A Love Story
13)
Tad studied the plate of pancakes… looked up at the pancake maker, grinning. "Are you sure it's humanly possible to digest this much food?"
Dixie gave a laugh, came back to the table with her beloved syrup jug, pouring some out across the mountain o' pancakes before setting it carefully on the table, beaming, blue eyes sparkling. She was dazzling, in her nightgown, blonde curls bouncing, and he resisted the urge to grab her and head upstairs.
"You like my pancakes, don't you?"
"Of course, but… um, this is a lot of pancakes, Dix… lots." He stabbed the top one as a nod to just how many and she laughed, leaning back against the table, stretching out her bare toes playfully. "As in… many."
"Yes… and this'll only hurt for a second."
He swallowed the first bite, cautiously raised his head, letting out a baffled "What?"
Dixie smiled brightly, brought her skillet out from behind her back and brought it down on his head with a graceful laugh...
Tad's first real thought, upon realizing that Dixie had never hit him with a pan—at least not that I remember—was the pain that filled his head. Everything hurt, and he lay where he was, keeping his eyes closed and struggled to relieve the ache so that he could breathe easier.
He was dully aware that he could not lift his arms so he stopped trying; he lay there, breathing, for a good three minutes before finally forcing his eyes open a fraction. Thankfully, the prison he was currently in was darkened and so there was no driving pain from the bright light.
Turning his head, he stared blankly at the ties around his wrist, which were connected to what looked like a headboard; ignoring the throbbing, Tad turned to the other side, studying the other wrist. Huh… he'd bet money that, to judge by his inability to move his legs, his ankles were tied too.
"Have a good sleep, Lucy?"
Oh, no, he knew that voice, that smirk, that sparkle in the eyes, the sinister air that he wrapped himself in like a blanket. There he was, standing at the foot of Tad's prison—couldn't he keep me prisoner on a nice hotel bed?—and all he was missing was the old villain music and the outfit: black cape and top hat, maybe a mustache for extra drama?
Tad's answer, graceful, poetic and powerful, was nonetheless pathetically short… "Oh, crap."
Kendall was awakened from a dream about pink elephants and dancing hippos by a blaring phone. Mumbling, she grabbed twice before she managed to connect her hand to the phone; her eyes still glued together, she croaked out, "Yeah?"
"Kendall?"
"Mm… unh…"
"Look, it's me."
"Uh?"
"Jack. Kendall, stop trying to speak and just listen… good girl… you need to get over here… there's something… ahem, there's something wrong with your mother."
The feel of a leg across his stomach as he slept… the warmth of breath against his skin… the feel of a body curled against his… Enjoying the sensation, he reached out absently, patted the bare leg that crossed his shirt-covered stomach. The leg wasn't Babe's, wasn't his wife's… it made him a bit sad but…
JR's eyes snapped open, to meet the dimly lit ceiling as his mind shifted carefully through its last thought, a cautious ruffle through words. There is a leg across my stomach… a clean, bare leg… he patted it thoughtfully, raised an eyebrow at what felt like a scar behind the knee… a bare leg that doesn't belong to my ex-wife…
The next pat made the leg shift and he turned his head, watching as what resembled a nest of black yarn raised to peer at him with dark eyes. He was vaguely disturbed at the resemblance the thing had to that creepy chick from "The Grudge"… right down to the clicking… oh, no, that's the clock… never mind, JR…
In the dim light, there was just an odd silence as two pairs of eyes, one blue and one dark… kind of like doe-eyes… met over the sheets that she was tangled in… he wondered if she was as naked as she looked… naked as her leg looks… and then, somewhere outside the room with it's closed curtains and halted time, a car honked.
The honk wasn't all that loud, not through the glass and stone, but, for some reason, it interrupted a something… a mouth he hadn't seen through the nest opened and he was under attack from Micaela-fucking-Kincaide.
Her scream was bad enough when he was awake but on a sleep-deprived mind it was as if someone had stuffed a whistle into his brain and blown it with a foghorn… With a single yell of "Fuck!" he threw the leg off and flung himself back, forgetting that the bed wasn't quite as big as he liked his bed to be… His back spasmed in protest at hitting what had to be the coldest, hardest carpet imaginable, but he couldn't climb to his feet, not with the sheet apparently tied around every single one of his body parts…
Grunting, he yanked savagely on the leg still stuck under her ass and she let out another scream as she toppled back into her pillow, which blessedly muffled her screeches… finally, dragging himself up with the drawer, he stumbled out of the room, trying to unwrap the sheet from around his arms and legs, staggering, and finally letting himself slide to the couch, shaking and exhausted.
The noise had quieted… and the curtains were thankfully still closed against what looked like afternoon sun… when the door to his bedroom had opened, he slowly turned his head, inch by inch, to observe her… funny, she had looked kind of naked…
But her large shirt that read "Welcome to Tex-ASS" was wrinkled and the edge of the green shorts that peeked out from beneath were also wrinkled… she hadn't been naked, he thought thankfully… yes, brain, thankfully, of course thankfully… and he could concentrate on how loud he was about to scream at her…
Surprisingly, however, he found himself speaking in a disturbingly quiet voice as they stared at each other from across either side of the room. "How dare you sneak back in here to seduce me?"
Wait, seduce me... wait, JR, buddy, what! Okay, that was a strange beginning to a rant, he decided, especially considering how she was not yet on her knees, begging for forgiveness, because, hey, she just pissed off a Chandler here! But his next try was even more baffling… "Couldn't you have done it with your clothes off! I'm not that skilled… yet."
When we got her upset, he decided as her mouth opened, we have to make sure we have ears plugs or something because… "You low-down, no-good, dirty, short-of-stature, whining, stuck-up sonofabitch!" she screamed as she jumped off the step into the bedroom and approached him with an air of extreme violence. "You goddamn excuse for a human being… I'm gonna hitch you to my Pa's truck and hit the gas… drag you up and down the goddamn ranch you goddamn sonofabitch!"
He wasn't quite sure how he could understand what she was saying… before, when she'd talked, he'd only picked up the accent because of living with his Mom and knew accents, but now… he realized with an odd sense of amusement that she'd been hiding her accent this entire time… her real voice, filled with complete and total Tex-ass rage, was absolutely hysterical. From her inability to finish a word without beginning another to the twang that twisted every single word, he found himself desperately fighting the urge to laugh right in her face.
"I won't pay for the damages."
A heartbeat of absolute silence before… "Huh?"
Bracing his back and legs, still throbbing after the fall from the bed, JR pushed himself off the couch and she found herself staring at an expensive, albeit wrinkled shirt, speechless as she leaned her head back to meet his eyes. With a truly disturbing glint in his crystalline gaze, he smirked and it looked all too natural on what should have been a young face. "You said that you're gonna hitch me to your "Pa's" truck and hit the gas… when you hit the barn, I'm not going to pay for the damages."
Her voice was low and lethal and she swung her finger up to between his eyes, feeling a bit cheated when he didn't cross them the way most idiots did. "Don't you dare bring up my driving record, Junior."
Another, broader, smirk… a cocked eyebrow… a stronger glinting… "Good point… why would anyone expect anything better from a…"
"Don't finish that—"
"Texan?"
Oh, he was evil, true evil, the spawn of Satan, from his stupid muscles that no stupid white boy should have to his stupid blue eyes to his dumb hair… Her mouth opened and closed, trying to find hurtful words to sting him… anything to make him flinch and feel sorry for making her enjoy the feel of his hand on her leg before she realized it…
But she never meant to say what she did… never, not that, because, she had some vague idea of what he was going through… God knows, she saw her father still experiencing it… years later, she'd still feel waves of guilt from it, a heaviness when she glanced at him, even after he forgave her… "I guess your son's lucky not to have to deal with you, huh?"
As soon as the words were gone, she clamped a hand over her mouth, and if somebody had threatened her with a gun, she would have taken them up on the offer… she realized, as he bent half-way to pick up his jacket, that he'd been enjoying their fight-fest… oh, shit, oh, shit, Kincaide, you can't keep your fucking mouth shut…
God, she hated that look, that dullness in the eyes and slackness of shoulders and arms… unable to say anything that could reverse time and shove the words back in, she was forced to stand in horrified silence as he left the hotel room, quietly clicking the door closed behind him.
Kendall, with her hair resembling a large bird nest, got to the hospital, the psych ward, a half-hour after she got the call from Jack. She was shivering, cold, even in the warmth of the hospital. Swallowing past the knob of terror in her throat, which threatened to choke her, she forced her shaking legs to take a step at a time toward where Jack and Joe were speaking in quiet terms.
As soon as he spotted her, Jack, ever the gentleman, strode over and offered his arm; her hand, shaking like a leaf, locked down as she focused attention on Joe, who offered her a reassuring smile as he closed the clipboard. "Kendall, this is nothing life or death, so don't worry about that, okay?"
When she jerkily nodded, he indicated the room and she jerked slightly to see Erica through the glass, in perfect clothes and immaculate hair, sitting on the end of a bed, flipping channels and eating fries from a tray on Bianca's lap. The fear lessoned… until she remembered that she was standing in the psych ward. "She looks… she looks fine Joe."
"Well," a moment of hesitation, a tap of fingers across that damned board before he sighed again. "Physically, she is. Mentally, however, well… has she been surprised with anything lately?"
Oh… fuck… Kendall, you drove Mom insane, how could you, you spoiled, ungrateful… "No," she chirped, although she found that the shaking in her limbs was still going on. They didn't have to know yet, right? "No, of course not… not that I know of."
Jack's Kane-sense flicked to life at the glaze of guilt sliding over his soon-to-be step-daughter's gaze, and his eyes narrowed slightly… and Joe saw both, and fervently wished that Mona was around to shake out her daughter and granddaughter… "Well," he stated calmly, putting the board away on the wall by the door, "You can go visit her… just be gentle."
"Um… okay…" She hesitated for a moment before forcing her feet forward… slipping in, she ignores Bianca when the younger woman reached out to touch her arm; rebuffed, the other Kane slipped out, looking devastated. Setting her bag on the chair, she winced at the brilliant smile on her mother's face.
"Mother…" Clearing her throat, feeling a fresh surge of guilt, Kendall eased herself down next to her mother, picking up the smaller hand. "Mother… no, don't talk," she urged, pressing a finger against her mother's lips and stopping her before she could speak.
"I want you to know… this isn't some sick Cambias game, okay? What Zach and I are doing? It's a plan that we've worked out, no more, no less… you don't have to be afraid for me… No, mother, listen to me… As soon as we get what we want, we're going to annul the marriage… It's even in the contract… yes, Mother, the contract…"
Erica smiled, kissed her daughter on the cheek and patted her eldest hand, before leaning back, beaming. Flipping her perfect hair, she opened her mouth and spoke… "Harff jer goll, Nadda, harff jer goll!"
When Diana realized that she recognized the car outside the cabin, she stopped contemplating murder weapons. Feeling a bit wired, she cautiously climbed out of her car, pulling her coat on and heading for the car where Mr. Chandler sat. He didn't jump when she tapped on the window with two knuckles, just reached out and rolled down the windows.
He stared up at her, and the emptiness, nothingness there caused her to flinch physically. Holding the edge of the window, she bent slightly, studying him. God, there was nothing there, not a single flicker of any emotion as he stared at her and she searched for something to say to get that empty out of his gaze.
"What… ahem, what are you doing here, JR?" When he didn't even open his mouth, she reached in to cautiously brush her fingertips across his shoulder. He pulled away slightly and she hesitated before letting out a quiet, "I just came to… say hi."
"Then why aren't you wearing shoes?"
For long moments he stared down at his bare feet, opened his mouth, closed it and finally turned to observe her with a desperate something on his face. He cleared his throat and finally, in a strangely calm voice, commented, "I think I forgot to put them on."
Having to lay in a bed and watch his arch-enemy plan for three goddamn hours had to be one of the worst experiences in Tad Martin's life. Right up there with the cancellation of "Night Court" and the end of the McRib at McDonald's. He laid there, bound and gagged, attempting to burn holes in Adam's skull with his heat vision… as soon as he got heat vision.
Despite his best attempts at untying himself, his tries were in vain as he found that Adam could make one Hell of a knot when he needed to. Finally, his muffled yells made the silver-haired snake turn half-way, looking disgusted, and the older man stood, crossing over to the PI.
"Shut up, you stupid idiot!" Snapping open the drawer, he digs out… oh, shit, Martin… a roll of duct tape, grinning like some devious evil bastard. Tad threw himself to the left furiously, and when he tried to pretty much break the bed to get away, Adam managed to drag the gag from his mouth, despite Tad's repeated attempts to bite his fingers off.
And so it was that Tad martin found himself abandoned in a suite, with two guards… their muscle density higher than they're IQ's… on either side of the bed, mouth covered by several layers of duct tape, plotting the gruesome death of Adam Chandler as the said bastard headed off to destroy his step-son's life.
About an hour after leaving the hospital, and after three hours of listening to what Erica seemed to think was normal language, Kendall had several words written in a notepad and was studying them as she sat in her bath, curls secured up with a few chopsticks, covered up to her chin in pink bubbles.
Her name in Erica-ese seemed to be "Nadda", while Binks went by the name Keeks… Poor Jack was stuck being called "Foofoo" until she got her head back on right, apparently. Reaching up, Kendall poked thoughtfully at her glittery pink gel mask, popping one foot out of the water and letting it dry halfway before slipping it back under the bubbles. She was in quite a pink mood these days.
"Harff jer goll" clearly translated to "I love you" while those words that she's giggled into Jack's ear as she'd dragged him… icky… didn't need to understand those. As it was, Kendall understood full well how Atlas had felt. First and foremost was the simple fact that her marriage had apparently driven her mother insane. Joe insisted that, upon learning of the nuptials, Erica had experienced a kind of mental glitch.
You never should have let her go home alone, Hart… Where had she been before she'd gone to Jack's the night before? He'd woken up to find her speaking happily in her little language and had rushed her to the hospital. Jack's reaction to the marriage had been a bit better… he'd muttered about finding himself a shovel and an empty ditch as he led Erica out to his car by the arm.
Next was the slight worry about, yeah, fine, she'd admit it, she'd been worried about Zach when she'd realize what the shovel and ditch were for. But, being too proud to run to his closing casinos and tell him to watch himself, she'd figured out a way… Edie. The other woman, with laughter in her voice, had assured her over phone that she would protect her boss loyally, even if it meant taking a blow from a shovel.
Then, the over-hanging fear of the "Loophole"… a nagging fear that tinged everything else. She wanted to call up JR, call him home to get his input on how to solve the problem, especially considering who the other part of the loophole was, but… Feeling disgusted, Kendall tossed the notepad into the corner, leaning back in the water and sighing tiredly. When would this all stop for JR? God, a person had his limits, had a point where they had to stop… stop or just break.
Kendall had the horrifying feeling that JR was heading for the "break" path.
Maxie Malone had been taught at a young age to take whatever she could get. Being raised as the daughter of one of the more infamous Vegas showgirls, Caroline Malone, had been tricky. It had been easy enough to follow him to Pine valley, although it had been a bit more difficult to get her hands on a DNA sample, but, hey, that was what useless lesbians for, right?
She was set, and she knew it, and no one could stop her. And, hey, why shouldn't she help out Bianca and go after Chandler? Granted, maybe going after FUSION was a bit cruel, but, hey, she wasn't going to sit around and let that spoiled bitch mock her… not Maxie, never Maxie.
Yet, she found a nagging something over her head now, even as she sat and browsed through HSN… calling up every few minutes. Even buying herself a new laptop—I can always use a third one—didn't push the feeling back and out of her way.
It was when she flipped past "Access Tonight" that she saw the picture. Even behind the huge glasses and with the wind blowing her curls this way and that, Kendall Hart was unmistakable. And so was… Maxie turned the volume up, breath catching in her throat.
"…though our shocking pictures were repeatedly ignored, we have just received a call from Mr. Slater's personal secretary, Edith Harrison, who announces that Mr. Slater has indeed married Kendall Hart, daughter of infamous fashonista, Erica Kane. The two, pictured here, boarding a plane out of Las Vegas, married early on January 8, in a quick Las Vegas ceremony, at one of his casinos, only an hour before it was forcefully shut down…
"This comes only a couple of weeks after the announcement that showgirl Maxine Malone was in fact, his long-lost daughter… and that he was, in fact, the once thought long-dead Alexander Cambias JR. who was believed to have been killed decades ago in a car bomb… All of this press had been doing wonders… until Ms. Malone, upon receiving her share of the Cambias pie, set her sights on his casinos.
"Ms. Harrison, it should be noted, also admits that Mr. and Mrs. Hart-Slater have officially announced that they intend to overturn the will of the late Alexander Cambias, Ms. Malone's own grandfather. We're sure to be entertained when these two sides clash for the Cambias fortune…
"In other news, Asa Buchanan has opened a new wing in the Llanview hospital, dedicating it to his lost son, Clint Buchanan, who was tragically lost in a plane crash just twenty-six years ago. Of course, he left behind his widow, Victoria Lord Davidson and his children, including Lieutenant-governor, Kevin Buchanan, father of the still missing Ace Buchanan, and the search for the boy has hit yet another wall today in light of—"
Clicking off the TV, Maxie stared, blankly, for long moments at the black screen, eyes wide as she struggled to absorb the words. Kendall Hart… no, Kendall Hart-Slater… married… him?
With shaking hands, Maxie reached up, then let her hand limply drop back down and she swallowed forcefully, fighting to stop the overwhelming terror clouding her mind… "officially announced that they intend to overturn the will of the late Alexander Cambias…" Oh, god, oh fuck, oh, no, no, no, no—
With a scream of pure, undiluted rage, a veritable siren of fury, Maxie lunged for the phone, actually panting in her effort to get it off the holder and into her hands… letting herself slid down to the table, she punched in the number, one that always remained, because, hey, she was Caroline Malone's girl, damn it, and she was going to get everything she wanted, damn it!