Anyway, I have finally laid out the basic outline for my Mondo-fic of death… and I've got good news and bad news. The good news? This is a BAM fic… duh, it's on the BAM board. And there will be some very good BAM romance… well, I'm proud of it so you know, even if it sucks, I'll still post it. The bad news? Well, this is going to be long. There will also basically be what I consider four parts. The first is extremely dark so I'm warning you right now. There will be some dark and mature mentions of things that I realize might need to be warned about. After that will be much fluff and romance and romantic fluff. Then there will be angst… heavy, heavy, heavy angst… and I mean angst people… read one of my Babe and JR fics… even more angst-y than those! Then, finally, there will be romance and, this time, there will be an actual happy-ending! No, really, I mean it! A happy-ending, I promise! Geez… why don't you guys believe me…?
Stand By MeChapter Five
Amy watched from her perch atop Micaela's bed as her boss put the folded clothes in, book in her hands as she contemplated ways to get Micaela to stop fretting about her. The older woman, in her pleated green skirt and black silk camisole top-thingie, worked barefoot, easily preparing for her trip to Switzerland.
Turning away from the bed, she waltzed back to the several dresses hanging in her still mostly empty closet and picked one, a little dark red number, slipping it out and laying it out on her bed. Her book forgotten, Amy finally set it aside, stifling a yawn and refusing her gut need for coffee until Micaela was on the plane and off.
"So, how long are you gonna be gone, anyway?"
Black hair shifted, slid over a shoulder as Micaela shook her head with a sigh. "Well, I'll be there a day, then I'll meet up for the papers about the club and then… hmm… well, that other business will take a good two days."
"You mean enjoying Mr. Adam Chandler's spa and resort?" Smirking, she rolled her big blue eyes. "Yeah, Micaela, that takes just days of work, really!"
"Shut up, Amy." Twisting away from the younger woman's laughter, she shook her head again, striding to her dresser and picking her way through bottles of perfume and containers of lotion, she started choosing one here and there. "Besides, I'm a business woman… I need a break every so often, Madame Cohen."
"Still…" Amy patted her pajama-clad leg, wishing she had changed into actual clothes before she'd rushed over here to get the news about the big trip. What she wouldn't do to be out of her Hockey puck decorated slacks and into actual jeans. Her tank top wasn't that bad but it wasn't good to go running around Pennsylvania in January like this. "So, Mr. Chandler just showed up and gave you this big deal?"
"Yep." With her arms half-full of her necessities, Micaela turned, took a few steps and dropped them all to the bed. Looking up, she flashed a grin at her closest friend, and all the force of her little five-foot frame was in that big old smile of hers. "Maybe I'm just a good business woman, huh?"
"Or, maybe he wants a piece." She paused, studied the sudden ashy quality of Micaela's warm brown skin and the horrified look in deep brown eyes and instantly offered, "Sorry for that imagery."
"Yeah… that would be like bedding Pa, I think." She gave a full-body shiver, a fine shiver along her frame and, snatching up the small bag at her side, she began to look through the stuff she'd pulled from the dresser top. "Please, Amy, never say anything like that again. Besides, I'll be riding over there with the same sonofabitch who sent me to jail."
"JR Chandler." Her interest peaked, Amy rolled to her knees and scooted downwards, settling back down between bottles of Almond and Citrus lotions and crossing her legs Indian-style. "What if he has a police force waiting on the flight for you? I mean, he put you in jail, Micaela. Still, he had a little bit of a reason to."
"Don't start with me, Madame."
"Micaela, you hit his parked car… his brand-new, extremely expensive new car that was parked." At Micaela's betrayed look, she simply shook her head, grinning her one-of-a-kind smile. "Why do you even continue to drive, Micaela? It's clear that the cars don't like you… why don't you just throw in the towel, hire yourself a chauffeur? You have the money."
"I don't need no damn chauffeur, Amy. Texans don't need no goddamn chauffeurs." She snorted, stomping one small bare foot on the carpet, and her accent—an accent that had charmed many a men in her twenty-five years from her Pa to the billionaire that she'd recently dumped after he'd proposed marriage—slipped forward in her irritation, a Texan twang. "I can drive a goddamn car… they just have something against my perfect state of perfection."
Amy was only barely able to hold in her eye-roll as Micaela put her last object in the bag and zipped it closed, carefully laying it in her black, wheeled luggage. Dropping the flap, she zipped that as well, lifting it off the bed and setting it to the side. "Okay, Calamity Jane, fine, you don't have issues with driving so let's stop the swearing, huh? Back to my first question… or was it the second? Anyway, it's a good deal?"
"A great deal." She picked up her brush from the bedside drawer, stepped lightly around the bed and dropped down beside Amy, carefully folding her legs under her. She started dragging the brush through her black hair, strong, effortless movements. "I mean, not only will I have the permission to build the club if I want, Adam Chandler will be providing the space for the club. I mean, I can't lose, right?"
"My witch sense is tingling, Micaela. Was there anything else in the documents? What?" she asked at Micaela's sudden twitch and slight jump, not to mention the sudden nervous shiftiness of the eyes. "What? Did you sign anything extra?"
"No… come on, you're talking to Buck Kincaid's baby girl… I know how to sign business papers. I mean, Pa taught me well, you know that. Besides, really, your witch sense tingles when I get one too many beers in your system." Ignoring the continued curious look, she kept up the brushing, the light glinting off the emerald and silver of her most beloved possession, her ring.
"Doesn't change the fact that it's usually right though. Even if it's about the fact that the sense tells me that I'm drunk."
"Uh-huh." She finally stopped, stood and hopped lightly to stare at her reflection in the mirror, studying the way her hair fell. Nodding in pleasure and apparently finished, she set down the brush and picked up the green blazer that was lying nearby, slipping it on and tugging it into the right lay.
She buttoned it, studied her reflection and frowned, shaking her head. Opening the buttons, she studied her reflection and nodded, smoothing hands down her black top-thingie. She turned, held her hands out in a half-pose and asked, "How do I look?"
"Very Micaela-esqe."
"Ha ha ha, you tall freak. Really? Do I look business worthy?"
"Oh, yes, definitely. So, who's going to drive you to the plane?"
"I can still drive, you know."
"That's what you think." Snatching up the brush, Micaela flung it in her direction and she ducked her head with a squeak, straightening with laughter. "Missed me. But, really, I can drive you if you want. God knows, you should live long enough to enjoy your club since you're gonna get it after all this time."
"Well, if you insist." She watched as Amy climbed off the bed, unfolding long legs and tugging back on her jacket, leaving the bedroom with Micaela following, large leather work bag over one shoulder, rolling her bag along behind her. "My offer to buy you an apartment is still open, you know. You don't have to stay at that Pine Cone place."
"I already said no, okay? I want to get myself an apartment or some other place to stay. And, you know, I'm still looking for some nice little couple who'll lend me one of their old rooms that are empty they're kids are at college."
"Yeah… that also translates to the fact that you want a nice little grandpa and grandma, Amy." She stepped past her, watching as the taller woman locked and checked the door. Leaning the roller for a moment against her leg, she tugged her sunglasses out and put them on, a very model-esqe movement if you asked Amy.
Even if Micaela was completely drunk after a night out and completely out of it she still managed to look classy and this was no exception. She walked perfect, talked perfect and was, in essence, perfect. Well, actually, she was bitchy, sneaky, short-tempered and had enough abandonment issues to make even Amy herself look emotionally healthy.
But, the fact was, she was able to hide all of that extremely well and that, in itself, was what made her so damn perfect. While everyone else went around and tried to achieve perfection, she lived in a state of false perfection and made others look on in awe. She no longer worried about it because she got the point: there was no such thing as perfection.
Kendall was still upset with her and Bianca was about to crack up, especially since she no longer had any idea where her sister was. No, she was off somewhere with Zach Slater, going through with their apparent new deal. God only knew how Mom was going to take the news and right now, Bianca was too chicken to even answer her mother's curious questions about Kendall's sudden disappearance just a few hours after JR's.
Their fight, witnessed by Zach himself, couldn't have been worse really. What had started as Kendall's request to let Miranda visit JR had become a huge blow-out and, before she knew it, she'd found Kendall holding open the door, stance cold, eyes chilly blue. The fact that the whole business arrangement had slipped out in the battle hadn't helped and she'd left, fighting tears and wishing that she could run over to JR and give him some reason not to hate her.
But, no… she had to protect Babe.
On top of the fact that her sister currently wanted nothing to do with her, Miranda had found herself down with a cold. The entire night had been spent trying to ease her fussing and keep her calmed enough to get the medicine in every six hours. Now, finally, with the sun up and the morning dew outside glittering like pearls, she finally had Miranda asleep and lay out along her couch, bright red baby medicine straining her best new white top.
JR probably knew how to get Miranda to take her medicine. Hell, she'd seen him do even, when she'd dropped by months before. Babe had been helpless and the only one who'd managed to get the awful-tasting stuff in had been JR, who'd crooned her calm enough to make her swallow.
Bianca reached up, pushed sticky hair from her face and closed her eyes with a groan, wishing she hadn't thought of JR. JR, currently in Switzerland, now was in a kind of extra special business deal with Kendall and Zach, something about getting what he wanted while they got what they wanted.
She had to stop thinking about JR… she had to. She'd promised Babe that she would do everything in her power to keep her safe and sound. Even if that meant that JR mourned like she had… God… she covered her face with her hands, stretched out a bit more and folded her legs tighter, wanting nothing to do but sleep.
And, then, just when images of the Chandler family began to dim, fade from her inner view, the battering against her door started, a violent slam of a fist against a door. Almost falling, her heart in her throat and thoroughly intending to find Palmer Cortlandt and Adam Chandler at her door, bellowing for their nephew/grandson, she staggered, tipped over a toy and almost slammed down hard. Finally though, breathless, she yanked the door open and nearly fell when Maxie strode past her like some queen.
Boy, she had certainly adjusted quickly to her grandfather's money, hadn't she? Perfect heels, flawless dress, diamond necklace and earrings… the young showgirl had even highlighted her dark hair with honey gold streaks. She tossed her bag—something that would have fed a family of four for a month—to the couch and spun, huge grin on her face.
"I did it!" She threw out her hands, light flashing off the massive rock that adorned one finger. "I finally got it all fixed up for us and little Miranda!"
"Um, what?"
Hazel eyes looked her over, settling on the medicine stain as her mouth pinched slightly. "The company? Cambias? It's all signed up for us to make ourselves, just… ooh!" Dear God, she looked like she was about to have an orgasm right in front of Bianca… right down to the final cry of joy as she threw out her hands again. "Can you believe how amazing this all is!"
"Um… yeah?"
"Here, come here. Sit, sit, sit. Let me enlighten you as to the many things that I done since just a week ago."
Feeling drained, only dully aware of the way Maxie continued to peer every so often in distaste of the stain, she listened, head pounding and limbs aching with exhaustion. She was aware of her the part of her hair that had gotten splattered with the medicine was sticking to her and began trying to get the sticky mess off her skin—wait… what… "What!"
Maxie froze, blinking before, with a roll of Zach's intense hazel eyes, she sighed and dropped her hand from where she'd been inspecting the rock. "Fusion. That little cosmetic company run by the Three Stoggettes? It's mine now."
"No." She leaned forward, grabbed Maxie's arm. "The company… what did you say about it? I mean… you didn't!"
"I had to, Bianca… she… she insulted me in public! She called me a— a two-bit whore… I can't let her get away with that!" She shook her head hard, hair whipping with the movement. "No, besides, she can always make herself a new company! I own this one! And, seeing that I own it, I can do what ever I want with it!"
Well, that answered the question of why Kendall was suddenly so goddamn set on kicking Maxie's pretty, perfect ass and even considering this plan. With a groan, Bianca pressed her palm against her skull, trying to ease the chaotic, painful thoughts and stop the building pressure of exhaustion and exasperation. God, no wonder Kendall had gone off on her like that… she probably thought that she didn't care at all!
"Oh, God, Maxie… you have to stop this, you have no idea what you're about to start okay? Just, give Kendall and Greenlee the company, okay? I mean—"
"No." The short answer froze Bianca in mid-word and she blinked in surprise at the chilly look she had focused on her. "Bianca, I have fought me ass off to get my birthright… my birthright, Bianca, what my father tried to take from me, what my mother promised me. This is the only good thing she ever gave me and you gave me that test. Kendall attacked me in public, she said that I was a lie and a scam and I will not be treated like some two-bit trash."
She stood, staring down at Bianca who just stared right back, punch-drunk and dazed by the sudden attack. "I did what you want, Bianca. I even got my hold and Chandler Enterprises and I'm now taking care of it. I'm disassembling it, like you asked. You begged me not to let him get all that power back, begged me not to let him get as dangerous as he can be and I did it. I'm disassembling it because you asked me to."
"Oh." It was the only thing she could say, staring up at Zach's young daughter, who she'd first met one night after one of her shows in Vegas and had immediately began supporting the young woman on her hungry search for her father. She watched, eyes wide as Maxie picked back up the bag and then headed for the door… and then paused, turning half-way to remark, "You might want to change out of that. You have a stain."
And then she was gone and, with a hollow sigh, Bianca dropped her head into her hands, a very sharp shudder of exhaustion racing through her slim form. And then, a painful sound from upstairs made her look up, grimacing as Miranda alerted her that was once again awake and in need of comfort.
The hammer lay in her briefcase; ready for her use, for if she would need it to protect her. It lay with the paper with the story of the woman who had finally passed away after a week of battling the beating that had left her to die in her invaded home. It was about to be cut out and put away in the box with the other nightmares she was terrified of.
Erin blew on her coffee, her eyes on the briefcase, where she could actually feel her safety just waiting for her, right in reach if he should show up… he'd never put his hands on her, do that to her… she'd die before she let him do that… Jonathon would die before he let him do that to her.
"Hey, Lavery."
Shit. She looked over and cringed inwardly at Ken, smarmy Ken… the office Grabby Hands. So what if he had grabbed every female ass and tit in this place? So what if she was the only one he had yet to cop a feel out of when he caught her alone in a hallway or copying room? So what if the bosses thought more of his earnings for the company than the fact that he went around molesting every woman in the company?
Erin didn't like him very much.
Not from the first time he'd caught her bending down for a dropped file and remarked how wonderful his office view was. Very few people could inspire real hatred from Erin Lavery… very few. Oh, she had rage but she was good at controlling it actually, good at staying calm even when dealing with royal fuck-heads.
Ken, however, inspired urges that she'd never had before. Never before had she ever truly despised anyone the way she despised this bastard. She managed to slip away when he got her cornered, twist when he leaned down to help her with the copying machine. The last time he'd decided to help him with the copying machine, she'd straightened up and slammed her elbow right into his crotch.
He'd stayed away for about a week after that but apparently he had healed completely, hadn't he?
As she watched, he came in, closing her office door with a little laugh, and, she noted, his eyes on her tits. She reached out, closed a hand over her still steaming coffee and his eyes shifted towards it, the slight smirk sliding off his face a bit. From what she understood, the men like Ken would have been weeded out before the shift of power a few years ago. Now, however, the new head boss didn't seem to give a damn.
"Is there something you'd like Ken?"
Wrong fucking choice of words, there, sister. His smirk bloomed again and, with an extra perky stride, he stepped closer but sadly, not yet close to get him with the coffee. "You know what you can do for me, Lavery. However, now is not the time and I have a question for you."
She just stared at him, face emotionless, and eyes shockingly cold and frozen. He sighed, and moved, still too far away to nail him with the coffee. "There are some big whispers of a big move."
"Fascinating, Kenneth, truly."
"And, well, our boss wants us to go on that trip."
Us? Shit. She felt her stomach lurch violently, felt her mouth go dry as the full complications of that single word sank into her skull, into her awareness. Shit. A trip together… together with this piece of shit. Shit.
"Yep. You and me, the best workers in this place on a happy trip to Pennsylvania, some stupid little town where we have to try to get some questions asked. Just you and me and fine, fine hotels." He was grinning at her, a leer, and she felt a surge of fury rise through her at the thought of them together. Son of a bitch…
"When?" Amazing, how well she could act calm as a lake even while such hatred coursed through her veins. Absolutely fucking amazing. She held the coffee more tightly, hoping the mug didn't shatter and not giving a damn how hot it was on her soft hand. How much her fingers were beginning to hurt at how tightly she held the mug.
"Hmm… apparently, the flight is scheduled for next week and then we'll be spending a week in a hotel room or two, doing our business. You know us, always having business to do." Business. She knew what kind of business he wanted to do… she snapped, cracked, completely broke all touch with sanity for a single second. That was all it took.
Her hand, holding onto the mug so tightly, jerked, turned and threw itself outward, towards him as she threw herself forward in her wheeled chair. The coffee hit right where she wanted, splashing as a hot wave of liquid across his crotch and stomach… she had a very big mug and every drop hit him full force.
He shrieked… He honestly fucking shrieked and it was a wonderful sound to her ears as she scooted herself backwards, rolling back even as she worked her face into perfect innocence. "Oh, God… Ken… I'm so sorry. What? Was it hot?" she asked, watching with large eyes as he jumped up, holding cloth away from skin and groaning in pain.
"You bitch!" He turned towards her and, god; there was that fury he so often had directed at her. But, see, Erin Lavery was a woman who could handle fury… she wasn't afraid of a man who raised his fists, she'd never be afraid of a man who used his fists. No, it had been that other look in his eyes that had freaked her so badly, caused her anger to slip like that. She hated that look in a man's eyes and never wanted to see it.
She watched, head cocked, as he left her office, swearing as he went, yelling for ice and wet towels at the top of his lungs. Erin Lavery didn't like him very much.
"You look beautiful."
Maggie looked up from her appraisal in the mirror, meeting Jonathon's clear brown gaze. She blushed, looked away, smoothing hands down the dark fabric. She heard him come in, heard his footsteps and, eyes still on her stomach, she watched his hands slide around, felt heat through the material.
"I do."
"Perfect." His mouth settled on her bare shoulder, stilled for a moment before beginning a slow trail of kisses up her neck and to stop just below that hollow. However, when his lips caught that hollow, she jerked and twisted and he, startled, observed her with large eyes. "Mags?"
She stepped back, reaching up to rub the spot hard, letting out a shaky laugh. "It's nothing," she reassured him, shaking herself forcefully. "It's nothing. You just spooked me slightly, you know?"
"Oh." He looked hurt, ashamed even and stepped back nervously tucked his hands into his pants pockets, nodding. "Yeah… it's okay. Sometimes I spook people."
Spot hurting now, she finally dropped her hand and stepped forward again, beaming as she slipped hands between his arms and around his waist, pressing herself close against his warmth, trying to draw it into herself. "I've been jumpy lately, you know? However, there is a way that we can solve my jumpiness, right?"
An arch of a dark eyebrow, a tilt of a head, and, moving forward, he looped arms around her and one settled on the open area of her back, spreading open fingers and holding her tightly. "Hmm… but we have that dinner reservation, Mags."
"Hmm… but we have time, Jonathon."
He chuckled and it felt nice against her, a warm rumble in his chest that he made too few of these days. It was nice… no, it wasn't perfect but it was nice and, very suddenly, she wanted it very much. Se pressed herself forward, pressed herself against him and, leaning back, she kissed him hard, holding him tightly.
It brought a rush to her and his hand, on her back, dipped lower, slid between dress and skin and continued to slide, warm and what she so desperately needed right now. Groaning, she pushed him, a full-body force and he went willingly, dropping back onto the bed, still holding her just how she wanted right now.
This was what she wanted right now, what she needed and he gave it to her, willingly, feeling desperation in her muscles and skin and touch and responding eagerly… never wanted to be a disappointment.