Sup?
So...been a long time, figured I'd post something...
This might be good, or bad, or wishy washy...I've decided to introduce flashbacks at the start of a new chap...Well, I'm intending on them for like the next two chapters and then all bets are basically off :-) The flashbacks are random, well...not really but then they are, ya know?
Yup, that's what I thought :-)
Posting this now. It might be awful, full of mistakes and missing sentences. You know my MO, I edit after I post, that's how I roll, living dangerously!
Replies to reviews below.
Chapter 16
Three years ago
Washington DC
Lauren's POV
I sit on a bench overlooking the Constitution Garden pond. It's my favorite spot since I moved to Washington. Or well, since I moved here-part-time. I'm still teaching, working at Johns Hopkins, still have my apartment there, but the mirror of the park there isn't as nice as this one. The city isn't as interesting as this one. Not that I factored those elements in when I first moved here. I come here to watch the ducks, feed the ducks. I have several that are my favorite, but always root for the underdogs, the ones that always come last. Usually, I do this in the evening. It's old bread from the local bakery they get, and me talking to them like I talk to my cat. It's lunch time now though, I'm throwing them bread from the sandwich I don't feel like eating. I'm waiting to go into court. Another attempt of Nadia's to steal my livelihood. That makes that court date number 7? Still, I can't focus my morning conversation with Ben echoing in my mind.
"She's dating Dyson again, Ben!" I exclaim as soon as I see my best friend come in. "And that bastard is letting her, that bastard is keeping tight lipped about it, just so he can have her, be around her again!" I rant angrily. "I'm not putting up with it, Ben. I've waited months, I haven't visited, I've stayed away all in the hopes that she would heal, that she'd get back to being herself just a little bit! And now I have to find out that bastard is dating her?"
"Laur, honey..."
"No, Ben!" I shake my head, my head feels heavy in the movement. I know it's from crying, I know I'm still crying. If she's dating, then she's feeling better! If she's better then she deserves to know the truth so she can make an informed decision."
"You know it's not that simple, honey. She knows Dyson, he is familiar to her."
"She'll remember me," I say swallowing away a sob, then anger takes over again. "Do you know we never went on an official date? I never got to date her, Ben. I was supposed to on Sunday!" I yell out. These last couple of months I was able to keep it together, but these days all I do is careen between sad and angry,. I like angry better because it doesn't hurt as much, but the difference is almost negligible.
"Laur, I uhm...I talked to Tamsin..."
I blink momentarily startled, then look up. "You talked to Tamsin?"
"Yeah."
"Why didn't she call me?"
"Because you pulled away, Laur. You cut off ties."
"I, I couldn't stand the updates of 'nothing'," I offer, my heart clenching as I say it.
"I know," Ben says and I see my best friend take a deep breath. "Bo is finally doing better. The physio therapy is going well. She's not as confused as she used to be and she's slowly getting back to work."
"She's going back to work?" I ask incredulously, worry and pride mixing oddly in my heart.
"Mostly paper work. But, Bo's memory issues, her mental state...She still doesn't remember anything. She's latching onto Dyson because she knows him, she trusts him."
"So, just because she trusts him, knows him, I'm just supposed to do nothing?" I scoff my surprise again making way for anger. "Stay away from her? Forget that I love her, that she loves me? Forget that that man that gets to hold her, kiss her, gets to comfort her and be there for her is a man she broke up with and moved on from. He gets to call her love, when I didn't even get a chance to, Ben! I never even got to be her girlfriend!" My tears are streaming down my face now. "How is that fair, Ben? How?"
"Laur, it's not. I know how hard this is, but it's been nine months after she came out of a coma that left her unable to walk, unable to retain short term and long term memories. She may slowly and surely start doing better physically, but she's not there yet."
"I know that," I say angrily through my tears and swallow away my grief and pain as best I can. I know what Ben is telling me is the truth. I know I can't just run up to Bo now and fill in the blanks of the past year. I take a deep breath, and nod my head.
"You're right." I say, and he is, but I still miss her, and everything hurts and I don't know how long I can still go on hoping she'll remember me, and I feel I am slowly reaching my breaking point.
"You should watch it or you won't have any lunch left," a voice next to me says. I turn and look. There's a woman sitting next to me: dark blonde hair, delicate cheekbones, early thirthies kind eyes, nicely dressed, a professional. If I hazard a guess a lawyer or a banker, a warm smile. She's pretty. Beautiful, actually.
"Sorry?"
"The ducks," the woman points at my feet. "They're stealing your sandwich." I look down. There are three ducks circling quacking, reaching upwards for a chance at nipping what's left of my lunch.
"Oh," I jerk my sandwich back. "Wow, I must have zoned out," I offer slightly embarrassed.
The woman offers me a warm smile. "No worries, I come here too, feed the ducks when I need to think or right before a case when I'm nervous. I zone out all the time."
"You're a lawyer?"
"Don't hold it against me," the quick reply and chuckle comes. Another smile, a nice smile, warm smile.
"You just saved my lunch, can't be that bad."
The woman laughs. "I'm Emily," she says and extends her hand.
"Lauren," I offer and shake her hand."Lauren Lewis.", I add not sure why I'm giving my full name to this stranger.
"Lauren Lewis?" Emily's voice raises in question. "As in Dr. Lauren Lewis?"
"Uh, yes," I nod a little taken aback.
"I'm Emily Chapman, Mabel's partner at the firm, and uh from today, co-counsel on your case."
"Oh, wow, that's coincedence," I mumble.
Yes! Oo, now I feel horrible about telling you I come here to soothe my nerves before a case. It has nothing to do with your case, I think it's solid. It's just going into a trial something could always go wrong like having a black-out, or starting to ramble, or-... Emily says this sort of nervous energy driving her words that is quite endearing. She looks up all of a sudden as if tripped up by her own words.
"I uh, I'm making it worse here. I've never actually rambled on in court, or had a black-out, just to be clear."
I grin and smile. "Good to know."
January 31, 9.30 pm
The Pallagio
Emily's POV
Mabel and I grin at one another and share a telling look. We just got done talking to Allison Whitley, CEO and founding member of Whitley Technologies, a Fortune 500 company we've been trying to land as our client for years now. Whitley herself is a formidable woman, a captain of industry I have long admired. In the eighties she started out as an engineer, and slowly worked her way to the top. As a woman trying to make it work in a man's world, I know how tough that is. Straight and to the point she walked in unannounced and uninvited, and basically just handed us a shot at her clientele. If we handle the merger of a company she just acquired in DC, she might and I am quoting here "throw out those incompetent nitwits in my legal department, and let Pierce and Chapman handle my more interesting cases."
"Oh my god!," Mabel exclaims. "Did that just really happen? How the hell did she even get in here without an invite?"
"Is it wrong that I'm a little aroused she managed that?"
"Girl, I'm straight and I'm turned on! Got to love a powerful woman. Holy fuck!"
"She just offered us a job!" I say my mouth falling open.
"Allison Whitley offered us a job!" Mabel repeats her arms thrown in the air. "Oh my god, that is awesome! Holy shit."
"This is...holy shit!" I say still reeling and then a sobering thought creeps up. "This is not going to be easy."
Mabel agrees nodding and I see her sober up at the same thought. "Nope, not by a long shot," she says and she takes a big swig of her drink.
10.33pm
"Excuse me," I say stepping away from the party I've been talking to, and heading towards the restrooms to freshen up. I texted Lauren about an hour ago, and I expect her to walk through the door any minute now. I crane my neck and check the crowd.
No, no Lauren just yet.
I take my phone out of my pocket and text her making some offhand comment of how she'll find me near the or a bar, and that I have good news to tell her.
11.20pm
I frown looking at my watch. Lauren still isn't here and I dive into my clutch again. I check my phone, but there's no text from Lauren. Last text from her was about two hours ago telling me she was up and getting ready. One of the things I love about Lauren is that she's punctual, considerate. When she's running late, she'll text, when she can't make lunch or dinner cause things got hectic at work, she'll let me know and apologize profusely. She also doesn't take hours to get dressed. Lauren looks fabulous in whatever she wears, and can make herself look like a movie star without hardly any effort. A far cry from what I have to do on a daily basis to look half presentable. So why again is she running late? I sigh lightly running a hand through my hair, an uneasy feeling creeping up on me again. There's something different about Lauren lately, and its been there for a few weeks now. Ever since, ever since she told me about this Christmas trip to Holland.
I was ecstatic that she wanted to meet my mom, and I loved the time we got to spend together in Ghent, but there were moments where she withdrew in herself as if she is struggling with something, and I wish she would just tell me. Lauren has always been a little elusive and distant, but more so after this trip, and I wonder if that distance will fade away with time, or if it is just inherently Lauren.
"Lauren's not here yet?" Mabel asks walking up to me. "She was coming tonight, right?"
I nod at Mabel's question. "Her shift ended in the afternoon. Did she text you?" I ask.
"No," Mabel shakes her head. "Don't worry," Mabel adds looking at my frown, and probably knowing what I'm thinking. When I first started having feelings for Lauren, I talked my ear off about her to Mabel. Mabel knows how crazy I am about her, she also knows how insecure I can be about our relationship.
"You know what ERs are like during the holidays. Maybe she fell back asleep? I'm sure she'll be here shortly," I nod at Mabel words. I don't have to take Lauren running late as a sign of the pending apocalyps of my relationship and smile up at my business partner and friend.
"Meanwhile, lets go say hello to Frederick Miller, he just took over his father's brewery and he's looking for new representation," Mabel says putting an arm around my shoulder.
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The Dal
Bo's POV
I blink and briefly wonder if Lauren was real or if she was just a figment of my imagination. I mean, she was here, right? Normal people shouldn't have to ask themselves that question, but my reality does need a double check so I walk up to Manny -who I know from the Dal's softball team- and his wife and ask what Lauren was doing here. They tell me Lauren was passing through, in a hurry to get to the Pallagio. So maybe Lauren was here to say hello to a friend or something? I look around, the bar is packed, and I sigh. That's pretty much a dead end. It could literally be anybody here.
"For the love of..." I mutter in under a minute later. What the hell am I doing? Stalking Lauren? Again? Even though I know she has a girlfriend? And what... I think I'm just gonna suss out her friend here and then what?
This isn't me, I'm not a home wrecker...I'm just...I'm just...It's just Lauren...Lauren she's somehow engraved into my brain, and I can't help it.
My life has been teetering somewhere between drama and shambles these last couple of days, but every moment in between I haven't been able to get Lauren out of my mind. I was a raging idiot blurting out that she felt familiar, but I wasn't lying. That day I spent with Lauren I felt a strong connection, something primal that pulled me to her, and it hasn't let go. And although I can't explain how or why, I feel like that feeling has been anchored inside of me for a very long time.
You see, I've had the reoccuring dreams of a woman for years. I never see her, never see my mystery woman's face, or even hear her voice. Sometimes she just shows up in a random dream I'm having, almost like an extra in a movie, or part of the decor, but I know she's there, I can feel it.
And, yes, I'm sure it's a her. I've had uhm rather uhm explicit dreams... soft, warm and tender lips kissing me; delicate hands that carress me and rounded curves that can only be female. When she kisses me, she lights a fire in me.
I know she's not real, she's a figment of my imagination, she's the representation of an ideal I've conjured up in my mind, yet she's one of the realest things I have ever felt.
She's so real to me, she was partly responsible for my break-up with Dyson. When I would dream about her, I found it increasingly hard to be around him. I found the scratch of his beard too rough, the sound of his voice too low, the feel of his body too hard. All of these things I had previously loved about him. Things Dyson would sometimes do or say, things I would laughed with or away in the past, began to irk me; his jealousy, and need to control things, our relationship, and me was top of that list. I started to really see how different we were, how as a longtime couple we would never work.
Because I never saw my dream woman's face, or heard her voice, I started imagining her as the type of woman I found attractive: blond hair, light eyes, delicate features; someone who was kind, passionate, intelligent, giving. There were moments when I would imagine her as Nicole Kidman, or that woman on Lost, the doctor there.
It was silly, I knew, ridiculous even. I was longing for a woman that didn't exist, except in my dreams, and I was letting it interfere with my relationship. I owed it to Dyson to try harder. I tried to push away what I was feeling, hide it, but I don't know if I succeeded.
Eventually, I had let us go. It wasn't so much the dream woman that was taking Dyson's place, rather the fact that I had let her take that spot in the first place. My heart was open to her I realised, because it wasn't filled with Dyson.
I still dream about my mystery woman. She's there in the shadows mostly like a guardian who watches over me. She even shows up in my nightmares on occasion, and when she does, she grabs my hand and gives me a little bit of reprieve from fear and the monsters that haunt me. When I dream of her now, even though she is still in the shadows, I don't dream of Nicole Kidman or Elizabeth Mitchell, I dream of Dr. Lauren Lewis.
How is that for being certifiable? I've convinced myself that Lauren Lewis is my dream woman. Literally.
I shake my head, and grab my cellphone. I scroll to Evony's text messages, and quickly find what I'm looking for there. A few moments later, the phone is ringing.
"Yes, hello?" I say when a voice picks up on the other end. "My name is Isabeau McCorrigan. I got your name from Dr. Marquise. I'm sorry to call you at this hour, and today, I'm uhm sure you have a family to be with, but I just think that if I don't make this appointment with you now, I might never make one."
I nod listening to the voice on the other end of the line and nod a couple of times before I say "Thursday 2pm, got it. Thank you, Dr. Matthews.", and end the call.
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Lauren's POV
10.30pm
It's late when the cab pulls up to the Pallagio. I had clearly underestimated the time it would take me to get from the Dal to here. It's usually a 35 minute trip, but on New Year, when the streets and cabs are jampacked with people just like me trying to get to their destination before midnight, it takes a good hour. I suppose I was lucky catching a cab at all.
I tip the cabby royally, and straighten out my dress as I get out of the car. I pull out the little mirror from my clutch and check my make-up once more. The puffiness around my eyes is gone, my hand is no longer glowing, I test smile at my reflection.
Good enough.
Up a few steps and I'm quickly let in by the usher at the door. One look at my fancy invitation, and I get an escort to the most luxurious room in this grand house, and the most exclusive party in town. I enter via the grand double marble stairway. The classy wealth of the Georgian period unfurling in front of me: magnificent white and gold ornated columns stretched across a room almost the size of a football field, and in the back, leading into the lush garden, large floor to ceiling arched windows. This already resplinded Orangery is now even more stunning decorated in Christmas reds, golds and greens, yet its glory is mostly lost on me as I set foot on the black and white checkered marble flooring, and carve my way through the yuppy crowd The Pallagio is entertaining tonight.
I head straight for the bar and order a gin and tonic there. I order another one gesturing as I finish the first one. The alcohol helps to calm those last bits of adrenaline that are still running through me, and I order one more, just in case. Three gin and tonics, and I finally look around the room. It doesn't take long to spot her. Like she texted Emily is near a bar, the central one, and she's chatting to an older gentleman with wavy shoulder length brown hair, and beard. I recognize him, it's her old boss Lionel Glover, a rather unscrupulous man who worked her to the bone when she was under his employment.
I suppose it's time to rescue her then. I can do this, I tell myself. I can give Emily a fun night like she deserves. I take a deep breath, put a smile on my face and walk up to her.
"Hey there, I hear you've been looking for me?" I ask with a grin.
"Lauren," Emily says smiling brightly. She steps into me and pulls me in, kisses my lips softly. "You almost had me thinking you were standing me up for the night,"
"Sorry, I'm late," I say. "Traffic is a nightmare on New Year's eve," I say omitting my side trip to the Dal. "Who knew?"
Emily shakes her head at me and takes my hand in hers. "No worries, I'm just glad you're here, beautiful. You must be exhausted," she says now scrutinizing, and surely seeing the telltale signs of fatigue, maybe even distress I've tried to conceal.
"How was your shift?"
"Exhausting, but nothing I couldn't handle," I say glad I have my shift as an excuse to hide behind. Emily's scrutinizing worried look fades, and a small smile appears. Happy she's accepted my explanation, I use a smile of my own.
"How's the night going, seems like the party is really kicking off." I look around taking in the buzz of the room. More and more people moving towards the dance floor: chatting, laughing, drinking. "What's this big news you wanted to tell me?"
"Oh!," Emily exclaims enthusiastically. "Just that Pierce and Chapman landed a client we have been trying to get for years!", Emily says flipping her hair in a mock 'I'm so hot' gesture. "And drumroll...it's Whitley Technologies! Allison Whitley herself showed up wanting us to handle a merger!"
"That's big!"
"It's awesome!" Emily grins, she's practically gushing with joy. "It'll be a lot of work, but Mabs and I don't care, we've been celebrating all night! Well,... and having the mandatory dreadfully boring lawyer talk."
"Need my help?" I say forcing another smile. I have a well-known name. Most people in this room know who I am, what people generally don't know is that I also have a background in law. Emily gets a kick out of me being able to keep up with the lawyer speak when most guests here don't expect it.
"Of course, but how about a dance first?"
"How about a drink and then a dance?"
Emily eyes me and then smiles wide. "It's a deal."
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The Dal
Close to midnight.
Bo's POV
I push through the back door of the club that exits in a deserted street and take a deep breath, grateful for the cool air that greets me; Damn, it's hot inside with bodies gliding, hot breaths mingling. My clothes are clinging to my body, sticky from sweat. I take a few sips of my none alcoholic beer instantly regretting it.
Pisswater.
I'm used to not drinking. When I'm not on holiday, I live the life of a top atlethe, what I take into my body is carefully weighed out and balanced, but this sad excuse for a beer is just an irritating reminder of why I'm not drinking. I could probably drink this if I were drunk, just not stone cold sober. There's irony in that observation, I realize chuckling to myself.
I take another deep breath, another sip enjoying the cool night air. It's close to midnight. Just a few moments longer and then I'll go find my friends, hug the stuffing out of them, tell them how grateful I am for having them in my life. Sappy, I know, but hey, I'm a sappy girl. They've all been pretty busy tonight: Kenz with that guy Hale -mental note to check his credentials later-, Vex with that goth SM guy Randy he calls up every New Year. Evony found herself a couple and a few bottles of very expensive Champagne, and Dyson and Ciara have each other. Last time I saw them they were all over one another sucking face. Eyeroll! And Tamsin...well...I honestly don't know who she's hooking up with, but I did catch her in the Dal's bathroom earlier on in a state of dishevelment I wish I could unsee. So yeah, ...that happened.
Not that I should be surprised, Tam's antics on New Year's eve are legendary. One New Year's eve Tamsin stole a lawnmower and drove it straight into the local Police station because she wanted to visit the woman she was dating at the time: Lisa Fontenelli, detective on call. To her credit, Tamsin surgically bust through just the one window, managed to somehow swerve and avoid all of the police desks in that cramped space, although I do believe one garbage bin, and one computer screen didn't make it, and then proceeded to give chase in what must have been the slowest police chase in recorded history circling Lisa's desk.
Tam paid for the window and the computer screen. Dyson and Kenzi and I pulled the lawn mower with Dyson's truck and then dropped it off on the corner of the street where Tam had first 'borrowed' it. It was still in pretty good nick, so yeah, no harm no foul. The police officers on duty were all good friends, so they turned a blind eye, and the official version of the story became Tamsin had accidentally ran through the window with her little scooter. Lisa and Tamsin still see each other once in a while, hook up. Come to think of it, that might actually have been Lisa I saw earlier on when I ran out the bathroom horrified.
Anyways, all of this to say that perhaps my sobriety tonight isn't such a bad thing. With Tam around someone has to be the responsible adult, and it's not like my sobriety has prevented me from having a good time tonight. I've almost literally thrown myself in the crowd of hot dance partners: cutting loose, having fun. Sure, there were the occasional grabby hands, but what's new, and it's nothing I can't handle. Trick, the owner, is like a surrogate grandfather to me. Me and my friends have been coming to this pub for so long, that I think we've become part of the furniture. I'm safe here at the Dal. We all know the bouncers well: Bruce, Mike, George and Angie are friends; they know their crowd, know when to step in if needed, and even keep the nosey reporters out.
Still, no matter how distracted I've kept myself, I haven't been able to get Lauren out of my mind. I swear that woman has somehow bewitched me. there's a pull there, a familiarity almost, a draw I don't understand. Even when she dismissed me there was something in her eyes. It's been plagueing me all night. I still see the images so clearly in my mind.
You can call me crazy. At this point, I'm not even taking it personally, but I think she knew I was there. When she was heading for the door, and I was cutting my way through the crowd, she halted. She halted and I hadn't called out, or certainly not loudly enough for her to hear, yet she did. I see it crystal clear in my thoughts: that fluid stride interrupted, those beautiful delicate shoulders of hers just slightly bent, the tension there. And then that first glance, flicker of her eyes:vulnerable, telling, caring. It was gone as quickly as it was there, but it feels like something I need to analyze, get to the bottom off, peel the layers off of. I can't get it out of my mind, just like I can't get that stupid country song that was playing out of my mind.
Anyway.
I glance at my watch. I'm about to go back inside when the backdoor to the Dal opens making me turn around.
"There you are, gorgeous," a female voice slurs. I don't have time to react when this woman is suddenly pressed up against me. Her hands cup my face, her lips press against mine; the waft and taste of alcohol permeates my senses. In the background, there are a few flashes and weird clicking noises.
"Get off!" I grumble and shove the woman off of me. It's not a hard shove, but the woman is so drunk that she stumbles back dangerously. I'm quick to respond, catching her before she falls and hits her head or something.
"And...you've passed out?" I mumble looking down at the now unconscious woman dangling in my arms deadweighting me. "Of course you have."
I struggle maneuvering her to an overturned empty crate setting her down. I lower myself to the woman's eye-level, she is unresponsive, so I tilt her head up. "Hey, hey, you okay?" Her eyes slowly drift open, and after a few attempts finally focus long enough on me. She smiles brightly.
"You are so hot!" she slurs grinning, and puts her arms around my neck again. "Take me home," she whispers over my ear.
"Oh boy, let me get you some water," I say diplomatically folding the woman's arms back in her own lap as I disentangle myself again. As I stand up there I see a shadow to my right, I turn and a man with a camera grins wide at me as he snaps another few pictures, the flash so bright it blinds me.
"Thanks for the pictures Miss McCorrigan," he shouts out, and before I can do anything he sprints away.
"Damnit!" I exclaim. In the background I hear the music fall silent inside the Dal and the mass of people starting the countdown from ten.
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The Pallagio
Lauren's POV
The countdown sounds in the background. Emily has one arm wrapped around me, the other hand holding her Champagne glass and she is widely grinning, laughing as she counts down with the rest of the crowd around her. When the countdown hits zero her lips are on me, and I close my eyes. Alcohol is now freely flowing through my system lowering my inhibitions. I like how Emily feels pressed up close: those curvy hips, the scent of her perfume, those full breasts she keeps reigned in under her business suits, her tongue that slips into my mouth. I moan and press closer.
Happy New year chants and confetti is still flying round the room when Emily pulls back. I let go reluctantly. If I had my way, we would leave now, and I'd spend the rest of the night fucking her. But, even my muddied brain realizes Emily can't leave here just yet. I'll have to bide my time.
"Happy New Year," Emily mutters. In the background fireworks are being set off. It's quite the spectacle. Emily is quickly engrossed by it, squeezing my hand in excitement as she watches. I empty my champagne glass, and just like that Bo flashes through my mind. I can see her smile at me all those years ago in Hawaii when we were kissing into New Year, and didn't even notice the countdown, or the fireworks.
A tear falls, I brush it away quickly. Everyone is still engrossed by the firework show, but I have no patience or attention for it. More than anything now, I want to get out of here, but take Emily's glass and my own and focus on getting us refills instead.
Three hours later
My hands are all over Emily sliding under her skirt, tracing the skin there as we kiss and moan. Her mouth is hot, her tongue probing. We're giving the cabby a show, but I don't care. The city rushes by in a haze of color. I can feel my heart pound; I can feel my hand glow, I can feel it sliding under Emily's skirt. The alcohol in my system has made me bold and unruly, my body is in overdrive while my head is swimming. I can see the surprised look in Bo's eyes as lifeless as Grace. I tighten my grip, I nibble on Emily's earlobe, tell her how much I want her. I can feel the weight of another year that has passed: another year without my father, another year without Eve. A year where Macy Henderson doesn't have a fiancee. I can see blood under my hands, I can smell it again.
I can feel a tear. Is that mine? Am I imagining things?
I fall back into Emily's kiss, in her arms, and her embrace. I tell her I want to rip her clothes off, I want to taste her, fuck her. I can see Bo smile at me. My hand creeps further under Emily's dress. The eyes of Grace Ramirez flash. Bo's smile falls, the life in her eyes dims out.
Emily nips at my skin, the heart monitor flatlines. I can see Bo smile at me. The one she would give me right before kissing. My heart races. I didn't drink enough. I drank too much? Emily's perfume wafts up my nose: Reine de Nuit. I moan, my fingers are brushing Emily's breast over the fabric of her dress: full and curved like I love them. I'm in need of release. Where she ends and Bo begins I don't know.
We pull up to Emily's apartment. I follow her upstairs, my hands roaming her body like they have been all night. I'm horny, aching for release. I pin her against the door, she giggles trying to get the door unlocked, mumbles something about the neighbors seeing us or hearing us. Emily's neighbors have pretty much the same demographic profile she does: young, driven, successful. I highly doubt they'd be bothered by a bit of necking in the hallway, doubt they'd be sober enough to care, but whatever. Emily is prim and proper, like I once was, but I lack the conviction to hold onto morals like those now, or maybe I'm just too drunk. I relent long enough for Emily to open up the door, and then close it behind us. I can hear her keys jingle as she places them in their regular spot, just next to the coatrack.
"Drink?" she asks as she brushes past me.
"Only if we take it to bed," I say reaching for Emily's wrist, pulling her back into me, my lips finding hers. "I want to fuck you, Emily."
Emily moans and for minutes on end we're lost in a feverish kiss before it slows. "Just one drink, Lauren," Emily says, her eyes have a pleading shade to them and I nod. Emily goes straight for the cupboards of her large open kitchen and pulls out two glasses. I follow her in. With how much alcohol is in my system, I'm still surprisingly coherent, surprisingly in control of my balance but then I've always been good at looking composed, even when drunk. I slide into Emily's leather Chesterfield sofa my eye falling on the familiar surroundings of this room: spacious and decorated with expensive furniture like the crystal decanter her father bought her with equally expensive gin. Emily rounds the couch. Two glasses are quickly filled, and she takes a seat next to me.
"You smell good," I say leaning into Emily and softly kissing her neck. I can hear Emily's breath hitch, my finger slides to her chin, pulling her lips unto mine. "I'm so wet," I husk. I can taste the gin on her lips, I deepen the kiss, but Emily pulls away.
"Lauren, hold on," she says, "I wanted to talk to you,"
"Talking is overrated, we can talk in the morning," I smile replying and press into Emily again.
"Lauren, stop!" Emily says louder, and I back off frowning at the firmness in her voice. Emily is up on her feet.
"Okay," I offer.
"Are you alright, Lauren?" Emily asks turning toward me. "You've been acting strange all night."
"Strange?" I ask lifting a brow.
"You were late, and I don't think I've ever seen you drink so much, and then in the cab, the things you did and said,"
"Well, I didn't hear you protest," I remark instantly irked.
"No, of course not, it's jus-"
"And am I not allowed to drink? It is New Years' eve, Emily. I think you'll find statistically that a lot of people get drunk on New Year," I say sharply.
"Don't do that, Lauren." Emily says. "Don't be condescending,"
I take a deep breath, and nod my head. "You're right, I apologize" I say exhaling. "I shouldn't have come up," I say even more annoyed. All I wanted was to take Emily to bed. Sure, I may have been a little handsy, and yeah I'm pretty sure my blood alcohol level is about twice the legal limit, but so was she, and she's buzzed too. So seriously, I don't see the problem there. "I think it's better that I go. I'll call a cab."
"Lauren, I don't want you to go." I grit my teeth, there's a sad tone, almost pleading in Emily's voice that keeps me seated. "I just don't understand what's going on with you. You've been acting strange ever since you went to Holland. You're running hot and cold. One moment you're more distant than ever, the next you're throwing yourself at me, and I don't understand it, Lauren," Emily says her eyes filling with tears. "It feels like I'm losing you."
"Emily-," I say exhaling, shaking my head lightly.
"Just open up to me," Emily says almost pleadingly. "What's going on with you? What happened at the Efteling?"
"Emily, I don't-" I inhale deeply trying to calm myself. I don't want to think or talk about the Efteling or today, about Bo and my complicated history with her. Especially not with how much alcohol is already running through me. I might say something, unguarded.
"I really don't want to talk about this, Emily."
"You never do. I ask and you run, dodge or deflect. Just be honest, Lauren. Was-was it Evony?" Emily asks biting her lip. "Di-did something happen between the both of you?"
I want to laugh, I really do. Evony was a two-night-stand thing in college. It's a lifetime ago, and she was a mistake even back then. I have absolutely no interest in Evony that way, and sometimes I get fed up with Emily's insecurity involving cheating. Emily's first serious girlfriend, a woman she met in college had slept around on her, cheated on her in the worst of ways. Emily never recovered from that. To this day it is as if she's waiting for someone else to hurt her again.
Yet, Nadia cheated on me left, right and center, and I don't jump to the conclusion Emily is cheating on me every time I don't hear from her for a few days. Also, I know what it means to feel betrayed, to feel like you meant nothing to the person you loved, and Emily knows that. She knows all about my relationship with Nadia, so how can she seriously entertain the thought that I would cheat on her?
"No, of course not," I say a lot calmer than I feel, shaking my head. "There's nothing between us, I wouldn't do that."
"Then what happened, Lauren? And please don't tell me I'm imagining things, please don't. You're different. You've always been a work-aholic, always been a little distant, but now..I mean...When you said you wanted to meet my mom I was so happy. I thought you were finally opening up to me, giving our relationship a chance, but it's worse than before. And tonight when you were dancing with me, and all night it was like you weren't even there, like you were just off in your head," Emily looks up at me, and swallows. "You were crying, Lauren...during the fireworks, and...I hate it when you cry."
Damnit, I think. Seeing Emily's tears makes my anger and annoyance fizz out. I don't want to hurt Emily. I can't stand it when she cries either. I take a deep breath, and weigh my words.
"Emily, it's not something I expect you to fix, or even something that can be fixed."
"But why aren't you even telling me what it is? Why can't you open up?"
I grit my teeth. "I need a drink," I mumble, and go for the expensive gin in the crystal decanter. Pour myself a royal portion, and make a mental note to buy Emily a replacement bottle. Mental notes help, help keep me grounded. I go over research in my head, or facts: like recalling the Georgian interior of The Pallagio in minute detail, or remembering that gin is in origin a Dutch drink, derived from the word 'jenever'. The gin in the decanter is a Nolet Dry Gin, 700 dollars a bottle, it's made with the most expensive spice in the world saffron to achieve its distinct flavor. My brain is an ever churning machine, only misled or redirected by other facts. Possibly by alcohol, sex.
"Lauren," Emily urges, and I nod.
I know, I know.
I know I need to open up to Emily, she deserves it. I can't lie to her. Even drunk I am aware she deserves the truth. I breathe deeply as I take the proverbial corner in my mind, my bigger lie coming into view: I never told Emily about Bo, not really, or how what happened to Bo, happened to me.
"I uh...I went to the Dal tonight," I say. "Before I came to the Pallagio. I went to check up on Bo, that's why I was late."
"Bo?" Emily asks surprised, and I nod.
"Tamsin called, Bo blacked out the night we went to your mom's, and I wanted to check up on her, make sure she was alright. She and I, well, we have history together, and I-"
"Your Bo, she has long black hair and a beautiful dimpled smile, doesn't she?" Emily asks and I blink confused not understanding how Emily would know that.
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"I found a picture of you, Ben, Tamsin and this beautiful woman I didn't recognise in one of your kitchen drawers one night. You were at a ressort of sorts?" Emily asks, and I nod silently. The picture she is talking about was taken in Hawaii. It had featured prominently in my living room at one time.
"I was looking for a cork screw, and there it was face down. I turned it around. I was curious. Who puts a picture in a kitchen drawer like that? It was a little faded, but I saw you, your smile was clear the way you were looking at her..." Emily's voice trails off. "I-I kept hoping one day you'd look at me like that. But you never did."
"Emily, I-"
"I thought then that that might be Bo," Emily says taking a deep breath. "But I sort of dismissed it. I mean the way you described your relationship with her to me, like it had just only been a brief thing. It wasn't, was it?"
I swallow hard at Emily's words shaking my head in confirmation. What Bo and I had had, was brief, but she had never been just a fling to me. I lied to Emily about Bo, denied Bo. Bo was Bo. A one time thing, the best memories I have and the worst.
"I'm not good at sharing my feelings," I mutter.
"I think you are. Just not with me."
"Don't say that," I say shaking my head, my heart breaking at the sadness of that statement.
"It's true. There's this part of you I can't reach, Lauren. A part of your heart and your trust I can never have." Emily swallows and I want to say something, comfort her, deny what she's telling me, but she's right, or at least she is in part.
"I think that's why I'm always so insecure about us. I kept telling myself it was just you, you know? Just your way of being, but I'm starting to think it's this Bo. She has that part of you. You were in love with her, are in love with her,..."Emily's voice trails off, I want to shake my head at her, but she blurts out before I can protest. "Oh my god, and to think I was worried about Evony!"
"Emily, this isn't about Bo!" I say fiercely, maybe a tad harshly. "Not that way," I say lowering my tone of voice again. "I mean,-I'm not having an affair with her, I'm not, I'm not cheating on you."
"You're not?" Emily asks surprised. "Then why didn't you just tell me about her? Why did you lie?"
It would be easy to explain why I lied, wouldn't it? How I couldn't? Why I am so closed off? How whenever I tried to talk about Bo, I just couldn't? I still can't, not all of it anyway. I could explain how normal conversation, and pretending what had happened to Bo and me, hadn't happened, that that was the only way I could deal with it. Three years ago, Emily was a haven. She was the one good thing I could cling to when I was trying to block everything else out, and not telling her was my redemption, my way to feel normal, not always falling apart.
And if I confess to Emily, she'll forgive me, because that's the kind of person she is. She'll understand, but I don't want a get out of jail ticket. I don't want to be let off the hook easily. I know I don't deserve it.
"I thought what we had was real," Emily says filling the silence that is too long for her." I thought you could confide in me."
"I can," I say.
"Then why didn't you? "
There's a duality inside of me that I don't know if I share with others, an ugly side or maybe a basic belief, a feeling deep in my soul I cannot chase away. I am alone. I am my own person. I came into this world alone, and I will leave it alone, and that has me convinced I must live it alone, as well. There are things I don't share, hurts I feel I must carry alone. In part because I feel they are mine to bear, in part because I cherish them, because I cherish my independence, I cherish that last bit that is just me and no one else. I've never felt a need to share that with anyone. I've never felt the need to share my soul and everything that I am with anyone, except...
"It's complicated," I say. It's not, but it is in a way.
"It's not, Lauren. Your head is just making it complicated." I look up at Emily. Sometimes, I forget she knows me better than I think she does.
"I couldn't," I say opting for the truth even though I told myself I wouldn't go for sympathy. "I loved Bo very much at one time."
"What happened between you two, Lauren?" Emily presses again, but my jaw is locked in place, my head is spinning to four years ago to a room I never wanted to walk into, but seemingly am trapped in. I don't answer. My entire body is starting to shake again.
Grace Ramirez' dead eyes, Bo's dead eyes. Bo's blood.
"Please tell me, because damnit I don't understand why you are still so torn up about a relationship from four years ago. What could have been so bad? I mean you told me about Nadia. How much worse could it have been?" Emily's voice sounds in the background, but I'm pulled into the past.
Four years ago
Grey curtains pulled, orange walls, blue bedsheets, all colored red. Blood everywhere. Two chairs in the middle, two bodies tied and slumped over.
"The blonde is gone," a voice says. "Jeezes, the blood is still dripping from her."
I only have eyes for Bo, fall to my knees in a pool of blood next to the one person I want more than life to save. People walk in and out the room, I'm yelling at people to help, meticulously stopping the bleeds wherever I can with whatever I have, strips of bloodied bedsheets mostly.
"What a sick fuck," someone says. "Get photos of all of it." Cameras flash again. EMT's rush in. I bark orders, I'm not questioned. I've done all I can. The gurney is brought in. Other hands lift Bo onto it while I lift my head. I see Eve. No one has bothered to untie her, lift her out of the chair. I want to yell at the people around me, yell at them to show her dignity, some fucking humanity even though I know they can't move the body, that she's evidence. My eyes fill with tears instead. I mouth how sorry I am: that I didn't get here faster, that I didn't put the pieces of the puzzle together faster.
"Go," the EMT's say, and I look back. Bo is in the gurney, they're moving her out. I get up too. My eyes finally register the far wall and the message that's written there in blood, and I swallow hard.
"You told me about her. Why would you lie about Bo then for years?" Emily's voice rises in anger because I'm still not answering. Her words are rushing in, hammering on my head as if they are a sledgehammer pounding time and time again. As if they were Stacy's words, Stacy's sledge hammer pounding time and time again. "Did she cheat on you, did you cheat on her? Did she leave you at the altar?" Emily is close to yelling now.
I shake my head, and finally speak; surprisingly myself that sound comes out. "No, she nearly died."
Emily's brows furrow.
"Bo's full name is Isabeau McCorrigan-"
"Wait, Isabeau McCorrigan as in Senator Dennis' daughter, the decorated war hero?" Emily asks her tone full of surprise. "As in the daughter of the man who will most likely be our next president?"
"Yes."
"Holy crap, well you sure know how to pick em!"Emily blurts before she can stop herself.
"Four years ago, she was attacked,"
"You're talking about the attack at the hotel?" Emily asks. Her voice is softer now, filled with surprise as she goes to sit down in the chesterfield across from me. I forget sometimes that Bo's story is famous, that every tabloid in the country and beyond had crime scene photos of the hotel sprawled out center stage like a photo shoot because some rookie asshole at the police force wanted to get in the media's good graces and earn a quick buck. Though the quality news channels never showed the photos, a story as juicy as that of the long lost Senator's daughter who had been viciously attacked, was just too good to pass up. Still, there were details and cruelties the papers never knew about.
"I uh," I say tears welling up without permission. "I found her that night."
"Oh God, Lauren!" Emily gasps.
"The blood," I say shaking my head. "I mean, I'm used to seeing blood, but her blood," I swallow back tears, press my eyes closed. I don't want sympathy, I don't want the pity, but I've never talked about this, never formed words around the images in my mind.
"The things that woman did to her, what she did to Eve," I say as I try to control my voice again, try not to be sick as the images run back at me of how Eve's chest had been used as a cutting board for Stacy's knife. Not everything Stacy did to Bo and Eve made the press, and I don't want to burden Emily with the details, and honestly the details still make me sick, so I am purposely vague. "I didn't think people were capable of such cruelty."
"Lauren, I am so sorry," Emily says, and I feel her arms around me. She must have moved without me noticing.
"I should have told you about Bo back then, but I couldn't," I say pulling back out of Emily's embrace, and already wiping at the stray tears that have fallen. "Today, I had a woman in the ER die under my hands. Sh-she reminded me so much of Bo, " I say. "The dark hair, the eyes, the girlfriend, the gun shots to the heart and the head, and then Tamsin called, and I-I had to go and check on her, see if she was alright."
"I understand," Emily says cupping my face, getting me to look at her.
"Yo-you do?"
"Yes, honey," Emily nods letting her fingers run through my hair in a soothing fashion. "I think I understand you better today than I ever have. I am glad you told me," Emily says smiling kindly at me. "I understand why you didn't tell me," she says reassuringly. "But I want you to be honest with me one more time. I have one more question, and whatever you answer me, know that I won't hold it against you, that I won't just leave, that I won't stop being your friend and that I am here for you. Understand?"
I nod looking into Emily's eyes.
"One day," Emily says taking a deep breath. "One day, I want a home, a wife, I want children. And Lauren, I want those things with you. Can you give me that?"
Tears fill my eyes, I want to say yes because Emily is all that is good and safe and warm.
I close my eyes, shake my head.
Emily deserves the truth.
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Two days later
Dr. Matthews' office
Bo's POV
Dr. Matthews' office is in a brownstone only about ten minutes from my flat. I jog towards it, admiring the brownstone building on the outside for just a few moments before I go inside. The inside is just as gorgeous: wide open spaces, high ceilings, beautiful wooden staircase, woodpanelling. It's the sort of house I once saw myself buying, starting a family, a historic home with a yard. There's a reception downstairs, a male voice behind the desk asks me if I have an appointment. He doesn't look up, instead he's staring at his computer screen while I stare at his full head of curly hair. I tell him my name, and dark brown eyes hiding behind glasses suddenly look up doing a double-take, checking if my name matches with the face he's seen in the paper that's laying right beside him...on the page of my less than stellar New Year encounter no less.
Great.
"Hi," I grin.
"Miss McCorrigan, pl-please take a seat in the waiting room, "he says a little flustered. "Dr. Matthews is still with another patient, but uh, I'll be bringing you a questionnaire to fill in. Just basic information, so-so that we have your information on file. Dr. Matthews won't be long."
"Sure," I reply with a smile, and go to find a seat in the waiting room. True to his promise, the kid dashes in with papers a couple of minutes later. I look at the form and start filling it in. After name, age, address, the questions start. Have I ever received psychiatric care before? 'No', I lie. Whatever, those records are sealed, it's not like they are going to call me out on it. "Are you currently taking any strong medication?" Is what Evony prescribed me strong? How in hell should I know? I'm not a doctor! "Have you ever had suicidal tendencies?" Seriously! Seriously? You call that basic info?! "No!" I violently color the No dot and scribble "only homicidal", and then add a smiley face. Hah! The rest of the questions are pretty straightforward.
The kid comes back in the room, he tells me Dr. Matthews is ready to see me. I hand him back his questionnaire, half glaring at him for those ridiculous questions.
"Basic info, huh?" I question and the kid flusters again reminding me of a squiggly Seth Rogen. He stumbles out some awkward explanation about the records being confidential, and leads me to a room to the back of the house.
I step inside an empty room. Well, empty, it's not empty, there are things there, just no Dr. Matthews. I close the door behind me and look around. It's a typical shrink shack: a couch to the side, a plant, a fern I think though I was never great at recognizing plants so it might as well be Ivy or an Orchid. Hey, look, it has leaves and it's green. A beautiful wooden desk, mahogany, leather chair and bookcase behind the desk: earthly tones on the wall: nothing as provocative as say the color red cause who knows what that might do to the crazies that walk in here, and then of course the degrees: prominently displayed: center stage: Yale, John Hopkins.
Great, well, he's got an education going for him, too bad those fancy degrees never taught him to be on time. I smile at my own joke.
The door opens, and in walks who I presume is Dr. Matthews, a wispy figure, like his assistant, dressed in dark pants, blue, form fitting sweater. He sits down across from me looking at a bunch of papers clipped under his clipboard, papers I assume are the form I filled out in the waiting room. Oh goodie! I see him scan them, crane my neck waiting for him to find my little scribble and smiley face. There's a flicker of a smile there. Not sure that was at my scribble or cause maybe that kid added his own observations on there.
Light green or blueish eyes, shortish brown hair, he should grow a beard cause he looks about 24. A kid himself. I suppose that's why he's working the Holidays? No family to go to. Not that I mind young people. My job shuffles a new load of kids in every other six months: they're gung-ho, ready to jump in, try anything. But, yeah, are those the qualities I want in my shrink?
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting,...Bo" he says my name only after a long pause finally finding my name on the notes he's looking at. He can read. That's good, seems sort of like a prerequisite for a shrink. I thought Evony had called this guy up, briefed him about me, and now he doesn't even know my first name? I'm tempted to go for my phone, pretend to be fishing out the mail his secretary sent me while I'm really scrolling to Kenz facebook page to check out her newest whig, and then do that whole "Oh yeah, don't know your name" pause thing right back at him.
Instead I say "Not at all, Dr. Matthews," crisply and quickly, just like good ole Uncle Sam taught me.
"I see you were in the military for a long time," Dr. Matthews says, I smile placatingly. Another thing he got from the all-telling clipboard. By now, curtesy of my father, I'm a well-known face, well-known name. I'm sure Dr. Matthews knows very well who I am, and why I'm here, so this whole psych foreplay really is unnecessary.
"Those quick responses, that arrow straight posture, dead give away," Dr. Matthews offers in explanation. Well, the guy is observant, I'll give him that.
"Of course, I know who you are, Bo. Dr. Marquise has briefed me of your situation, and I know she has already prescribed you a mild sedative, but I would like it very much if you could tell me a little bit about yourself."
"Well, I don't like shrinks," I say before I can stop myself.
"That's not the first time I've heard that," Tom Matthews chuckles, and he looks up at me smiling. The smile is almost a smirk, a little cocky. I like that. Maybe I can work with that. I decide to stick it out for just a little while longer. According to Evony this is after all "a vital component in my treatment", and I am paying good money for this little tête à tête.
"I'm the girl with the hole in her history, and the blackouts to prove it," I offer.
"Is that how you see yourself?" Dr. Matthews asks, and I only just manage not to roll my eyes. Say something about yourself and shrinks automatically assume you are telling them something about your own sense of selfworth. I don't have a problem with selfworth. I don't see myself as a victim, or just the girl with the fucked up memory. I am who I am: Bo, friend, pilot, partner, or ex-partner, whatever...joker, daredevil, loyal, gutsy, defensive, vulnerable,...I am all of these things. Some more than others. Others more than some depending on the day or the year. Right now, however, I am pretty much off my rocker. All joking aside, right now I am the girl with the memory loss, and the nightmares.
"I am stating fact, doc," I say offering up the smile I can manage.
"Let me rephrase: what would you like to gain from these sessions?"
A practical question, hurray! "I'd like to get back to my cockpit, doc. I've got about three weeks left, so I'm kinda on the clock here."
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January 2
Lauren's POV
I'm keeping a good pace, I feel my feet touch the ground, the soul burying itself in the muddy ground just an inch or so. The morning air is cold, but refreshing as my body temperature is raised. The light is dimmed, streets lamps still softly lit. I've just passed the reflection's pool, take a turn to lap the Constitution Gardens Pond and am joined by tens of other morning joggers. I say hello to Dana, a woman I first met almost six months ago jogging at this hour. We have a about the same jog pace. We talk for a few, like we always do. Sometimes, work schedules permitting, we go for a coffee afterwards. She's got two kids: Jake, age 5 and Jill, age 7, we chat about them. I talk about work a little, about going abroad for the holidays, New Year. I gloss over what happened with Emily.
"I'll race you across the finish line," she says after a little while, and I nod with a grin. We push ourselves. We've done a few runs together, obstackle runs, and we're going to run a marathon soon. The thing I like about running is that my brain cuts out, just a little. I can't get lost in my own reflections, or regrets. Instead I can focus on my breathing, getting enough oxygen in, controlling my pace, feeling my muscles burn. Running clears my thoughts, makes them clear instead of an entangled mess. Somewhere in that mile I'm running against Dana, I realize that I should have ended my relationship with Emily a while ago, that I shouldn't have even started it.
"Oh my god!" Dana says breathing hard, trying to catch her breath after we cross our finish line. "Great run, you got me!"
"You'll get me next time," I say equally out of breath, staggering off to the bench, crashing there. I really did push myself. "I-I suppose that means I'm buying?" I grin.
"A quick one," Dana smiles. "I've got to rescue Chris from my mother and the onslaught of our offspring."
I laugh lightly. Walking briskly we head towards one of the coffee vendors in the park.
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Washington DC
The Capitol building
Jack's POV
"Senator Dennis, I have your daughter on the phone," Hall White, my young aid tells me as soon as I walk into the lobby of my office. "Thank you, Hall," I say and turn towards Ant Willard, CEO of Hailey Tech, a global communications company that amongst others, builds our satelites. Ant Willard: grey long curly hair burried underneath a stetson, cowboy boots, and big cowboy belt, is originally from Texas. He's a card carrying member of the NRA, checks his gun in every time he enters the capitol building, says he believes in God, the constitution, straight talking, straight shooters, and family of course. He's every bit what you would think of him at first sight. He's one of my biggest campaign contributors, a good ally to have, so I listen to his grievances, get a bill turned his way on occasion, and make sure I remain in good standing with him, keep up a sense of comradery.
"Excuse me, Ant," I say. "I've got to take this call. Would you mind waiting just a minute?"
"Of course not, Jack. Family comes first. Especially that gal of yours, a stunner and an American hero to boot, just like her daddy."
"Unfortunately, I can't take credit for her looks, that was all her mommah," I grin back widely laying my native southern accent on thick. Ant laughs out loud while I turn to Hall.
"Hall, make sure you supply Mr Willard with whatever wets his whistle." Hall nods, and I turn back to the distinguished gentlemen of my state.
"I believe that would be a Bourbon, Ranger Creek?"
"36 Texas straight," Ant nods tipping his stetson. "You know my poison."
"I sure do, and I'll be joining you for one in just a minute!" I hurry out before I push open the door to my office. Moments later I sink into the leather chair behind my desk, and pick up the receiver of the phone.
"Put her through, Hall," I say impatiently.
"Gretchen, what have you got for me?" I ask as soon as the woman I've instructed to use my daughter's name when calling the office is put through.
"She's booked an appointment with Dr. Thomas Matthews. Psychiatrist. She's in there now."
I sigh. "Does anyone know?"
"She's been discrete. It was Dr. Marquise who made the appointment."
"Evony. Of course. And Dr. Lewis?"
"There was a brief encounter on New Year's Eve as you know, but nothing since."
"All right. Monitor the situation, Gretchen. Under no circumstance can the press get wind of my daughter's little problem. Understand?"
"Of course, Senator."
"Thank you, Gretchen." I say and end the call before getting Hall back on the phone. "Send Ant in."
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Washington DC
Lauren's loft
Lauren's POV
I jog back to my building, speed up the stairs of the brownstone, and check my mailbox in the entry hall. There's nothing there but a few bills, and the paper. I put them under my arm, and decide to take the stairs instead of the elevator.
"Hey Artie," I say as he comes bounding down the stairs, meowing, talking to me. "What did you do while I was out? I hope you got a head start on that case I asked you to look at?" Artie meows as if answering. "You did? That's fantastic, we'll talk after my shower, k?"
I put the mail and the newspaper on my kitchen table, pull open the fridge and grab a bottle of water there. Artie is at my feet purring, and meowing again. I look down as he looks up, and then walks up to his bowl.
"All right, buddy" I say, and top off his food. He meows again as I take another swig of water.
"That's not it? What do you want, Arthur?"
Artie moves to the fridge in there and curls his whole body around it, brushing it as if it were a lover. I shake my head and grin. There's catmilk in that fridge and the cat knows it.
I chuckle. "Just this one time," I warn though it's a ridiculous thing to say. I give into my cat way too often. What can I say, he is just way too cute for his own good.I grab the cat milk, pour some of it in Artie's bowl, and leave him purring, drinking up the milk as I head towards my shower.
Thirty minutes later I'm showered and dressed. I have this week off from the ER, and only have to go back to John's Hopkins on Thursday. It leaves me with room for what people call "leisure time", I suppose, but I'm already making plans and schedules in my head. I have lectures to prep for, a few cases waiting for me, and then I have Bo's file here too, all of which I will get to as soon as I've had breakfast and read the paper.
Bread, cheese, fruit, and tea is what I fix myself. "Let's see what the world is up to, Artie" I say scanning the pages. Page one is the resignation of Top Pentagon spokeswoman resigning after months of debate. Then there's the flood in the Philippines and more bad news. There's also mention of the New Year's eve party, an ad-hoc interview with none other than Senator Jack Dennis. I roll my eyes and turn the page aggressively. A small glimmer of hope on page four where the sale of assault rifles to people under 21 is banned. I say glimmer but scoff at the same time. What the hell are we doing selling guns to civilians in the first place? They cause more harm than they do good. My work is evidence of that, so is my personal life. I turn to page five with the hopes to better my mood, but throw the rag on the table instead as soon as I catch a glimpse of the main story there. Having lost my appetite completely, I clear the table, put everything in the dishwasher. I'm about to start on my upcoming lecture when there is a knock on the door. I'm not expecting anyone so I take my phone out, go to the ap for the camera of my front door.
I see Ben's face sticking out his tongue at me, his eyes rolled backwards. With a laugh I go to open my door.
"Hello, handsome," I say in greeting, and pull him in for a hug.
"Hello, gorgeous," Ben greets back, and I revel in his hug just a moment longer before asking. "What are you doing here, and where is that handsome fiancee of yours?"
"The Holidays are family time, Laur. You didn't think you could skip out on a second Christmas with me, right?" Ben asks, and I only now see the bag of groceries in his hand. "Austin had to work, but I hope you're up for another 5 course meal today."
I smile wide. "I have wine."
"Then we are in business," Ben says, and moves inside.
Ben heads directly for my kitchen, and puts all the groceries there. He doesn't comment on the fact that I have scarcely decorated the loft for Christmas. There's only a small tree in the living room, and a few lights here and there. Emily isn't big on Christmas and with me not being in the country even, I didn't see the point. Instead he pulls out more Christmas lights and begins to drape those all over the place, along with fake snow, and gawdy Christmas decorations; candy canes, reindeers and Mr and Mrs Clause miniatures. I roll my eyes, laughing at the same time and head for one of the guest bedrooms. There's a huge closet there with plenty of more decorations. I pull out the boxes, carry them to the living room.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Ben grins and I smile with him when I start unpacking. In no time at all my otherwise sparsely decorated flat is transformed into a Christmas haven a mall would be envious of: including a 10ft Christmas tree (fake, but a good fake), covered in glitters and lights, sparkling brightly, and a few life size reindeers and regular deers that appear as if grazing but can light up in 10 different colors. Done with decorating, Ben moves to the kitchen. He gets to working on our food, and I get two glasses and a good wine from my pantry. We chat as we peel and cut, bake and cook; about meeting Austin's parents, and how Austin's dad is a Colonel in the army and Ben is just 'slightly' frightened of him, about Ben's work and mine. Soon enough the entire loft is basked in a delicious smell: I breathe in deeply, look around my flat again and smile widely and genuinely for the first time in a while. I really am happy he is here.
Ben and I carry on chatting, soon we are eating, and soon what started with a surprise visit around brunch time turns into evening. By now we're in the sofa. Light has faded outside, and we're curled up, another glass of wine in our hand.
"This is good wine,"
I smile. "You told me to buy it."
"That explains.. a lot," Ben mumbles, obviously buzzed.
"I paid a fortune,"
"Want quality you need to work for it,"
"That sounds like one of your pick-up lines," I remark raising a brow from behind my glass.
Ben giggle a little more before we fall silent. It's Ben who speaks first again.
"So, stargazer," Ben says, a teasing tone underneath. Ben hasn't called me that in a long while. Not since my dad came to visit me in college, embarrassed me by calling me that in public, and Ben had a good laugh at my expense.
"Yes, monkey?" I ask using Eliza Cooper's nickname for her son making Ben laugh lightly. We're both buzzed, a little drunk, but not too much. It's a pleasant state of being, and I wish it could just continue. Ben and I are both a lot more fun when we're like this. You wouldn't think it of Ben. He's funny and jovial, always appears relaxed as if life slides off of him, and he is, and it does in a way, but like me he's cautious, not quick to talk about his feelings. My feelings, however, he has no problem with. Ben is here to spend a belated Christmas with me, sure. That in itself is not strange, but I knew from the second he told me Austin stayed behind he was also here for another reason. I wish I could just take one last sip and then call it a night, crawl into bed and go to sleep, but Ben is too much of a Nosy Rosy to let me do that.
"You didn't tell me."
I nod. "I'll spare you pretending I don't know what you're talking about."
"Thanks, sugar," Ben offers with a small smile.
"I didn't think you would approve. I'm not wrong."
"I'm worried about you."
I nod. "You're angry at me," I say with a tilt of my head. "You have that same expression on your face when I slept with Evony."
"She was a bad choice."
"Not arguing there. I seem to recall a few bad choices of your own back then."
"Not arguing there," Ben concedes with a small chuckle that quickly fades. "You lied to me."
"Ah," I nod. "Are we fighting?"
"Maybe,"
"Well, full disclosure. I sort of broke up with Emily, or she broke up with me, or we're on hiatus."
"Full disclosure, I know."
I raise a brow.
"Tamsin called, and after Tamsin I heard from Mabel."
"Good to see the gossip train is up and running, and decided to make a stop at my door," I grumble. "You know what, I think we are fighting." I say getting up.
"What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?" I say eying Ben. "I could be walking away before this gets out of hand or I could be getting another bottle. That one is empty." I say and we both glance at the empty bottle on the table. "Or do you mean with my life? Cause in that case I really do think I should head to bed."
"Breaking up with Emily, getting involved with Bo again."
"Emily broke up with me, and I'm helping Bo. I'm not 'getting involved'. There's a difference."
"Semantics. Helping with Bo, getting involved with Bo. It's all the same for you when it comes to Bo."
I sigh. "I wish people would just stop assuming that," I say gripping the glass in my hand a little tighter.
"You went to see her, Lauren. On New Year. I know what that date means to you," Ben pushes.
I shake my head. "Ben-"
"Can't you see what she's doing to you, Lauren? Bo is bad for you, so is that gang, you need to stay away from them! You broke up with Emily over her. Over a damn ghost!"
"She broke up with me, Ben!" I snap. "Damnit," I say pinching the bridge of my nose. "Ben, listen. I love you, and I get it, you worry. You saw, more than most, what losing her meant, how hurt I was."
"Devastated."
"Sure, yeah, devastated," I nod agreeing. "But, it's been four years. I'm over it."
"Then why did you go see her, Lauren? Why rip open that wound? Why did Emily break up with you over it?"
"We might be on hiatus," I offer. "It's unclear."
"That's not wh-"
I hold my hand up silencing Ben. "Emily broke up with me because I can't give her what she wants. She wants a wife and a life, and I can't give her that."
"Because of Bo."
"No, not because of Bo, not that way!" I protest, and my thoughts flash back to the news paper article from this morning, the photos of Bo in an intimate embrace with some blonde skank from the Dal. It's just another reminder that that life, a possible life with Bo is behind me, that it ended four years ago without a chance of it rekindling. And that's okay. It's okay. I've accepted it. It's better that way. I'm over it, I'm over her. It's not about love, not anymore.
"Then why the he-"
"Because I feel guilty!" I shout. "Damnit, Ben, you of all people should know that!"
Replies to reviews
SweetCandyCane: Awe, thanks! :-)
Frenchi: I'm always so happy with your reviews! Love that you keep reading. Lots of love!
Joan: Word! ;-)
Guest: Depressing is the new uplifting ;-) Roll with it :-) In all seriousness...you can't have the ups if you don't have downs, it'll get better.
J: Yeah, Jack is an interesting guy... We'll get to the whys and the hows of that too!
Susan: I can't tell you how many part of the last chap I had to rewrite. I initially had it where Lauren actually kissed Bo on New Year, and then regretted it (for many reasons), but then I chickened out, didn't think or want Lauren to do that to Emily. Wondering though, would you guys have minded had I written it that way?
Saphire: I aim to please :-)
Sarah: Anytime!
Guest: Well, Bo is going to a psychiatrist. First small steps and all of that :)
Sylvy: Dyson's deeds will come up later. Not to worry, he'll be properly flogged ;-)
Junetweed: Thanks, Junet. Bo and Lo are both wobbly at the moment, but I'm giving them more "moments" pretty soon.
Mulder: Mountain Dew cause I had never had that until I first came to the states. I thought it was disgustingly sweet! Fun fact, soft drinks in the US are in general a lot sweeter than in Europe. So yeah, that's where that comes from! Twinkies well...one of the first things my brother ate when he went to the states.. Pretty random choices, but not really ;-) Emily is a nice girl. I mean yeah, I didn't want to give Lauren yet another psycho girlfriend, but at the end of the day, she's just not the right fit I think for Lauren. Oo, thumbs up for your well-crafted plot comment. yeah, I totally had all of this outlined from the start cause that's how I work...I mean that sounds convincing when you read it, right?
JCM: 1 and 2) Well, pretty much everyone is lying to Bo on some level. They have their reasons. Did they stretch the expiration date on them? Possibly. 3) Let me know what you would like to see happen to Dyson, and I can see if I can work it into the story. Though I was just thinking to have them hug it out in the end? Sort of love conquers all? No?
KrDavis: Yup, even after four years of misery and memory loss between them they still have instant chemistry, and listen, Lauren will come round shortly. I think, maybe...Yeah, I apparently love making you think Bo and Lo won't be okay only then to blab that they'll be just fine. It's a thing.
Guest: the povs are really a necessity sometimes, and fun to write too. I especially like writing Tamsin, think she's a hoot!
KatieCR: Awe! Thanks!
Ahsnaps: Let me know if you got answers from this chap, I'm curious! ;)
Guest: Good observer! There will be more on Stacy and what happened in the upcoming chapters. This one above was written to sort of tie up the loose ends on the current relationships in the story.
Guest: I have to reread this stuff too! I seriously can't remember the blabla I wrote before half of the time ;) So happy you like it though. Lots of love from Belgium, my French neighbor! :)
Frenchi: Dynamite and coup de theatre is what I go for! thanks so much for all your reviews and your continued support, Frenchi!
Guest: Soon is like a couple of months, right? -awkward smile-
Guest: In love! Awesome! :-)
