in the process. "I must say you move pretty fast. I didn't even know you'd applied for a job, let alone gone for an interview. So? Who's the lucky company that hired you?"

"Ah'm now an assistant at the marketing and advertisement department of Laurier and Lauriel," Rogue announced proudly. Betsy gasped.

"What? Laurier and Lauriel? The Laurier and Lauriel? Rogue, they're one of the biggest perfume retailers in the world!"

"Ah know."

"And do you know who they've just signed up to be the new face of the company?"

"That, Ah don't know."

"Ororo Munroe."

"What! You're kiddin'!" Rogue practically shrieks.

"Nope. They signed her on last week." Betsy half-sighed. What she wasn't telling Rogue was that just before she'd quit her modeling job, she had been about to sign a contract with L&L as their new face and representative. Now they'd signed on the world-famous African model, Ororo Munroe, who just happened to be Betsy's old friend and rival. She knew she shouldn't be feeling sore about it – she'd quit modeling voluntarily to be with Neal after all. But she couldn't help but feel a tiny little bit of regret when she remembered the excitement of the photo-shoot and the catwalk.

"Look, Rogue," she began again, "I'm really happy you landed this job, and I know you'll do just great, but I'm a little busy at the moment. Maybe I could call you later?"

"Sure." Rogue sounded puzzled nevertheless. "Just don't make it too late, 'kay? Gotta get my beauty sleep early t'night. Ah start my first day tomorrow mornin'."

"I won't, luv," Betsy assured her, and hung up. She hated to put Rogue off like that, but she really wasn't in the mood to start reminiscing about her modeling past. She had enough on her plate as it was. Just as she was about to give up on her bedroom and fix some lunch, the phone rang again.

"Hello?" she greeted on a weary breath as she answered the call.

"Elisabeth, you've been engaged for ages," the shrill voice of Elisabeth senior came through the line. "Who were you talking to?"

"Hello Mum. It was only a friend," Betsy replied, rolling her eyes. Her once supportive and loving mother had become a pain in the ass ever since Betsy had told her she had ended her modeling career.

"You sound out of breath. What've you been doing?" her mother inquired suspiciously.

"I was cleaning, Mum," she answered and flopped back onto the bed.

"Cleaning? Well, where's your maid?" Elisabeth Sr. queried.

"I don't have a maid anymore," Betsy responded.

"And why not? You can afford one since I know how much money I send you every month." she replied sarcastically, reminding Betsy that she was still dependent on her.

"Mother, I do not need your money," she stated through clenched teeth.

"Funny, I never see you sending back the cheques," Elisabeth Sr. commented.

"Why are you calling, Mum?" Betsy finally asked, wanting more than anything to end the conversation as soon as possible.

"About this weekend. You will be staying for the whole weekend, I'm assuming?" her mother asked.

"What about this weekend?" Betsy queried.

"Elisabeth, have you already forgotten?" she asked in such a tone that Betsy knew that saying 'yes' would only get her a lashing from her mother.

"No... I haven't." She knew there was something she was supposed to be doing – it's just that her life was so disorganized nowadays she hadn't a clue what it was...

"Well, I can tell from the tone of your voice that you most certainly have forgotten," Elisabeth Sr. stated sternly. "Really, what am I supposed to do with you? How can you forget it's the Annual Braddock Foundation Gala? Your father and I are expecting you to be here."

"But I'm going to be in Geneva," Betsy said, regretting it as soon as the words tumbled out her mouth.

"Why in the world are you going to Geneva?" Elisabeth Sr. asked with distinct displeasure.

"Neal and I are attending a conference regarding the WTO there," Betsy explained simply, making sure not to elaborate any further.

"Oh no... don't tell me this is one of those silly tree-hugging protests! Elisabeth, I forbid you to go to those ridiculous rallies! Ever since you quit your job, you've been hanging around with hippies who fill your head with ludicrous nonsense. Elisabeth... I want you to get your act together. You've come too far to throw away your whole career, your whole LIFE, for something so insanely absurd."

Here it is, Betsy thought. Mum's inevitable lecture. God give me strength!

"Mother, this isn't crazy or ludicrous nonsense!" she interrupted before she could hear anymore. "We're helping people here. We're working to save the environment. We have a social responsibility to this world and I refuse to just stand around and do nothing. And it would help if daddy would stop using those poor animals in his..."

"You stop right there!" her mother practically yelled at her. "You do not talk about your father in that way. He is a renowned scientist and is respected worldwide for his contributions to science. Not to mention he is your father and has always supported you and loved you and put food on the table so you won't starve, so don't you start bringing up that mumbo-jumbo about the rats he uses in his laboratory! Young lady, I have had just about enough of you. You will come to the Gala next weekend. No excuses. You are not going to Geneva to protest and get arrested. Do. You. Understand. ME?"

By now the blood in Betsy's veins was practically at boiling point. How dare her mother tell her how to live her life? How dare she tell her who to see and who not to see? How dare she try to change her morals and beliefs? She was a full-grown woman now and she didn't need to take any of this grief her mother was constantly giving her.

"Mum..."

"Elisabeth, do you understand me?" she repeated once more.

"Yes, mother," Betsy agreed in defeat, sighing at her own weakness. It was a pitiful display on her behalf but after all, but she knew better than to resist her mother when she was in this kind of mood. Besides, turning up to the gala was her responsibility to the Braddock family, and she knew how important it was to her father. How could she bear to let him down?

"Good," her mother continued, finally satisfied. "I will send Jeffrey to pick you up at the airport. I expect you to dress appropriately, and that is an order, young lady."

"Yes, Mother."

"Fine. Now, I have responsibilities to take care of because believe it or not, that is what adults do. I suggest you take care of yours. Good-bye Elisabeth. I'll see you soon." And before Betsy could even say a proper good-bye to her undoubtedly infuriated mother, she had already hung up.

"UGH!" Betsy cried with frustration.

Even though it was less than a week away, she already knew that the Gala was going to be a big disaster.

-oOo-

Well, ain't this a lucky break? It's been less than a week and I've already proudly crossed off the top point on my List of Priorities. Truth is, I don't know whether to feel happy or suspicious. My luck's never worked this good before. I just can't help thinking that there's gotta be some hidden catch somewhere. Oh well. Who's complaining? I'm now officially a marketing assistant. Now all I have to do is call the damned plumber. And hope a decent guy comes my way.

It's Tuesday, and I set out early for my first day at L&L. I'm determined that this time I'm going to make a good impression, no matter what. I stride into the building with all the confidence I can muster. The receptionist gives me directions to the marketing and advertisement department on the thirty-fifth floor. On the way up, everyone's friendly. Everyone smiles at me. I smile back. I even say a few hellos to people I don't know. Everyone and everything is just swell.

I begin to think that maybe there's no catch at all.

First thing's first – I need to talk to my boss. I wander the corridors of the thirty-fifth floor, already utterly lost. That's when things start to look a little less rosy. Okay, no big deal. All I have to do is ask someone directions. I turn a corner and find myself in front of what seems to be an office. So I knock and open the door, and what do you think I find? A couple making out up against a filing cabinet. The woman squeals when she sees me and pushes the man away, attempting to redo the top buttons of her blouse before I notice. Oops.

"Oh, uh...Ah'm so sorry, Ah didn't..." I mutter, thoroughly embarrassed – until I see who the Casanova happens to be.

Remy LeBeau.

As soon as he recognizes me he shoots me that dazzling smile, looking for all the world as if nothing's happened at all – despite the fact that his shirt's half undone.

"Why, hello, cherie," he grins. "You come t' join us?"

I glower heavily at him. The arrogance of this man is enough to make me want to throw up! So why're my cheeks burning already?

"Ah think Ah'd rather kiss a snake, thanks very much," I state with as much venom as I can.

He turns and faces me, seeming to have all but forgotten about his dark-haired bimbo.

"You got y'self a swamp snake right here, p'tit," he replies, spreading his arms in invitation, showing off his amazing pecs and reminding me just how incredibly hot he is. Goddammit Rogue! Get a grip on yourself!

"Sorry, but a ménage-a-trois just ain't mah thing," I retort icily. "Though maybe you an' your floozy should think about goin' and findin' yourselves a room b'fore someone else comes in an' catches yah with your pants down."

I slam the door shut in their faces before he can get another word in. Trust my luck to come face to face with that idiot Cajun on my first day here! And everything was going so well up until now. Dammit!

I wander down the next corridor, silently remonstrating myself for not having slammed the door shut the moment I'd walked in on them. Honestly, what had possessed me to hang around talking to that beastly man, torturing myself with his presence? And why the hell am I still blushing? Anyone would think I hadn't seen a guy's pecs before. In fact, I'm so flustered by this latest encounter that as I turn a corner I end up colliding with a girl coming the opposite way, sending her papers fluttering to the floor in a whirlwind of white.

St-rike two, Roguey!

"Oh mah God, Ah'm so sorry!" I apologize as I bend down, trying to retrieve her notes. "Ah wasn't lookin' where Ah was goin'!"

The girl helps me pick up her papers with a small smile. "It's okay," she reassures me, "don't worry about it. I was just going to get these shredded anyway." She bundles the papers under one arm and stands up with me. She's a cute-looking girl, probably only a few years younger than me, with a fresh, freckled face and chestnut hair drawn back into a tight ponytail. "Say, is that for real or what?" she asks me. It takes me a second to realize she's talking about the white skunk stripe in my hair.

"What, this?" I blow one of the annoying locks out of my face. "Yeah, Ah know, kinda looks like a bad fashion statement, doesn't it. But it's for real. Had it ever since Ah was born."

"Are you kidding?" the girl giggles back. "It's awesome! Wish I had hair like that. But don't people stare at you? I'd feel really self-conscious."

"Trust me, you get used to the stares after a while," I smile. "And there are even some guys who like the novelty factor it brings," I add with a wink. The girl laughs a cute, bubbly laugh.

"Say, are you the new girl?" she asks me. "I don't think I've seen you round here before."

"Sure am," I reply. "Name's Anna Raven. Ah've just started today."

"Anna Raven? That's a real pretty name. I'm Katherine Pryde. But everyone calls me Kitty." She sticks out her hand towards me and I shake it.

"Hey, Kitty. Pleased to meet you."

She beams a dimpled smile at me.

"Hey, since it's your first day and all, if you need any help getting around or anything, please don't hesitate to ask me. I'm just a lowly filing clerk round here, but I know pretty much everything there is to know about L&L, so if you need any tips..."

"That'd be great, thanks," I nod. "Actually, there is something Ah need a hand with. You don't happen to know where the boss's office is? Ah'm kinda lost."

"Well, that's easy enough," Kitty replies, shifting the papers under her other arm. "You're going the wrong way. Just go back down that corridor and it should be at the end of the passage."

"Thanks," I say.

"Hey, don't mention it. And don't worry – you'll do fine. The boss can be a bit...uh, full-on the first time you talk to him, but he's nice really. Now I've really gotta go shred these files. Catch you later, Anna."

"See ya."

Kitty leaves, passing me a wave before disappearing round a corner. I breathe in deeply, mentally steeling myself for the first meeting with my boss. Then I set off to meet the inevitable.

It turns out that the boss's room is right next to one where I'd caught that god-awful beast of a man making out with that girl. Durnit, why can't I stop thinking about that sleaze-bag? I knock on the door, trying to put all thoughts of him out of my mind.

"Come in," says a familiar voice.

I push the door open and when I see who's waiting inside, all I can do is stand there and hope my jaw doesn't hit the floor.

Who else should it be but one tall, dark, handsome and accented Cajun with gorgeous eyes?

-xXx-

To be continued...