Choices

by Mystic25

UPDATE CHAPTER 28 SUMMARY: Jessie finally asks Max about her past

22. All It Takes

Choices 23 -"All it Takes" AUTHOR: Mystic25 EMAIL:

Summary: Margo Cale invites her 'dear' nephew (Logan) and his wife over for a lawn party, but the events take a turn when Max decides to get something back that was owed to Logan.

RATING: PG13 for language

DISCLAIMER: James Cameron is a greedy money sucking pig and I stole his characters. There I said it. If he wants to start something he can just come on back.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry the summary sucks, I couldn't think of anything, but it will make sense when you read the fic. This one alternates from Max and Logan's point-of-view. I like writing things from their different perspectives.

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MAX

2:15 AM

Kaja is starin' at me as I take stumbling steps across the hallway. At one point I almost step on her tail because even I- with my super soldier agilities and endurance- cannot deal with being woken up every four hours for the past three weeks by an infant who hasn't grasped the fact that most people sleep at night. Even though I rarely sleep I would like to have the opportunity sometimes. As usual I'm barefoot for this trek down to Lucy's nursery so it is no real surprise when I step full force on one of Jessie's toy army men that he had never picked up from playing "battle".

"Damn!" I take a moment to pluck the plastic soldier's bayonet from my foot. Kaja was now sitting right in front of me on her haunches, cocking her head to one side at my curse like she didn't believe I had just said that.

"You know it would be simpler if you just ate these like other curious dogs with no sense of taste." I say to my German Shepard, watching as she pulls forward to sniff at the toy in my hand. She gives it one solid warm lick with her tongue before turning a pitiful gaze up to me, as if to ask my permission to take it.

"Sorry girl, I was just kiddin' about eating this thing." I scratch her right ear and she melds into my hand at the contact. "But trust me you aren't missin' out on anything new and exciting." Another piercing cry from Lucy in her crib blasts through the hallway. It was her way of reminding me that she was the reason I was awake, not the dog.

I move past Kaja and finally reach the door to the nursery. I open it silently even though I know the occupant of the room is wide awake and waiting for her late night meal.

Lucy is lyin' flat on her back on the tiny crib mattress cryin' her head off, and when she spots me leaning over her she reaches out two tiny arms, grabbing at the air above my breasts. This girl is just plain greedy, she nurses in half hour stretches before she falls asleep and wants more four hours later. But being the mother of two weaned kids, I should know this by now. All my children were greedy at this age. It must be something in my genes that created it.

"Shh honey," I pick her up and cradle her small body to me. "You're gonna wake up the city with that racket." I walk her to the rocking chair sitting by the window and sit down gently on the swaying surface. The rocking movement calms her slightly, but she's still carrying on because she still hasn't gotten what she wants - food. I lift up to my tank top expose my right breast so Lucy can suckle. Her tiny mouth tickles my nipple as she moves it back and forth over me to get her meal. When I first breast-feed Jessie when he was a baby it was not as glorious an event as all the books claimed it would be. Oh sure it was a very bonding moment for him and me, but it hurt, something that none of those damn experts who wrote those books devoted much space to, because who would enjoy 'that special moment' with baby if they told you it felt like a crab's claw was having it's way with your nipple? It took several weeks to get use to the feeling, and enjoy it for what it actually was - a time for my kids and I to connect with each other.

Lucy's brown eyes are locked on mine as she eats, watching me intently. I stroke her soft chocolate-colored baby hair with my free arm and listen to the sounds of the homeless on the Seattle streets dumping wood to their trash can fires to make them grow stronger. Amidst this clattering symphony of wood and metal I can hear some of them droppin' their vocals in rhythmic tones. A few of them have gotten together and were harmonizing a melody that would make a joke out of any Motown group:

"When the night, has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only, light we'll see
No I won't be afraid; no I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me."

I have heard snatches of this song before but have no idea who sings it. It was done by a band way before the Pulse ever hit, around the 1950's. I'm not sayin' that because it was originally sung so long ago that it doesn't deserve recognition, I'm not the kind of girl who screws anything that didn't come out in the last three minutes. I'm just sayin' that I know two kinds of music: classical compositions - Brahms, Mozart, Handel - that Manticore beat into our heads to further our brain development; and what I call 'music for the masses' - Limp Bizkit, Coldplay, Slipknot - music I actually own and have intermixed between Logan's classical CD's and the old works of legends such as the Temptations, Sammie Davis Jr. and Frank Sinatra. But this song isn't in either one of our CD collections, but it's nice though, comforting. And there isn't much comfort left in America these days.

Lucy has finally stopped nursing and now is asleep against my bare breast. Don't know if it was the song or the suckling that did it, but either way she has reached a level of security that never existed for me as a child. I rock her for a few more minutes, not for her benefit, but for mine. She is already sleeping; this is just my time to gaze at her. She's only three-weeks-old but already her eyelashes are incredibly thick and long. With her eyes closed they cast shadows on her soft cheeks. Mom was right; she is a tiny mirror image of me. If Logan ever had to prove his status as her father based on Lucy's looks he'd be in deep shit. But I know full well who was there at Lucy's conception. Never knew that a game of chess and a small bottle of cognac could go so far.

After I feel that Lucy has efficiently settled down for the night I slowly stand up and walk her back to the crib, lying her small form back down on the mattress. I take this opportunity of serenity to stroke her soft baby cheek with one finger, knowing that I would be seeing her again in a few hours for another feeding. Who'd a ever thought that me, with all my cynicism, would take such pleasure in the basic simplicity of watching my baby sleep? Deck would be so disappointed if he knew that I was wasting my perfectly good talents of killing and maiming to play 'mommy'.

"Mommy?" The door creaks open slowly and Lexi's tiny body comes through the small opening. She's wearing that long nightgown with the words 'Girls Kick Ass' that she begged and pleaded that I get her when she saw it at the market. It wasn't that I didn't agree completely with the slogan, I just didn't see the benefit of my three-year-old learnin' those words every time she looked down at her pajamas. But I gave in eventually, with the promise from Lexi that she would never use last word in a sentence until she was 21.

"Sorry baby," I whisper, tiptoeing over to where she was still standing by the door. "Did I wake you?"

"I wanted to see Lucy," Lexi admits. Ever since I had brought her home both Jessie and Lexi had fallen in love with their little sister. They would watch everything I did with her - changings, feedings, bath time. But they didn't think of her as a new toy that I brought for them to play with like some children were stupidly encouraged by their parents to believe about their baby siblings. Jessie had said it himself: 'Mom, she's looks like you, will she be as pretty when she grows up as big as you?" He was such a mature soul that it was hard to believe sometimes that he was only four with a birthday coming up next month.

"She's asleep right now honey, but you can take a peek at her if you want." I take my daughter's hand and lead her quietly back to the crib, picking her up so she can lean over it's side and peek at her baby sister.

"She's so small." Lexi marvels. "Do all babies start out that way mommy?"

I nod, and gave her a kiss on her forehead. "You started out that way too, but you were so cute it started an argument about who got to hold you first."

Lexi turns her head back to me. "It did?" She loves hearing stories about herself.

"Yeah." I inform hugging her close to me, smelling the honey kid's shampoo in her hair. I look down to my other daughter asleep in her crib. "It seems to be the characteristic of all my girls."

"Mommy what does 'characteristic' mean?" Lexi asks.

"Means the way you are, how pretty, how tall, whether you like chocolate ice cream or strawberry." I explain the meaning in terms my baby girl can understand watching her face light up as she instantly gets what I'm trying to say. Being born to a revved up momma has its share of perks.

"I think Lucy has pretty characteristics." Lexi tests out her new vocabulary word and pulls forward to get a better view of the baby.

"No arguments from me," I agree watching her watch Lucy sleep. "I think we should let her sleep 'cause she likes to wake up early for breakfast." I walk away from the crib carrying my daughter out the door and once we're in the hallway I set her back down on her feet. "You should go back to bed now honey, it's too early to start skulking around."

"Can I sleep in your room mommy?" Lexi asked. She seized any opportunity she could to try and get in bed with Logan and me because it was a large king size sleigh bed - a huge comfortable island for a kid.

"You have your own bed sweetie," I remind gently. I knew a girl at my old building that slept with her infant son and literally crushed him to death one night when she rolled over on top of him. Lexi was bigger then an infant, but she would be swamped between her daddy and me and it was too easy for an accident to occur. She had only sleep in our bed once - when she was a baby and her room had been touched up with paint, and even then I laid her on my chest and made myself stay in the same position all night like I had done in solitary confinement back at Manticore.

"Please?" Lexi begged with the big-lip smile and sad eyes.

Damn, why'd she have to get Logan's eyes? I always drown in that kind of blue. I sigh, feeling the effects of defeat come over me. "Aiight, but you have to stay in one spot kay? No rollin' around like a squigglin' puppy."

"Kay." Lexi agreed with the biggest smile I've even seen. She races ahead of me to the master bedroom and grabbed a hold of the knob.

We bypass Kaja on the way to my room, but she takes no notice of us because she has settled down to chew on her army helmet chew toy from Zane - where the boy digs gets this stuff I'll never know.

"Shh," I put a finger to my lips when she pulls the door open. "Put it in stealth mode honey or you'll wake up daddy."

Lexi silently agrees, putting a finger to her own lips and steps quietly over the expensive maroon Oriental rug that covered the glazed hardwood floor. It took almost a minute for her to reach the bed due to the fact that the floor space of the master bedroom is almost as big as my old apartment. She finally reached her target area and crept up on the bed silently, crawling into the spot that I had vacated to check on Lucy.

"Max-" Lexi apparently wasn't quiet enough to not wake up Logan. He shifts his head to where I had been lying before and is surprised by the sight of our daughter there instead of me.

"No daddy, Lexi." Lexi giggles at the sound of her daddy calling her mommy by her first name. It was the same laugh that she had emitted when she caught me calling Logan "baby" one day in the kitchen.

Logan takes a moment to clear some cobwebs from his head so he could speak to her coherently. "What are you doing up so early kiddo?"

"Mommy said I could sleep in here with you." Lexi no longer contained her excitement about her grand adventure for the rest of the night. She leans over and kisses his nose.

Logan smiled at her; he could never turn his daughter down when she was in her 'sweet and cute' mode. It was a trait she had acquired from me, except mine was more of an 'alluring and sexy' mode. "Then I guess you better make room for her." He returns the kiss on her nose.

Lexi smiles again and scoots over so I could slide in beside her. She snuggles in between the sheets and rests her head on Logan's shoulder. She is my daughter too, but she is defiantly a daddy's girl. Their relationship is something very therapeutic for me to witnesses since I never had a great fatherly role model in my life - first Deck, then Lucy's dad - and it had taken me a long time to place any semblance of trust in men. When I first hooked up with Original Cindy and had she told me she was a lesbian I almost considered joining her to escape any future confrontation with men.

"Where were you just now?" Logan's voice draws me out of my thoughts. One hand is caressing Lexi's back as she faces him.

"Girl's gotta have her privacy," I inform.

"You married into the Cale family Max. Privacy has nothing to do with it." Logan states.

I laugh dryly, knowing full well what he meant and loving him for offering me his banter instead of trying to rectify my problems by 'talking about it'. I look over at Lexi who has now completely buried herself in Logan's shoulder. "I say you found yourself a pretty new girlfriend."

Logan smiles then and looks down at Lexi's brown hair. "She takes after someone I know."

"Cept I'm not pretty." I tell him flatly.

He snaps his head up then. "Are you high or something?" He uses the same line he gave me when I broke in here to steal Bast and started this whole mess of a loving relationship and three children; and then switches to a completely newly thought up line of charm: "Because you are unquestionably beautiful sweetheart."

"See now that I'll buy. " I remark. "Pretty is somethin' you say to a little girl you don't know to comment on how she looks in her Easter Dress. Beautiful is what you say to a woman you wanna make it with every day for the rest of your life."

"Well then lie down here beautiful so we can get started with the rest of our life." Logan says with a smile and coaxes to lie down beside him.

"We just had a third baby Logan-," I remind him. "How many more kids do you want?"

"You're the one with 11 siblings, you tell me." He gives me a seductive eyebrow raise and smiles like he knows how much he's desirable to me.

If this goes on any longer I'm gonna hafta change my clothes. His damn sexy intellectual expressions get me every time. All those women chasing after muscled up jocks are completely missing out on the appeal of a spectacle-clad cyber journalist with spiked brown hair and five o' clock stubble. I so want to do things to him right now, and he knows it with that grin plastered all over his face. But we both know we can't - one because Lexi is in here and I'd rather not shock her by giving her a first hand lesson on the birds and the bees. And two - I am still a post partum mom, that means no sex for six weeks. It's been three weeks, six days, nine hours and twenty-three minutes since we last met on the intimate level. And I've been feelin' every second of it. I'm not a nymphet, who needs it every five minutes, but sex is like a drug, once you get the feel of it in you it's not something you want to give up for one and a half months. The only other time I feel this hungry was when I was in heat, and at least Logan could indulge me, but this is torture.

"Max-" His voice draws me out of my thoughts again.

"What?" I turn to catch him staring at me, the second time in three minutes. I'm tarnishing my 'constantly in focus' reputation. "Sorry, I spaced out."

"I noticed," Logan returns now whispering because Lexi has gotten her wish, and has fallen asleep in our bed. "You must've been thinking about the same thing I was." I catch his dark sensual tone as he says this and his hand seems to be twitching in his desire to touch me.

"Sorry baby," I pull myself down to the pillow and rest my head against my elbow. "I didn't make up the six weeks time table. Not like it's a picnic from where I'm sittin' either."

Logan emits the tiniest hint of a sigh and looks up at me. "It was times like this I wish I had better fantasying skills." His finally reaches out his hand to connect with my wrist.

"And I'm glad you don't." I let him know. "'Cause otherwise you'd be the epitome of the three legged male that Original Cindy disses everyday dreamin' of penthouse playmates while your woman's at work."

"Well Original Cindy doesn't have all men pegged." He looks into my eyes like we're doing a love scene in a movie. "I already have my woman and my penthouse. The playmates are just going to have to play somewhere else."

I laugh quietly and say reluctantly: "Sorry, we still can't."

Logan sighs again, more audibly. "I know. I just wish there was another way. Because for the record you are the sexiest woman I've ever met and this city's about to run out of cold water from all the showers I've had to take for the past three weeks."

It takes every fiber of restraint within me not to jump him then. "We'd better go back to sleep, otherwise I'm gonna screw the celibacy rule."

Logan smiles at me in the dark and lays back down, placing his head next to Lexi's and closes his eyes, not saying anything more, because I know he was thinking the same thing.

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LOGAN

8: 55 AM

The icy pinpricks of the shower water greets me again as it has for the past 21 days. I've now saved enough hot water to make oatmeal to feed the entire population of China. I shower quickly, don't even really soap up and step out of the frosted glass octagon shower, grabbing a plush egg shell white terry towel to dry off with and then slip into my red robe.

I tie the sash off and then notice a smell coming from the fabric that could only be described as utterly Max. It was a mixture of the cherry lip balm she always carries around and put on after her shower, her almost medicinal - but clean smelling - shampoo and traces of the citrus soap she always washes with to remove motor oil from her hands after she tinkers with her bike. These were all swirled together into one intoxicating scent and they were all over my robe that she had stolen on more then several occasions. To plenty of men, knowing that their girlfriend or wife wears articles of their clothing and intermingles her smell on the material is one of the biggest turn ons. But I don't want to be turned on. As priest-like as that sounds I know that this lusting for her will ultimately end back here in the bathroom under the water. Maybe it was my fault for getting her pregnant and evoking the situation we have to live with for another month, but at least back then I got to have sex with my wife, not spend all my time sitting on my hands after each time she gave me one of drop dead gorgeous smiles.

She isn't there when I come back in our bedroom to find more suitable clothes than a bathrobe for the day. Lexi is gone too, she is an early riser just like her mother, which is kind of good for me since I don't have to try and dress in a hurry so she won't wake up and catch me in the nude. I'm not ready to explain that part of life to my three-year-old daughter just yet.

I step into my walk in closet and pull out a pair of jeans and my black zip up wool sweater. Most of this closet is devoted to my stuff, and until Max moved in with me and I saw the meager space her things took up in here I never realized that I owned a lot of clothes. When I was growing up being well dressed was just as much a part of life as eating breakfast. Aunt Margo use to take me and Marie shopping every other week with mom to pick up what Margo called 'suitable attire for people of our breeding.' It was also a way for Margo to rub my mother's face in the fact that she had 'really simplified her brother-in-law Robert's lifestyle by tying him down to the poorest excuse for an heiress she'd ever seen.' Mom would always respond to this snootiness in the same way - 'accidentally' loose Margo in a stream of traffic on the way back to her and Jonas' villa on the East Side of Seattle. As I slip on the clothes I think of how my mother would've loved the clothing selection I'd chosen. She was very much a fan of the 'casual, but still stylish' look. Coming home from school I'd often find her in her Levi 501's and a baby pink cardigan and loved the look on her way better than the pearls and Gucci suits Aunt Margo wore even in the house.

Max has a tank top in that same pink and every time I see her wear it I can't help but think of mom because it was her favorite color. She had it in dresses blouses, skirts even hair clips and ties. And I always thought it was one of the best colors on her; she looked like more then a mom in it - she looked like a real, vibrant woman. I'm 36, but I still miss her. I didn't have the luxury of building up a desire to be on my own from my parents like other teenagers did. When I went down with Margo and Jonas to ID her body at the morgue I thought of all the things she would miss, basketball tryouts, school plays, first dates. And now that list has gotten extensively longer. My high school graduation, my graduation from Yale, my first journalism gig for the Seattle Sentiental, my marriage to Max, our three children being born.

When Lucia first came back into Max's life - after the skepticism had worn off - a kind of jealously had welled up inside me. Her mother had come back to her while mine was still dead and buried in my family plot. I knew that it wasn't fair, Max had endured far more then me as a child and deserved to know that she had a mom who loved her, but I still wanted my mom back. Sara Elizabeth Cale was the first woman I had ever loved and it was unbearably cruel to have her die in the prime of her life and never be allowed to see me again.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't even realize that I'm still standing in the middle of my closet in my robe, just holding my clothes.

"Hey," Max's voice causes me to turn to spot her standing beside the closet door dressed in a pair of army green five-pocketed flair low riders and a black spaghetti strap soft V-cut tank top. "I may have been spaced out before, but you were beyond la la land there buddy."

Black looks much better on her than it does me right now and it helps me focus on the here and now. "I wasn't that far baby," I rectify. "This closet isn't zoned for 'beyond la la land'."

She smiles at me again in a way that reminds me very abruptly where all my male organs lie and I can't help but notice the way she's eyeing me under my robe. God, anther whole month of not touching her - I don't think a cold shower's gonna cut it anymore.

"Logan if you don't quit that I'm gonna hafta smack you." She crashes my mental seduction of her body.

"Sorry." I repeat what she told me last night before she pretend to fall asleep while I watched her, pretending the same thing until I finally got knocked out somewhere around four. "Have you eaten yet?" Food is always an out for me; I can create the most creative culinary masterpieces to avoid dealing with a situation.

"I savored my first real cup of coffee in a long time." She returns with a pleasing smile on her face. "If that ain't heaven I don't know what is."

Her smile is contagious and I respond to it. I love Max for many reasons, and one of the top ones is the way she finds such pleasure in things that most people would take for granted; fresh coffee, hot showers - all things she missed growing up as a child because of steel barracks and military training. "Did you pump? Because it's my understanding that caffeine has this tendency to end up in breast milk."

She shoots me a look. "I'm aware of the drill. I've had kids too."

She isn't really mad at me, more like borderline annoyed. "You know you really need more in your system then just coffee." I say. The best way to avoid a fight is to change the subject. "How about I pull together a three cheese omelet? That is if you set the table."

"Not a problem, so long as your end of the bargain is to my liking." Her return is typical Max, agreeable yet still in tune to what she wants. She disappears down the hallway and after a few more minutes of getting dressed I follow her.

The modern art painting hanging on the hallway wall greets me as it does every morning. It wasn't something I picked out, it came with the penthouse when I bought it and I didn't get rid of it because it matched the décor. I don't have a problem with modern art, but my taste is more geared towards the old masters like Edward Manet, Van Goth, and contemporary works of Norman Rockwell. When I was still married to Val I sold off my favorite Rockwell painting that mom had given me in order to pay the fees for a dry out clinic for my now ex-wife, which Val never even went to. I found it later on an online auction but I was out bid by one Margo Cale who shelled out twenty-five thousand for the painting that now hangs in her cocktail room. I've got it set in my mind that the next time I go over there I'm going to ask for it back, explain to my Aunt that I never wanted to part with it in the first place. But she'll never go for that. The only way I managed to get mom's locket back from her was after Max stole it. Maybe I should just ask for her to do the same thing now - she's good at it, and she'd be more then willing to stick it to Margo again - but I can't ask her to do that. Max is beyond the scope of my personal cat burglar now. I don't expect her to slink into her cat suit to retrieve something I should've never sold off in the first place - even though she looks damn sexy in that black body-hugging thing.

All these thoughts are still coursing through my head as I reach the kitchen and examine the chrome refrigerator for the ingredients to my omelet. Max has already set the table immaculately and was now busy with preparing small simple snacks for our two oldest kids to take to preschool. Strapped to the front of her body - in a navy blue snuggly - is Lucy, still asleep despite all her mommy's movements.

They are the single most beautiful sight in the world right then and I watch them both for a moment, taking a mental snapshot and storing it away with the countless others I have in my brain. "You two did a good job on the table." I kiss Max first, then the baby who doesn't stir at all. Her eyelashes are thick and her lips are full like her mother's. I'm going to have to keep my gun handy to fend off boys when she grows up.

"One of the members of the cutlery unit was asleep through the whole process." Max states, looking down at the baby. "But she'll be forgiven after she does somethin' outrageously cute."

"She sounds a lot like you," I return, looking over my wife's handiwork of food for the kids' lunches. Carrot sticks, orange wedges that she scored off the Farmer's Market last week and peanut butter sandwiches with no jelly because we ran out and there seems to be a shortage of it in Seattle. "Nice spread." I tell her. "They won't even realize that they're eating healthy until after they've already found amusement in all the colors and textures."

"I excelled in tactical under handing as a child." Max says, folding the last sandwich together before depositing it into a plastic baggie.

Jessie has come into the kitchen without my knowledge and is now stepping up over the side of the cabinets in order to eye his food that is being prepared.

"Is there jelly this time mommy?" he asks, trying to peak into the smooshed halves of bread.

"Sorry hun, Seattle's all out of jelly." Max states placing all of the food laid out for our son into a brown paper bag. You'll just have to take your PB straight."

Jessie makes a face then, because he hates the way raw peanut butter sandwiches sticks to the roof of his mouth. "Can I at least have a juice box instead of water?"

"Now that's doable." Max answers him with a smile. She grabs two small red cardboard boxes of imitation cherry flavored juice - the best Seattle markets had to offer - from off the far right end of the counter and hands them both to him. "Give one of them to Lexi when you see her."

Jessie reaches his hand out to take the juice from Max, but retracts it a second later. "If I do it, do I get to hold Lucy?"

I chuckle quietly at my son's demand. The first day we brought the baby home he got to hold her on the couch. He had the biggest 'big brother' grin on his face the whole time Lucy was in his lap - it was the kind of expression I imagined Zack would have had around his sisters as a child if he hadn't been so hotheaded since birth. And ever since then Jessie has been bugging us every day to hold her again because he had become what I always hoped he be - addicted to his baby sister, just like he was with Lexi. Though he was only a year old when she was born he begged to hold her, although he was so young he knew excatly who she was and began loving her from day one.

Max smiles and - placing a supporting hand behind Lucy's head in the snuggly - she kneels down to Jess's height. "Tell ya what, she's gonna be napping for most of the mornin', but if you give this to your other sister you can give it a shot after school."

Jess grins back at her. "Thanks mommy." He kisses her cheek and took the juice boxes from her running off to find Lexi who is still getting dressed in their room.

"Max Cale, I'm surprised at your behavior." I scold her, watching her stand back up into a full erect position. "Bribing a four-year-old with his own sister."

"I only use what works honey." Max retorts walking over to me. "And to broach on another topic I still haven't gotten my promised culinary sensation."

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it a 'sensation.' Max." I insist.

She takes a miniscule step closer, pressing herself as close to my body as the baby she is holding will allow. "Then how about if I'm the sensation and you just work on the culinary part?"

Dear God is she trying to kill me? I can smell the coffee on her breath along with an infusion of amaretto flavoring she adds to it because it tasted like cherries - her favorite flavor. As if that isn't enough torture she darts her tongue out to wet her dry lips. I now have to forcefully remind myself that we can't be intimate. Not that I am a horny ogre who only appreciates my woman on how much she can put out - I love Max so far beyond her physical beauty - I just relish every time we made love because it connects me to an ever cautious female soldier who only allows deeply intimate moments to happen with someone she completely trusts.

"That's definitely an arrangement I can go for." I say on my way to the refrigerator to get out the eggs and cool my flushed face off in the vegetable crisper. After I've regain a phony air of pre-pubescent virgin ignorance I take out a bowl of eggs and one block each of ricotta, parmesan, and asiago cheese from the top shelf and bring all the items over to the butcher block island, removing the iron skillet hanging on the pot rack above my head.

I don't see Max anymore, because she has disappeared back down the hallway towards the nursery for something. She comes back just as I'm whisking five eggs in a glass bowl with Lucy now in her infant carrier. She has woken up from her nap and now stares at me with her huge brown eyes.

"I suppose you want an omelet too." I say to Lucy after Max sets her down on the empty counter to watch me cook. Lucy's face contorts into a soft baby smile. "Sorry honey, this stuff's kind hard to take without your first molar in place yet." She coos at me in response, wigging around in her carrier. "You can bribe me all you want little girl, but it's not gonna work." I lean right over her and kiss her stomach. One of her small hands reaches out to touch the side of my cheek. Max is going to have to be the disciplinarian with this one, I mean how can I say no to that? I turn and kiss her on the palm, holding her much smaller hand in mine. "Despite how sweet that was you're still going to have to take your meals from mommy for a while kiddo." I kiss her again on the top of her head and go back to my cooking, only to find Max observing me. "What?"

"I'm just tryin' to unmelt my heart." Max says. "I mean there's only so much a girl can take before she becomes a puddle of warm sentiment on the floor."

She has always had a soft spot for kids even before she became a mom and this isn't the only time I've caught her staring at me when I was interacting with our children. I think it's therapeutic for her to see a man who actually gives a damn about his kids, it was something she never had herself. Lydecker didn't even assume that role with her and her foster father was a violating prick. Before I found out from Sara that the latter had died I had toyed with the idea of trading in my hand gun for a laser sighted AK-47 and shooting a couple of extra eyes holes in his head as retribution for the shit he put my wife and her foster sister through.

The front door opening draws me out of my past thoughts of bloodlust. It's obviously not an unknown person off the street or a member of my family because both adhere to the rules of knocking. That then leaves two choices - it's either Bling stopping by for something, or one of Max's siblings who always welcome themselves in.

My second suspicion is confirmed when the slim, well-laid-out form of Jondy appears in from the foyer. "Everyone can calm down now, da bomb squad has arrived."

I groan at my sister-in-law's choice of words. "On what planet is that ever possible?" The dishrag she launches at my head is inevitable.

= = =

MAX

"Nice to see you too Logan." Jondy throws out as he picks up the rag she pitched at him.

She then directs her attention to me, her long hair almost smackin' me in the face, as she turns to me in childish glee. "Maxie, it's been a while." Her tone is so casual that I almost think she's just gonna bang fists with me like we're just chillin'. But then she pulls me into a hug. "And I must say it's been too damn long of a while." She pulls back at examines with the same scrutiny she did to the bombs she dismantles. "Where the hell did all that baby fat go, you cannibalize yourself?"

"Honey you know how this DNA thing goes." I remind. "What kind of super warriors would we be if we didn't drop pregnancy pounds in a hurry?"

"Speakin' of which - " Jondy cut in. "Mind if I take a peek at your latest spin a procreation?"

"She's right over there." I nod over at the carrier on the counter where Lucy is busy tasting four of her fingers.

Jondy's lost then. She makes a beeline for her niece and just stares at her. "Damn Max, stop having such cute kids, give the rest of us a chance to catch up." Lucy just smiles and starts blowing tiny spit bubbles in her excitement at seeing a new person. Jondy smiles at how cute her tiny niece is presenting herself. "I'm seein' no ill effects on my niece from bein' delivered by my brother the walkin' cock." She kisses Lucy's head. "You're just a big ol' cutie pie aren't ya? You're makin' me want to start punchin' out my own seeds."

"You need a man for that girl," I remind to Jondy. "Or at the very least a donor at sperm bank."

"A depository of little swimmers on permanent open house is not my method of choice for procreation Maxie," Jondy notifies to me. "It's best to just hire a male hooker and do it the old fashioned way." She wasn't kidding either. Jondy' did what men for centuries had be doing to women for years, recognizing sex for it's complete potential. Her philosophy on sex was that it was a tool - very good in expressing physical affection to the guy who moved her furniture, but also useful to accomplish certain goals like reproduction and manipulation on male adversaries.

"I'm a fan of the classics myself." I agree then curse mentally cause I keep brining up things I can't do for three more weeks, three more damn weeks. I gauge Logan's reaction to this out of the corner of my eye, and I'll be damned if the man isn't smiling that intellectual, sexy grin that has turned me on since day one. Damn sexy lovable bastard. That's one smile I'd thoroughly enjoy wiping off.

Jondy looks to Logan and then turns to me because I think she sensed what was going on the minute she walked into the penthouse. "Hope I was interrupting somethin'."

"Not at all," Logan states almost sadly. Shit now he's bein' all sad, why doesn't he just go shirtless right in front of me?

"You two are pathetic." Jondy states in a 'tsking' tone. "It's not like what you want to be doin' is illegal or immoral."

"It's called 'post-partum' care." I remark. "Not so easy to just do things when you're instructed to be denied for six weeks."

"Maxie when have we ever followed instructions?" My sister asks matter-of-factly. "C'mon six weeks? Damn you'd have to chain me down to keep me from getting action for that long."

"It's worth it though," Logan informs talking about our bedroom relationship like it's casual dinnertime conversation. So maybe he is as restless as me. "To give Max a chance to recover after birth it's worth waiting six weeks for."

God now he's being sincere and courteous to my needs - I'm gonna disembowel the person who came up with this damn no sex after baby rule.

"Just keep telling yourself that Logan," Jondy comments, not believing his words for a second.

Logan looks like he wants to respond to that remark but the phone rang and he didn't get the chance. He picks up the silver cordless unit on the table behind the couch.

While he's talking Jondy turns to me with a reproachful look. "You don't have to go for 100 % penetration girl, there's no harm with just bein' topical with your lovin'."

"It is if you remember how good it felt after you go sublevel." I say keeping the longing sigh out of my voice cause what kind of soldier reveals her personal emotions?

"It's still better then you pretending that you're satisfied with just admiring your husband from afar." Jondy is speaking like a wise priestess on lovemaking. "Believe me Max, if you two don't initiate some kind of intimate contact with each other soon you're both going to explode."

If she only knew that explosions are something I want to happen between my husband and I.

Logan has come back from his rather short convo over the phone, looking like someone told him they'd just ran over his childhood puppy. "That was Aunt Margo. Apparently she has met up with a gentleman caller and wants us there to meet him."

"What you mean like a comin' out?" I ask, not believing for one second that Margo just wants us to meet her new shack up.

"No." Logan interjects. "Margo never just 'comes out'. It's a cocktail lawn party, just close friends and family, but believe me she'll be flouncing this guy all over the place to rub her new found fortune in everyone's face."

"I'm glad to see that havin' a new man in her life hasn't changed her at all." I tell Logan. Margo Cale is the token version of the upper crust snit. The woman lives to put others down. After I had married Logan she had me over to her crib to show her friends how even a 'average girl' can be transformed into a proper member of society. Too bad I didn't come back after that.

"Let me guess, Margo is Logan's 'aunt.'" Jondy states, saying 'aunt' with an English accent.

"She's the original WASP blueblood inbred female." I agree. "Kind of woman who'd sell out her kids to the Black Market if she thought they'd turn to profit."

"I think Logan resents being related to that remark." Jondy cuts in.

I smile at that and then turn to my husband. "Why does she want me along for this shindig, doesn't she hate my guts or somethin'?"

"You're the wife of her 'dear nephew' " Logan answers. "So your coming along will be tolerated."

"How charming." I return. I wonder if this toleration thing swings both ways. Cause there are a few things I'd like to see if Margot Cale can 'tolerate.'

"This sounds like a bangin' partay." Jondy cuts in, smiling like a little kid who just found their secret candy stash still hidden in their church coat. "Mind if I crash, or is it invite only?"

"It is," I say to her. "But I invite you to crash."

Jondy smiles at me again. "Then let's get crunk."

= = = =

LOGAN

KENDRA AND WALTER'S APARTMENT
14TH AND WEST STREET
SECTOR NINE

"There's my cutie pie!" Kendra gushes over Lucy as soon as Max gets the door open. Max wheels in our daughter in her baby stroller with Kendra attached to her the entire way.

"God she is adorable." Kendra cooes again, kneeling next to Lucy, and tickles her stomach. Kendra hadn't been there for Lucy's birth - she had managed to get away to San Piedro Island with Walter for three weeks and had come back two days after Max delivered. She had stopped in to see us the very next morning and had fallen in love with Lucy the minute she saw her.

Lucy laughs that adorable laugh of hers. "You're just too much sweetie." Kendra looks like she's about three seconds away from a melt down. She un straps the baby and picks her up. "Walter, they're here!" She yells over her shoulder at her... lover - I guess. They've been living together for five years so I suppose that would be a good title for him. Although I would rather not think about exactly how he acquired that role because there are too many bad thoughts floating around in the world already.

"She's already eaten twice this mornin', and I just changed her." Max begins to rattle off all the things that pertaining to Lucy's care for the afternoon. Jessie and Lexi both had school today, but Margo insisted that I bring Lucy along so she could have a 'proper coming out'. However, Max and I both agreed that we didn't want to subject a newborn infant to the drudges of a ritzy Cale party so we opted to leave her with Kendra and Walter for the day, and Margo claimed she 'understood'.

"Got it," Kendra informed about Max's instructions.

"We're gonna have a good time aren't we?" She rubbed the baby's back, bouncing her around.

Jondy emerged through the front door, not bothering to knock because she already knew who was in there. "If we're goin' to this bitch we need to move out, some blue and white meter maid is tryin' to ticket my bike." That's my straightforward sister-in-law for you, but then again I married into this family I should know what swings with them by now.

"You're Jondy right?" Kendra asks. "Max's sister?" Before Jondy could respond Kendra went on. "We met at the baby shower."

"Right." Jondy agreed, finally remembering where she had seen the blonde before. "You're the one who's shacked up with that kinda overweight sector cop."

"Somebody call me?" Walter steps into his tiny living room, dressed down from his usual work uniform in ancient looking jeans and a long sleeved plaid button up shirt that, to me, makes him look like a lumber jack minus the ax and the ox named Babe. Walter is now laughing - a deep rolling sound like what he said is the funniest thing in the world. He looks adoringly at Kendra; actually 'adoringly' doesn't accurately describe it - he looks like he wants to have sex with her right there against the fake pine baseboards. I should've just waited in the car - I mean I could've gone all day without seeing that.

Walter smiled at the sight of his girlfriend holding my daughter. "You're a natural angel pie." He tickled Lucy's chin with a hair-covered finger and she actually smiled at him. Not that Walter is a bad guy, at least not any more, but I don't picture him pushing a baby stroller with Kendra anytime soon. "Hell of a girl you got there Max." Walter says to my wife. "Maybe my sweetheart and I should think about having some of our own."

Max smiles back but I can see she's repulsed by it. "There's plenty of time for that Walter. You might wanna try just bein' alone with your girl as much as you can for now."

Walter's smile turns seductive because he's thinking about what Max just said. Would somebody please gouge my eyes out now? I don't think I can take any more cutesy, lustful stuff between those two. "You're probably right there. I tell ya shaking down this little lady is always the best part of my day."

Max cringes at that thought, looking just as uncomfortable as me and I'm glad I'm not the only one who's on the verge of losing their breakfast. "I'm glad for you."

"Guys." Jondy reminds us that she's still in the room. "Remember - me double parked? Now I'm not one to break up a party but if that pussy foot Rent-A-Cop marks my ride with paper his head is gonna roll."

"She's right." I say to Max, silently thanking Jondy for getting me out of this disgusting situation. "I told Margo we'd be there at noon."

"Well then we better not disappoint the dear hearted heiress." Max says this with an over exaggerated light tone but one with its fair share of sarcasm. She takes Lucy from Kendra for one last goodbye, cradling the baby to her shoulder. "Be good for Aunt Kendra and Walter okay sweetie? And don't you dare start learnin' to read before I get back."

"I seriously doubt that's gonna happen sweetheart." I inform.

"Shut up and kiss your daughter good-bye." Max orders, holding up Lucy from her body.

I kiss her growing brown hair. "Bye honey. If you do learn to read before we pick you up let me know how my stock's doing." I am surprised when Lucy starts cooing at me, which is followed by such an endearing smile that I now want to ditch my snit of an aunt's party in favor of staying home to just stare at my baby daughter. But of course I can't do that. I'm Logan Cale, the last living link to Jonas's brother Robert; there are obligations to fulfill and people to pretend to be nice to.

Max reluctantly gives Lucy back to Kendra. This is the first time we have left her with anyone since she was born and it is hard for her to let go - not because she's selfish, but because being born in Manticore makes her appreciate every second of life she could spend being with the people that she loved. Just looking at her painfully giving up Lucy over to her friend makes my heart ache, but also fills me with more then just sympathy for her. Her protective mother mode has always been very sexy to me. Now I'm finding it extremely hard to remember that we're abstaining and even harder to keep my hands off of her.

You don't have to worry about a thing Max." Kendra reassures, setting Lucy back down in her stroller. "Just go and try to have a good time."

"Kendra I'm goin' to Margot Cale's house to work, not have a good time." Max returnsin all honestly.

I can't help but smile. There was a time when I use to kiss up to my Aunt Margo, mainly because she and Uncle Jonas were paying my way through private school and Yale, but now that I'm married and financially secure I can totally agree that going to one of Margot's shindigs is as entertaining as cleaning out the lint trap from the dryer.

But Margot invited Max and me personally to her house so I guess I should be nice to her and her new boyfriend. After all, she is like family.

= = =

WINSFIELD ESTATE

(RESIDENCE OF JONAS AND MARGO CALE)

SECTOR FIVE

12: 02 PM

I drive the Aztec on the long circular road through the quarter acre of winding rose bushes on my aunt's property. Rows of Arboretum trees rise up in back of the rose bushes like wooden guards at their posts. The road that I'm driving on is stone, laid down by Jonas's contractor eight years ago, but where he managed to find tumbled river stones during the middle of the American Pulse crisis I'll never know.

"A place like this sold on the Black Market three years ago." Max informs from beside me in the passenger seat, looking out at the immaculately groomed lawns of Margo's gardens where prized hybrid roses and Azalea bushes shoot up in lined rows. "Gangsters picked it up to the tune of seventy g's. and turned it into an all night party and skank house."

"When we get inside I'll let Aunt Margo know that she has a market option for this place with the pimps and prostitutes." I don't look at Max when I say this for two reasons: one because I know from past experience that this curved road cuts sharply to the left right before it reaches the house and driving on it is very tricky. And second because my very gorgeous and vivacious wife has chosen to wear, over her tank top and pants, her full length chocolate leather coat that I bought her for when she was pregnant with Jessie. Max owns nothing extremely fancy, except for that red dress she had worn to my Bennett's wedding - and that one navy blue number that Senator Richard Patterson had maxed out his politically safeguarded Visa Platinum to buy her so she could attend that Congressional fundraiser. But they were all too high end for a simple lawn party so she had kept on what she was wearing only adding the coat. The effect of the long leather on her sleek well-toned curves is amazing, and I couldn't look at her because 'amazing' always makes me want her.

Max smiles, still looking out the window. She soon spots the two-story white estate house that Margo called home. "Dayum," she states. "Nice to know that even with Jonas' untimely demise Margo still found a way to hold onto her purse strings and her mansion strings."

"This is where I lived after mom and dad died." I tell Max, slowing the car to a stop in front of a double set of four white washed stairs. "Well actually 'lived' doesn't adequately describe it. As soon as I got here Margo and Jonas sent me to a private academy in Issaquah. But I got to come home on weekends so they'd have these parties, like today, trying to shove Yale or Princeton board members down my throat in 'encouragement' for me to go."

Max turns to face me then. "I thought you went to Yale?"

"I did go to Yale." I inform. Damn, she's so sexy, maybe I could just lock the doors and let my aunt catch us after we're finished - wait, what was I saying? Oh yeah college. "I graduated summa cum laude with the Class of 2010, but it wasn't my first choice. I had a full scholarship for NYU for a major in journalism but they wouldn't hear of me entering a non-Ivy league school so they got me into Yale at the last minute by making a bribing contribution to the Dean of Students."

"Poor baby," Max cooes beside me. "You've had such hardships in your life."

"NYU had one of the best schools for journalism Max." I tell her. "Yale's program was so rigid and stuck up that I switched my major to business finance in at the end of the first term. After I got my degree I applied to NYU to double board in journalism and computer programming technology and with my Yale undergraduate work they accepted me right away."

"I'm sorry baby but I still don't see the tear jerker response warranted for a wealthy teenage intellectual bein' denied access into the school of his dreams. But then again I obviously have a pathetic grasp of upper-class ideology."

She broadsides me with that remark. Sometimes I seem to forget that she wasn't born into a life of privilege the way I was - and she really didn't give a crap about being left out of the high-end social circle. So I don't say anything because there was nothing to add to that.

The curve of the driveway finally leads us to the front steps of Margo's two story egg shell painted estate house. Huge Roman columns support a triangular canopy style roof that juts out to provide shade for the stairs. The last time I was here was four years ago- the day I had decided to propose to Max. I came to ask Margo for mom's engagement ring, but after driving all the way up here and sitting through an hour of Aunt Margo grilling me on every aspect of my soon-to-be-fiancée she informed me that she had given it to Bennett the day he proposed to Maryanne. I was so pissed off I could've thrown her across the room, but being the dutiful nephew that I was I just thanked her and left. And the place still looks as overly luxurious as it did then with its only rivals being the White House and Windsor Palace.

A manservant comes quickly out through the door dressed in a navy single-breasted suit and approached the car as soon as I cut off the engine. I step out right into his path, startled by how close he felt he had to get to my face.

"Welcome to Winsfield Sir. All of the guests are being received in the lawn at the back of the estate. You can access it through the main house via a back set of French doors."

"Thank you." I respond quickly. I am never comfortable around servants. They get paid to do nothing but kiss up to people and treat them like the can't do anything without some assistance, and I stopped being a baby a long time ago.

Jondy's bike is parked right in front of mine and as soon as the servant sees her on it his face screws up slightly. "Madam, the biker clubs are all on the east side of town. You can get there in fifteen minutes if you hurry."

"Excuse me that's my sister-in-law you're speaking to." I cut in angrily. Even servants who catered to the rich have developed an idiotic prejudice for anyone they didn't believe would tip them well.

The servant realizes his mistake, and I know he's about to try and kiss up and apologize. "My apologies Sir I thought-"

"I know what you thought, but right now I suggest you go back to doing your damn job and stop insinuating on situations you know absolutely nothing about."

The servant now looks like a whipped dog, but he was so insolent and obnoxious he deserved it. "Yes Sir." It was the only thing he knew he could say to me without landing into even more trouble. "If you'll permit me to escort you and your party to the lawn-"

"We're perfectly capable of finding it on our own." I snap back. I know he just wants a chance to slander us some more to Aunt Margo before he tells her we've 'formally arrived'. "Just leave us to our own business and find a tarp to cover her motorcycle, it looks like it might rain."

The servant bows to me slightly, mumbling a feeble: "Yes Sir." before turning to walk across the lawn to Jonas' old garden shed where they keet the tarps they covered the roses with in wintertime.

Jondy watches him leave like a bird on the run from a cat. "Damn Logan I didn't know you were so authoritative." She sounds impressed.

"I've been around servants before Jondy, they'll look for any chance to kiss your ass once they find out they're obligated too, and I had enough of it growing up."

"Still it's a turn on." Max announces from beside me. "I mean the man called you 'Sir'."

"What would you have done if he called me Mr. Cale?"

"Margo would disown you if I told you." Max responds with a smile that would melt steel.

God she's so hot, why must she keep doing this to me? Three weeks dammit remember three more weeks and I can act on all those looks.

= = = =

MAX

It would figure that Margo Cale would have such a ritzy estate. I doubt the woman ever bought anything that wasn't at full retail price. Even her lawn furniture that I now see stretched out before me in the well-manicured lawn looks like it was swiped from Louis the Fifteenth's Palace. The over priced tables and chairs are all filled with men and women dressed in pale white Dior or stone gray Armani eating what looks like canapés from china plates. Man if this is all there is to the parties the rich try to keep everyone from they don't hafta fight so hard to keep out the masses - they just need to invite them once and everyone would leave out of boredom.

"Posh." Jondy looks over the group laughing at snippish jokes. "Wonder how many of them thought to watch their bags." All of the women's purses are just casually discarded beside them. "Lyin' around like that somebody might just decide to take advantage of a free offer."

"Most likely it's all platinum debit cards girl." I let her know. "By the time you hack into them and falsify your name they would've transferred their money to a Swiss bank account."

"Hey I like a challenge." Jondy returns. Next to bomb disarment, she is an expert pickpocket as all my siblings are.

"Ladies, can we keep our plans of theft and identity fraud to ourselves right now?" Logan asks while I'm admiring the way he looks in a camel hair blazer and matching pants with a steel blue button up shirt that he changed into for this affair. The top button of his shirt was undone folding the fabric out into a sexy V-shape that gave me just a peak and his chest. He's been out of the chair for almost six years now but he still weight trained every morning with Bling and the result are that he is now nicely chiseled. Damn, I shouldn't have peaked, now I'm gonna hafta fight an urge to jump his bones. I'm not in heat, but this is worse then that. At least with heat I knew that it was my DNA that made me go on the sexual prowl. But this is just pure raw lust I'm experiencing and 12 hours isn't gonna eradicate it.

I avert my eyes and look out over the crowd of women. Yep, nothing like staring at poorly done silicon implants and face lifts to take your mind off a dirty deed. Most all of the women are blonde or pathetically dyed blonde. One of the women stands out from the rest though. She's blonde like the others, but her hair is streaked with bits of red and brown, which she has pinned up into two black chopsticks. She is taking a drink from a Champagne glass when she spotts Logan and brakes out into this huge grin.

"Hey dork you made it!" She sets her Champagne glass down and comes over to Logan. I still have no idea who the hell she was but just the fact that she called Logan a 'dork' makes me like her. Mean's that she wasn't so inbred that she didn't like slamming people in good humor. "Glad to see you got dragged into this too." She hugs him to which he responds.

"Then you are enjoying yourself." Logan says to the woman.

"Cut the crap Logan and introduce me." She returns.

Okay now I officially like her. At first I harbored an insane notion that she was Logan's mistress, but that's completely stupid. If my man was steppin' out on me he'd be in the hospital right now.

"Allie Lancaster, this is my wife Max and her sister Jondy." Logan finally reveals the woman's name.

"Max," Allie smiles at me. "Glad to finally meet you. The last time I met up with Logan you were conveniently absent." She turns slightly to Jondy. "And you too girl, didn't want to leave you out. You look like someone who can liven up this dull fest."

"I do my best table dances at dull fests." Jondy announces with a smile.

Allie returns the smile before shifting her gaze back over to Logan. "Margo was wondering where you were, I'm sure she was about to send out a search party in five more minutes."

"Well Aunt Margo can rest assured that I was on my way here the entire time I was 'lost'." Logan responds to Allie. Now I'm glad I know her name and all but I still have no idea as to how the hell they know each other.

"Oh she knew it." Allie agrees with him. "She just wanted to make sure you weren't 'defiling' the Cale family name by doing something as 'obscene' as having a quickie with your wife here."

"Well she'd be a lil disappointed." I say to Allie. "We're kinda starvin' off for six weeks per medical advice." Why did she have to mention sex right now? I'm already so close to welding on a chastity belt to control myself.

Allie turns to Logan with a 'surprised-as-hell' look on her face. "Logan Robert Cale - you mean to tell me you did that to your woman again?" Her voice sounded like Zack when he was reprimanding me, but laced with a more playful side. Allie turns back to me. "I'm sorry Max - I mean not because of the birth outcome I think it's great - but because I should've taught my boy here more self control when he was my charge."

"Allie was my baby sitter when I was a kid," Logan finally clarifies his relation to the woman. "She and Marie were best friends and my sister thought a fun way to torture me would be to sic her under qualifited girlfriend on me every time mom and dad went away."

"You better take that back before I embarrass you in front of your wife." Allie threatens. "She could always find someone better."

"Better than what?" I throw in.

Allie smiles while checking me out - not in a lustful way like I've seen Original Cindy do when a hot momma walks across her path - but she was definitely pleased at what she saw. "I may have been a little lax in my baby sitting protocol Logan, but I must say I taught you well with your choice in women."

Logan slides an arm around my waist. "I thought so too."

His lips brush the side of my forehead a second later - and they're warm and soft, sensual -Focus Max, you're post partum. What would be the benefit of sneakin' a little somethin' somethin' if you are too sore to enjoy it? Damn but that sounds like a load of horseshit right now - still I know it's true.

"You see what I have to put up with?" I say. "All that sentimental piety can really grind on a girl's nerves."

"It's the Church of Logan Cale Max." Allie stated. "You don't want to enter but once you get inside you never want to stop worshipping."

She had such a way with words. But despite the fact that I didn't know how she knew about Logan in that way I still liked her. She was his babysitter; after his mom died he probably went to her for things like that.

"Speaking of worshipping." Allie changes the subject. "Your cousins Bennett and Maryanne have been here since the party started. Maryanne's five months pregnant now and Margo has all but promised her a seat on Jonas's board because of the little Cale heir she's got inside her."

Allie's now starin' at the young brunette woman talking to Margo Cale. Maryanne is dressed in a breezy silk summer dress despite the fifty- degree wind-chill in the air. But she's got a suede coat on, guess it's keepin' her warm enough, and her stomach that had gotten into a size three gown for her wedding is now bulging out of her dress. Poor girl, I know what it's like to try and make nice with Logan's snooty relatives when you're that uncomfortable.

"Wow." Logan remarks beside me. "Things have certainly changed since I saw them last." He looks to me. "We should probably go say 'hi' I mean before they spot us and make a big scene of Maryanne's place in the family soft spot with her pregnancy."

"What kind of shit is that?" Jondy asks in disbelief. "Maxie's given your high ball divin' rich relatives three chances to coodle her already, how come she didn't get that big of a fuss?"

"That's because it's all about the husband girl." I inform. "Bennett is the favorite son of Jonas and Margo and they just 'appreciate' Logan for bringin' backup beneficiaries into the family."

"Seriously?" Jondy says, sizing up Margo who looks like a well-bred hooker in a white chenille ascot front blouse with a matching calf length skirt, suede suit jacket and white one-inch platforms.

I nod. "First card I ever got from her after Jess was born said: 'Congratulations on your Promotion.'"

"That's it. I'm gonna hafta lay out the white washed bitch." Jondy proclaims.

"Let Max and I get her into a false sense of security before you unleash any 'laying out' Jondy." Logan insists. "Remember I have to still be related to her when you're done."

"Whatever your thing is." Jondy responds. "I'm gonna go hunt down one of those servers with Champagne. Just because I hafta see a bunch of snobbish moronic rich people doesn't mean I hafta see them sober." She turns and left with Allie who considered her plan somethin' she's down with as well.

"C'mon let's get this bitch over with before I change my mind." I say leading the way with Logan through a cluster of people I didn't know and would never want to know.

Margo is laughin' at something Logan's cousin Bennett just said when I step behind her. "Sorry I missed the joke."

Margo turns to me then, a tight-lipped smile coming on her face. "Max, you made it."

Was that disappointment I detected in her voice? Well I'm game for a lil snobbery. "Funny how that works out when you're invited." I'm smiling sweetly enough. I'm way better at facades then Margo - her forced smile looks like a crack split in her face.

She laughs as tightly as her smile and moves to kiss me on both cheeks like neither of us have a problem with it. "Welcome dear, I trust you brought my nephew with you."

No Margo, that tall handsome man behind me is the damn gardener. This doesn't faze Logan at all. He obviously has a lot of practice at being ignored by his family until it's convenient for them to notice him.

"It would be hard to tear myself away from this Aunt Margo." Logan announces his presence to her and kisses her cheek softly, makes me want to hork at how he's forcin' himself to make nice with her.

He then turns his attention to Maryanne who is smiling widely at him try to attract his attention.

"Maryanne." Logan smiles at her, getting her name right the first time unlike at her wedding. "You look smashing."

"You're among family Logan." Maryanne insists. "You don't have to be polite with me, I know I must look like a big tractor trailer." She pats her large stomach.

"Don't listen to her Logan." Bennett speaks up from beside his wife. "She's just fishing for compliments."

"Honey you're terrible." Maryanne complains.

"You shouldn't rag on your wife Bennett. I invite myself into the conversation. "Carryin' a kid around for nine months is a full time job with crappy pay."

Bennett is now smiling at me. His eyes are blue like Logan's but not as heart stoppingly bright, they're more like a muted cornflower. But he's still handsome in a powder blue Ralph Lauren button down shirt and white khakis. "The famous wit of the Mrs. Logan Cale." Bennett announces. "Who by the way is the second most radiant woman here."

I smile at that, I can't help it - Jonas' family or no, a compliment is a compliment. "And the lifetime standing charm of Bennett Cale. I'd say that's cause for another celebration, even though I knew nothin' about the first one until just now."

"Bennett wanted to call you a few weeks ago Max but from what I understand you were a little busy with having your baby." Maryanne says.

"That's right." Bennett adds, turning to Logan to slap him on the shoulder. "I never gave you a formal congratulations dad, another daughter. You're practically surrounded by girls."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing." I rectify.

"I'm not saying it is Max." Bennett informs to me. "But you know how it is, a boy has more responsibility. Hell if ours turns out to be a girl that son of yours is gonna be the one to carry on the Cale family legacy."

It's not like that was as arrogant as some of the crap Uncle Jonas laid out on Logan when he was alive, but what Bennett said fell into that category between arrogance unconsciousness snobbery and it was pissin' me off. "It must be hotter then out here then I thought, cause it seems to have melted that glacier enough for you to step off it."

Margo laughs, something all rich heiresses seem to have been taught how to do to take the edge out of a situation. "Oh Max, you do have a way with your words dear."

"Oh don't I." I agree, forcing a smile. Kinda wish there was somethin' boling I could throw in her face. "Excuse me."

"Where are you going sweetheart?" Logan asks in puzzlement.

"The mother of the Great White Hope for the Cale family name needs a drink." I watch Bennett's face become slightly embarrassed after the slam I just nailed him with. They were your words buddy I was just adding on to them.

I step over the shaded lawns, through the crowd of people I had pushed by before, a few of the chic rich women stop to stare at me, some even going so far as to whisper some stuff that I heard completely because of my heightened DNA.

I turn around to stop in front of a particularly bleached out blonde in a lilac garden dress. "I did come with Logan Cale but I don't know how much he would pay for an escort 'cause as his wife I would never ask him somethin' like that." The woman's smile fades along with her friends, but mine grew. "Glad I could help you ladies out." I move past them before they could try to say anything stupider then they already have. Bunch of pansy ass twits.

A server walks by me with a full tray of Champagne, stopping it right under my nose "Would the lady care for some?"

I take a flute from the middle. "Thanks." He bows at me for a moment then disappears to deliver the rest of his load. The fizz tickles my nose as I take a hit of the Crystal - the finest Champagne still in existence - so it'd be fitting that Margo Cale would have this on hand for her 'simple lawn party'.

The French doors that lead back into the estate have been left open to allow the guests to move freely to the restrooms or to just lounge all over the expensive Ashley furniture in the living room. My boots click on the gray-stripped marble laid out just inside the threshold. There's a good three feet of this stuff that stops just in front of the pristine white leather sofa where a expensively dressed couple are eatin' canapés and discussing the Goghan that hangs in front of them over the brick laid fire place.

"Have an expensive cracker." Jondy waves a finger-sized saltine covered with Alaskan King Salmon spread at me.

I finish the cracker in two bites cause I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast and I'm starving. Aren't parties supposed to have more food then this?

"So how'd you make out with the rich?" Jondy asks, throwing back another slam of Champagne.

"Same as I always do." I say, sipping from my own Champagne flute.

"My apologies." Jondy says. "Need me to take down anyone for ya?"

"I got it covered." I inform. "Logan's family's rich, but they're not the strongest in the gene pool."

"That's why they can't handle us girl, they know we can kick their asses."

I smile at that, but then it quickly fades when I see Bennett approaching me. "Speak of the rich devil."

"Max." Bennett stops slowly right in front of me, like he's makin' sure I won't lay him out.

"Back for more fun I see." I say sweetly, but his cringe tells me he got the message. "Bennett Cale this is my sister Jondy. Bennett and Logan are cousins." I say to Jondy.

"Is that so?" Jondy asks, eyeing Bennett like a soldier in enemy territory. "Well then it's an honor Sir." She holds out her hand like a medieval Lady.

Bennett looks baffled for a moment, but then his well-schooled breeding kicks in and he kisses her hand. "The pleasure is all mine ma'am."

Jondy smiles and retracts her hand. She loves makin' people squirm. "I trust that you're gettin' along famously with Maxie here."

"Of course." Bennett agrees too quickly. "She's a great person to be around." He's now completely out of his element, this is our territory. "But if you wouldn't mind I'd like to talk your sister alone."

"Okay." Jondy agreed. "You can talk to her alone, but remember Bennett no one's really alone." She handed me her empty Champagne flute. "You might need this to bust over his head."

Bennett watches her leave and lets out the most relieved breath. "She's certainly an intense woman."

"It runs in the family." I tell him. "Along with pumping out a single male heir for every generation."

Bennett cringes again. "I deserved that." He stuffs his hands into his pocket like he's a nervous kid and I'm his first date since his balls dropped. "Look Max - about what I said out there. I know it's not an excuse, but when mom told me that she had found a new 'beau' and was bringing him over to meet me I got catapulted right out of my calm life, and with this baby coming everything's just so damn hectic that I guess I unconsciously considered you a good vent for all my emotions."

"Sometimes you hafta remember that you're not livin' in a dream Bennett." I rationalize in a pissed off tone. "You can't just vent on your cousin's wife just cause she's there."

"I know, I know." Bennett agrees. "And I'm sorry. Mom and Dad have a lot of problems with you because you didn't come from the Debutante school of wives like Maryanne. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but mom sees her so well suited for me that there's not even any scandal involved. But you and Logan constantly stir up the waters and I guess I'm kind of jealous because I'm not brave enough to be the eccentrics of the family."

"You should be happy that your mom's movin' on with her life. She can't sit in a wake for your dad forever." I say in a quick subject change.

"The guy's a boorish rich snob." Bennett states. "Not that dad wasn't exactly the same way, but at least because he was my father I could love him despite all of his less then perfect mannerisms. But mom's new boyfriend is an entirely different manner. I'm not some ten-year-old kid who he can suck up to so that I'll say it's okay for him to live with us and help me out with my Little League games, we're talking rich money dating rich money with no care as to what the children of the parties think. And I always pictured mom as one of those women who would become a headstrong heiress after her husband died, taking over his company and pining for him. Damn was I wrong there. Be lucky your family's not wealthy Max, there's too many deceptions you have to follow."

"Other people have their deceptions too Bennett, " I tell him. "For example I don't know who I'm foolin' with this coat on to hide my baby fat." I was really saying this as a way to get him out of his self-loathing over his life. In actuality I had gone back down to my normal weight a week after Lucy was born. All female soldiers at Manticore had a DNA sequence encoded in them for fast weight loss after birth because if we were ever made to give birth it would slow down any battle plans if half of the soldier population was carrying extra pounds.

"Are you kidding me, you're stunning." Bennett falls for my hook and graces me with another one of his well thought out compliments. "No one would've ever guessed that you even had a baby."

"If this is a way to get back into my good graces keep it comin'," I return, finally accepting his apology. Bennett isn't a true hard snob; he is just a product of his upbringing like Logan.

Bennett is smiling too. "Logan never gave me a name for your daughter. Guess he's still mad at me for being born to Jonas."

I smile at that. From the way Bennett's been talking about his father I suspect that Logan's not the only one who's had issues with the man. "Lucy Sara Cale."

Bennett digested the name for a moment. "I'll bet she's living up to such a beautiful name. Logan must have been the deciding vote on the middle name."

I had given Lucy her middle name for my foster sister Sara, promised it to her the day we finally met up again. But now after hearing Bennett's words I realize the double implications of my daughter's name because it was also the name of Logan's mom.

Bennett doesn't sense my hesitation to his statement so he keeps going. "I wish you could've met her Max. Aunt Sara was so vibrant and fun, she always kept us laughing. Always made me wonder why she married into this snippish family."

Now he has me intrigued, I want to know more about the woman I've only heard seen in photographs. I've heard snatches of what she was like from Logan, but they're all spacey and he always sounds as pained to talk about her as I am when I mention Eva or Ben. "Were she and Logan close?"

"They were closer than any other mother and son I'd ever been around. But she never hovered over Logan's because his father, that's my uncle Robert, always told her that he was a man and men shouldn't be coddled. But Aunt Sara did her best to influence herself on Logan's life. She'd go out and shoot a few hoops with him after his studies when Uncle Rob wasn't looking. She was great at it too, point guard at UCLA. Allie brags that she was the one who taught Logan the moves, but in reality Aunt Sara showed him most of his skills."

"You're right. I wish I could've met her." I concur. "She would've been better company then this cheddar hording group."

"On behalf of part of this cheddar hording group Max, I totally agree with you." Bennett clinks his glass against mine and downs the rest of the Champagne better than Deck did with his flask of whisky while he watched us do invasive procedures. He hands off his now empty flute to a server who is heading towards the kitchen with a whole tray load of them.

"Thank you Sir." The white jacket wearing server states, like collecting dirty used crystal off of the rich was a gratifying career.

"No problem." Bennett announces, and turns back to me. Now if you'll excuse me m'lady I have people to pretend to like." He brushes past the sofa where a crowd has already gathered because they couldn't pretend anymore that 52-degree weather was ideal for having an outdoor party, and Logan is among the crowd.

= = = =

LOGAN

Bennett comes past me just as I make my way around the couch I'm sure Aunt Margo had to have assembled after it was in here - it's as big as a tanker truck.

He's obviously had a lot of Champagne because he's stumbling slightly. He could never handle a Champagne flute or a high ball as well Uncle Jonas. I smell all of his drink undertakings on his breath when he slaps me on the shoulder and leans right next to my ear.

"Forget what mom says Logan, Max is a keeper."

"Thanks for the tip." I have to push my cousin off of me. "You better go find some coffee I doubt Aunt Margo and Maryanne would find your new found sense of drunk straight forwardness as amusing as I am."

"Logan I'm not drunk." Bennett insists. "I'm just nicely, nicely tipsy."

"Stella is brewing a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen." Stella is Aunt Margo's housekeeper, a very pretty Hindu born woman who only keeps the job because she has a two-year-old to feed.

I have to steer him in the direction of the kitchen and after I'm sure he can make there without falling over his own feet I leave him to continue my originally planned journey to Max.

She watches my every step with those sexy eyes of hers and now I'm the one who has to make sure that I don't fall over.

"I see you two made up." I remark about seeing her with Bennett who hopefully isn't breaking any of his mother's expensive china coffee cups as we speak.

"I'll respect my soldiers on the wrong side of society."

"Funny, I never pictured Bennett Cale as a shut-in member of the rich elites."

"Maybe you just never wanted to."

That remark halts me. Not that I believed for one minute that my cousin led this entire double life where at night he cooked in soup kitchens and read to the orphans of the Pulse Rioters. But still, Bennett knew the rigors of growing up male in the Cale family that - for all its wealth and privilege - was a hard and obligated life.

"Maybe you're right. I just naturally assumed that mine was the only life Aunt Margo and Uncle Jonas screwed over."

"There's a different form of screwing over reserved for the son." Max says in her all knowing voice.

"If there was I never saw it. Bennett and I never really hung when I was home for the weekend. He was always away at some college recruiting reception or a soirée to try and find a suitable wife."

"I don't get all that suitable wife crap." Max states, her brown eyes burning the way they always did when she was passionate about something, and I couldn't help but think how striking that made her look. "How do you know if a girl is suitable before you even know really anything about her?"

"Believe me sweetheart there are a guidelines that have been established. And money is at the top of those guidelines."

"They judged your mom with that B.S and they were totally off about her."

"Ahh but the thing is they don't think they were off about it, and no one will disagree with them because everyone is just as narrow minded. Mom threatened to call off her engagement to dad twice because of the way my grandparents treated her when she first met them."

"I'm glad she decided to stick around with the stuck up crowd." Max is now smiling that grin she does after we've just had really good sex. "'Cause I don't think I could deal with you not bein' born."

"I'm glad she decided to stick around too." I agree with her. Mom's been dead for years but when I think of her I don't think about the blood and the mangled mess of her body when I saw her at the morgue. In my mind she's still this beautiful woman that my schoolmates were jealous of because I had gotten the 'hot mom' and as a teenager I certainly didn't consider my own mother 'hot', but I did consider her beautiful, in every way. "Come with me I'd like to show you something."

Max is inquisitive about my remark, but before she can offer me any of her wit I add on: "I promise you it'll be worth your wile."

"In that case, lead on Mr. Cale." Max says, her smile still in place.

I slip my hand into hers and lead down a long hallway covered with five thousand dollar silver wallpaper. A few people pass by me, on their way back to the festivities, though what they find so fun about it I don't even want to know.

I finally stop in front of a handsome mahogany door with a brass carved handle. "In here."

"If you're tryin' to seduce me baby-"

"Sorry to say I'm not." I'm aching for it just as badly as her apparently. Good. At least I'm not alone in my misery. "We'll just have to disgrace Aunt Margo's expensive antique divans on a later date." As I talk I twist the knob and push open the heavy door into the 'cocktail room'. When I was a kid I had watched Sound of Music - mom's favorite movie of all time - and Captain Von Trapp's lavish estate had this guilded ball room that mirrored what this room looked like, with the exception of a pale yellow Venetian plaster on the walls. The floors are solid maple that echo off of my shoes as I walked with Max across it.

"Hasn't Margo ever hear of minimalisitic?" Max comments as she takes in the great expanse of room. Three long French style windows that looked over the east gardens stand against the back wall, partly hidden Queen Anne's lace curtains. Despite the grandeur of the room it was sparsely furnished with a few expensive blush red chenille upholstered high back sofas and a single leather chair that sat at the far ends of the room leaving the middle of it completely bare. The wall that isn't taken up by furniture was almost completely hidden by Uncle Jonas' ebony wood wine cabinet and fully stocked bar.

"Max to her this is minamilistic." I say honestly. The room still has traces of smoke from the Cubans' Uncle Jonas would smoke in his leather chair -which didn't match the décor at all but he had fought tooth and nail with Aunt Margo to keep it in here. I can still see him sitting there puffing away on the thing and enjoying a brandy sniffer. He used this room a lot to hold meetings in or to just debate on the best prices of wine with his relatives.

"I'd hate to see her approach on over doing it." Max's words draw me out of my reverie. She's now standing at the bar looking through Jonas' liquor supply. She pulls out a twenty-year-old bottle of Merlot and examined it.

"That's a good year." I tell her, walking over to her. "Uncle Jonas put in a request with the wineries in Tulo Italy to have that made."

Max nods approvingly, but it fades a moment later. "Not that looking through your bastard of an uncle's private hooch stash hasn't been a blast, but I hope you had another reason for dragging me in here."

"Actually the reason is right above your head."

I watch her set down the Merlot, turn on her heel and stare straight on into the Norman Rockwell painting that once belonged to mom. It isn't an original, but it is a certified copy re-painted and released by the Norman Rockwell foundation to raise money for charity. Mom had bought it for five thousand dollars, but after the adversaries of the Pulse wiped out every piece of American culture even artwork copies became extremely rare, which is why Margo got ripped off when she bought it off of that online auction. It's still in the dark pinewood frame that dad bought for her and doesn't look any worse for wear then it did when it was new.

"It's nice." Max says looking at the painting. She probably thinks I just wanted her to see it so I could go into a long winded speech about how this is a piece of Americana that the Pulse didn't exterminate.

"It was mom's. She fell in love with this at an auction. It use to hang in the living room right above our sofa and sometimes I'd find her staring at it even though she was pretending to studiously read Dickens or some other classic dad had given her. But mom's true passion was art, it was her major in college and she kept stacks of art books next to dad's original bound copies of Moby Dick and Othello. She willed it to me after she died, but after Val and I started having problems I had to sell it to pay off her AA bills, and Aunt Margo snapped it up as soon as she saw it at auction."

"With all the back stabbin' Margo does I'm surprised she still has time to host big parties like this." Max's eyes have adopted something in them, something almost like pity, but I knew it wasn't that. She never pitied anyone, even if they were on the verge of dying, because feeling sorry for them wouldn't make it better. She looks the painting up and down almost like she wants to lift it for profit. "I see now where you got your artistic taste from." Her eyes turn from the painting to me with an expression that hovers between a smile and a laugh. "And here I thought it was acquired over time like the appreciation for a good wine after really good sex."

She would have to say sex right now when I'm trying to forget it and just get lost in the piece of my past in front of me. "Sorry to disappoint you then."

"I'm not disappointed," she makes this clear to me. She gazes full on at the painting again. "I'm mean the woman loved you enough to leave you somethin' so close to her to remember her by."

Something tugs at my heart right then, but it's so muted that I can't make it out. It may be sadness and if it is I don't want to make it out, because I'm not about to fall apart over mom's painting in the same place where Uncle Jonas saw his way to getting trashed every night. "I'd rather have more than just oil on canvas to remember her by."

Max looks at me with such truehearted compassion, completely untainted by obligated emotions of a wife to her husband. She's knows what I'd rather have than a painting, but she won't say it because she respects my need for silence. "Hope I turn out to be as good a mom as she was."

Normally I would say something utterly charming and loving to my wife and reassure her that she's a fantastic mother, but what Max said strikes me hard. I know she was trying to complement mom, but I don't want her to be as good as mom was, because 'was' is a word that's reserved for something that no longer exists. And I want mom to still exist.

Max is still staring at me, waiting for assurance that she wasn't screwing up our children's lives. When I don't say anything she seemed to take it as an answer. She steps away from the painting and I hear her footfalls start to echo as she takes several steps away from me. "Your Aunt Margo's probably gettin' ready to formally shove her boyfriend down our throats."

"Max." I step down from the bar and walk slowly over to her. She stops in her break for the door and looks up at me with a quiet inquisitiveness in her brown eyes. "You don't need to hope for something like that, you're already as good a mother as her." I trace my right thumb along her full bottom lip, feeling the slight thickness from her rose wine lipstick. "I guess I just got caught up in hearing her spoken in past tense after just coming off looking at something she cherished so much when she was alive."

This pulls at something inside her I can tell, her eyes have softened around the edges the same way they did when a lonely weather torn boy begged us for food money outside Crash one night. "I think she cherished you more then any damn painting Logan Cale, so I suggest you remember that."

That's my Max, she never offers me any sappy poetic verses on death and remembrance and I would never want her too. If I wanted to be around sap and sentiment constantly I would've married a greeting card company. "I'll try not to let you down." I lean down to kiss her forehead, but she tilts her head at the last second up so I wind up making contact with her eye.

She laughs gently at my mistake. "You need some target practice."

"Next time I'll set the marker lower."

I hear a slight hitch in her breath from her at my remark and her eyes grow a little darker, but she tries to control it. "Baby, please, three more weeks okay?"

She is almost begging me to starve off, like she knows how badly I want her and how I had to reduce myself to pure mental seduction. I haven't ached this much since I first hit puberty. "You're right, Aunt Margo's probably going to send a search party to find us if we're not back soon. - You want some Champagne? It's out with everyone else?"

"You read my mind." Max agrees walking ahead of me to the door and - after I make sure I won't embarrass myself - I follow her.

We slip out of the cocktail lounge and make it down the long hallway without anyone noticing because all of the guests are still entertaining themselves with appetizers and alcohol.

"There you two are." Aunt Margo's call is directed at us. Guess that means someone did notice that we've been gone. She takes slow deliberate steps towards Max and I. One of her arms is entangled with a man that I have never seen before so I assume that this is her new fling. He is taller then I would've imagined, about an inch or so above my height, but still is as expensively dressed as I pictured Margo's beau to be in a double breasted charcoal gray Brooks Brother's suit and matching silk tie. Even his corporate short hair matches his suit; guess he wanted to go for a set of colors.

Max leans over to me and says in a low voice: "Remember there's a lot to be said about the enemy you know."

"Just don't say them now sweetheart," I mange to get out before we're pounced on by Aunt Margo and her gentleman friend.

"I was just about to have Stella go look for you two." Margo declares. "I couldn't let Trent here go through the party without meeting my favorite nephew."

"Well then we came back just in time." Max announces.

"Oh forgive me, where are my manners." Margo apologizes as if she hadn't planned her little 'mistake' the entire time. "May I introduce you both to Trent Dalton. Trent this is my nephew Logan and his ah, wife Max." It pains Aunt Margo to say that last part, but it doesn't amount to the pain I want to inflict on her for shunning Max.

"Pleasure to meet you." Trent Dalton shakes my hand first, a hearty, but authorative grip, before moving on to shake Max's. "And you as well Max. I'm sorry, but Margo's told me very little about you. She barely even spoke of her nephew being married."

"She was probably just so busy plannin' this party that it must've just slipped her mind that she even knew me." Max says sweetly, but everyone can detect the deliberate sarcasm in her voice.

Margo laughs like a true wealthy woman scorned; tightly and with a façade of appreciation for Max's sense of humor. "Logan dear you really must try and put a cork on all of her mirth once in a while or they're won't be anything left for later."

I join in the laughter, but just barely because there is something else I'd like to put a cork on. "You know how it goes Aunt Margo. You can't bottle up something as exquisite as Max, it would be a crime against humanity."

"Not to mention a crime against the eyes." Trent adds, kindly enough, but there's a rich person's sleazy look hidden behind his eyes that I don't like. He's with my Aunt Margo but he's hitting on a married woman who's young enough to be his daughter; and more importantly, who's my wife. "She is exquisite isn't she? Got that exotic sexual allure that most men only dream about with a beautiful foreign prostitute."

I'm two seconds away from gouging his eyes out. He's not admiring her from afar anymore, he's fondling her in his mind and it's pissing me off and degrading my wife.

"I hope that's not an insinuation, because it'd give me leeway to say a few choice things about you." Max's voice is still charming, but there's an underlying growl in it.

Dalton laughed at this warning. "Oh no, Max, it's merely an observation. Some women would even consider it a compliment to be compared to something so obviously beautiful and well endowed."

"Show me a woman who agrees with that Mr. Dalton - and I'll show you a hard core skank."

Dalton's remark just blew up in his face. I can tell by the way he's squirming. So it's not surprising he takes a long drink from his highball so he won't have to deal with Max putting his mouth back on his ass where it belonged.

"Max dear-" Aunt Margo is obviously trying to say something that will tip this conversation back to her side. Good luck with that Margo. "I just want to compliment on how fantastic you look."

"Thank you." Max responds. She hates Aunt Margo but she an expert at playing nice to her face.

Margo shifts her attention over to her premadonna escort. "She just had a baby Trent, a little girl. Can you believe it? And already back down to that small size." She looks back to Max. "I'll bet she's a beautiful baby little Libby-"

"Lucy." Max corrects.

"Lucy?" Margo repeats the name like a bit of her lunch just came up in her mouth. "It's lovely dear. But I just assumed that you were naming her after Logan's Great Aunt Elizabeth Cale, the famous dancer with the Manhattan Ballet Company.

"Sorry, Logan never told me about the Manhattan Ballet Company." Max apologizes with the smallest amount of sincerity she can get away with. "I named her after my mom, Lucia Weston, but I'm afraid she hasn't been into any dance companies that I know of."

"That's wonderful Max, but I was under the impression that you never knew your mother because she abandoned you. Now what kind of woman accepts such a low life scoundrel such as that?"

Oh crap. Max just reached the maximum level of abuse she would tolerate before she started unleashing her full Manticore-perfected wit. Not that I mind, my maximum level of tolerance was reached the second Margo introduced us to Trent.

"You should really roll with changes." Max announces. "I can't imagine being stuck in the same mind numbing rut day after day. I'd go crazy if all I ever did was be chauffeured around like cattle in expensive cars and host dull parties just so I can count the number of people I still don't have to pay off to come to them."

The silence is louder then the noise right now, because at least with noise comes excuses to pay attention to them and not try to pick up the shattered pieces of your rich Aunt's over inflated ego. But fortunately Max finds some noise to latch onto; in the form of Jondy putting the moves on a young server carrying another one of those trays of Champagne.

"Oh look there's my sister Jondy." Max states. "I hate to break this up but I really should go spend some time with her before she has to go back to living in the sewer." She leans over and kisses Margo on the cheek, using Margo's own poison of over forced sweetness against her. "Thank you for the divine conversation Margo, I enjoyed it immensely." After pulling back from Margo's stunned look Max steps over to kiss; me without any fake airs about liking me. "I'll probably take some time baby so -"

"I'll look for you sweetheart." I finish for her. "I know this concrete jungle better then you."

The since Margo first spotted us first genuine smile comes across her face. She turns back to Margo and Trent. "Excuse me."

She leaves me alone with my aunt's wrath, but I'm finding a great distraction in watching the way her leather jacket hugs her just right as she walks across the room.

= = = =

MAX

Jondy is so absorbed in her server hot boy that she doesn't even notice my arrival. Pretty sad for a girl who's suppose to hear a pin fall on top of Mt. Everest. Still the guy is nice. Olive skin, dark black hair, kinda oily and greasy, but somethin' I could still get into if I wasn't already married to a hot boy of my own.

"Is your name really Pablo, or is that your form of Spanish for 'let me get into this baby girl's pants'?" Jondy never bought into believing that there was such a thing as an honest guy.

Pablo smiles at Jondy though, he's got nice teeth too, they're insanely white, but nice.

Jondy is smiling too. "Not that I really care if it was."

"'Scuse me," I step in-between my sister and the man she's thinking about doing it with. "Hi. Pablo is it?" Pablo cocks his head at her for a minute; he obviously doesn't understand me very well. Margo seems to have a thing for hiring workers that can't complain about their paychecks or working conditions because they don't know how to say it in English. "Can she give you a rain check on the deed you're contemplating behind that smile?"

"Si Senora." Pablo says to me. It doesn't take fluency in English for him to get the point. He heads towards a group of partygoers that were signaling him because their flutes were empty.

Jondy watches him go, her disappointment obvious in her face. "You just crapped on the best fun I was gonna have in weeks."

"Sorry to spoil you're hunt for good sex, but I need you for somethin'"

"Unless you've got a hot Latino boy in a white dinner jacket in your back pocket I ain't hearin' it."

"Cut the crap girl or I'll set you up in convo with Logan's Aunt Margo."

"Okay fine I'm in." Jondy always could be swayed with the right kind of persuasion. "But this better be global."

"It is." I agree pulling out my silver cell phone that Logan bought me years ago. "Margo's turned out this Norman Rockwell that Logan's mom left to him. It's hangin' in her drunk parlor and I'm gonna get it back."

"Then who are you callin'?"

"Someone who owes me a favor." I dial the number and wait for it to connect.

"State it before I hate it." The in-your-face male voice answers at the other end.

"Yo' Tyrone."

"Who is this?"

Spoken like a true gang member hot shot. Brady Tyrone doesn't remember anyone's name unless it's printed on a toe tag in the morgue. "I got your best girl back from the South Side Wars before she could become a causality."

There is silence for a moment. Tyrone's remembering' the night I plucked his six-year-old daughter from the hideout of a rival gang who had kidnapped her for fifty large during the three week long gang wars at South Market. "You should've told me it was you straight out girl. I don't spare the love for a savior of the streets."

"You can love me up later Tyrone, but I'm callin' in the favor you promised me."

"Name it and I'll supply it."

"Your head shop on M street still got that Rockwell copy in the window?"

"Not anymore baby, cause Tyrone's about to put it in your fine hands."

"Just one thing I ask, I'd like it to be a special order."

"Anything for you sweetness. Where'd you like me to make the drop?"

"Your couriers are the bomb but this time I'd like it sent by Jam Pony messenger by a sistah of mine named Original Cindy."

"Just name the locale and I'll get my guy on it."

"It's at 153 Rochelle Court. Place called Winsfiled Estate."

"Damn, you're movin' up in the world. Must be on account of that white boy with the deep pockets you shacked up with."

"Love is love Tyrone."

"I hear you on that momma. Everythin' is on me and it'll be rollin' up in the next hour."

"Appreciate it. And could you give my girl a little seed money for goin' above and beyond?"

"I got your back."

"Thanks." I hang up the call.

"See you got friends in low places." Jondy states as I replace my phone in my pocket. "This must be one helluva painting."

"It's not the painting." I inform. "It's the reason behind it." Normal Rockwell was a famed and very talented artist, but I could easily fence even the hardest to find prints of his anywhere in the city. This was about something deeper, settling a score that was owed to Logan.

"When's this hot deal rollin' up?"

"In the next hour. Just hafta make sure I'm the one who signs off on the drop. Margo's libel to turn it down if she doesn't know what it is."

"So how the hell are we suppose to kill an hour?"

"I can think of a few good ways." Allie Lancaster announces, holding up two bottles of Chablis she obviously snuck off with. "Well maybe not kill it, but we could get it good and smashed." She uncaps a bottle and poured it in an iced tea glass. "Any of you ladies want in on this action?"

"I'm good." I tell her. "I've pumped, but I'd rather not come home faded to bottle feed my baby."

"Guess that means more for me." Allie smiles slowly; but it isn't a drunken smile. She is obviously a girl who can handle her liquor. "I see you've abandoned being polite to this crowd and have moved on to the isolation phase." She takes a long drink from her glass. "It's their loss anyway for snubbing someone with actual taste and charisma."

"It's all about the way they look through the world through snob colored glasses." Jondy states.

"Amen to that." Allie agrees licking a bit of wine off her bottom lip with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Not that Logan counts as one of those snobs," she says in defense of my husband. "He was your typical young boy, practicing his piano skills, putting frogs in his sister's bed."

When Allie mentions frogs my mind conjures up an image of a very young Logan grasping desperately to a wiggling green frog to keep it from hopping away before he can stuff into his sleeping sister's sheets. I don't know if he wore glasses back then, but I could never picture him without them. They are kinda his trademark; so he must've had them at an early age to have them to be the extension of his face that they are now. "It's kinda hard to picture him doin' that now, he doesn't seem like the type to relax and let loose that much."

"It's the breeding from Margo and Jonas and loosin' his family that did it." Allie states, choosing to set her half-full glass down on a silver tray that one of the servers has abandoned on top of a cherry wood end table. "Before all that shit happened he was the wildest kid you could imagine, he still was the tortured artistic soul at heart but he wasn't so tense and serious as he is now. That thing I told you about the frog - Marie wasn't even afraid of frogs. It was a game they played when they were kids, they'd try to find the biggest wettest frog to stick in each other's bed just so their 'ribbit'noises would wake each other up. One time Logan even grabbed this huge horned toad from Sara's garden and had to have three stitches in his hand from where the thing jabbed him." Allie laughs at a memory that only she knows about. "Marie and him got reprimanded something fierce from their dad so they had to stop their nightly runs but Robert went out that same night and bought them each a ceramic frog to keep in their room so they'd remember it when they were too old to care about their childhood anymore."

"They didn't die immediately in the crash." Her voice shifts and becomes something sad as she changed the subject. All memories about childhood tricks are long gone. "It was a small commuter plane and when it went down it was in thick underbrush and the FAA weren't paying damn attention to small crashes because of all the air raids so it was three days before anyone even found them. Marie managed to get her mom's cell after they crashed and damn thing still worked and all she could think of was to call me. But when I answered the phone all I heard was this raspy voice. She must've been pinned by debris something because she was gasping, asking to talk to Logan, but he was at school and when I told her -" Allie bites her lip. "She wanted me to tell Logan that she was dying and she was sorry she wouldn't be there when he came home. And then I didn't hear anything after that but static." Allie doesn't notice a tear drop from her eye. "She could've told him that she loved him, but she knew he knew that. She was mad because it wasn't fair that she was leaving him alone. I was so in shock that I didn't even call the police, they called us the next day to report the crash -" Allie breakes off to take a swipe at her eyes. "Whoo sorry. Some things will never stay buried." She laughs but there isn't any humor or lightheartedness in it. "Think I need another gulp of that." She picks up her glass again and chugs the rest of the wine.

"We lost a sister too." Jondy states with the same sadness that Allie possessed - the ones of those that were left in the aftermath of a tragedy. "Her name was Eva, and she died when she was nine - she was shot."

Sometimes I still hear the shot echo down the hallway when Eva fell and hear the sliding of the gun landing at my feet. And it's this I'm thinking about, not Marie, even though I know it's selfish. But as much as I want too mourn her I never knew her, but I knew Eva and I loved Eva and I hate every second that I'm aware she's gone.

Allie could say any sympathetic line she wants on us, there are crap loads of them that would fit. But she respects the silence for a moment because she understands this kind of pain. "Guess you have more in common with Logan then I realized." She picks up her glass again and sips from it. "I'm sorry kids, but we're gonna have to start another line of conversation before I fall to little pieces here-" the last word ends in a tight forced laugh.

"You could build an igloo on Margo Cale's face." Jondy is the first one to change the subject. She isn't one to linger on an emotion for very long because it was the only way we managed to survive in Manticore without going crazy.

Allie laughs - a real laugh this time - and raises her glass to that. "I'll have to try that sometimes Jondy. It beats the hell out of looking at her face and trust me right now is not as bad as it can get. Try seeing her without makeup or her false eyelashes."

"That's perfectly aiight." I correct. "I'm too young to die."

Allie laughs again. "I'm likin' you more and more as the day goes on Max. Logan better recognize what a good thing he has."

"Believe me girl he recognizes -" Jondy answers on my behalf. "He's recognized three times already."

"This only makes me more pissed off that I'm still childless and without good sex." Allie sighs.

"Play me that tune again sad violinist." Jondy agrees in a 'bleeding heart voice'.

"You two are pathetic." I explain. "Hatin' on yourselves because you don't have strong and virile men to slay bounty to lay at your feet."

"Easy for you to say Ms. I-have-three-kids-and-am-married-to-a-wealthy-hot-and-considerate man." Allie draws out like an angry high school teenager contemplating her older sister's better life. "Ahh but I guess I still have my art and my dog, there's always that took look forward to, coating a canvas in oil and watching a Chinese Sharpe trying to tear them apart while they're drying." She turns to me. "Just for the record Max, in case Logan forgot to tell you or he didn't consider it important enough to tell you I'm an artist - mostly abstract stuff, mosaic kinda things of big still lifes - planes and cars and buildings. I'm not claiming myself to be another Edward Manet but I'm pretty good at it."

"There isn't any shame in giving yourself credit where credit is due." I tell her. Logan never mentioned that she was an artist. But then again I just met her a few hours ago and he probably didn't have enough time before we got sucked into seeing Margo. "Logan told me about your gallery show last year."

"It wasn't anything to brag about." Allie rectifies. "I managed to sell four of my eight paintings to the simple tune of eight hundred dollars total, one of which was bought by Bennett out of sheer pity for my lack of sales. I am the cliché of the starving artist." She raises her glass to me in a salute to herself and finishes off what was left of the wine.

"What'd you do with the other paintings?" I ask, taking the bottle away from her before she gets completely plastered.

"They're collecting dust in my studio as we speak." Allie announces.

"You still must be doin' pretty good for yourself if you can afford to have your own studio." Jondy says.

"My studio apartment Jondy." Allie clears up. "I paint in one corner of my living room, it's hidden behind shoji screens because I usually wind up splattering paint everywhere, but it's still a real mess. In fact I'm getting a headache just thinking about all the pallets, oil tubes and canvases I've got strung all over the floor. I'll be fortunate if my dog doesn't get into everything before I get home. Be lucky you're not an artist Max you'd never see your floor boards again."

"Everyone here keeps tellin' me to be lucky I don't have these difficult things in my life. But I say money puts food on your table and artistic talent means you can create somethin' pretty to hang above that table. So what the hell is wrong with having banging skill sets or advantages in your life?"

"Perhaps I stand corrected." Allie says after a long moment. "Far be it for me to complain about the privileges I was endowed with while the masses are denied basic necessities and I just watch in a self-composed selfish funk from my Ivory Tower." She has no drink to sip this time so she just lookd up at me.

"My Ivory Tower gets a little funky too." Jondy states. "Of course that's because the place reeks of my last date's empty vodka bottles and the Ivory is just painted on but we're defiinitely kindred spirits on that one girl."

Allie laughs - the first time I heard her since I got here. It's a full-hearted sound lacking any teenage girl giggle quality because she has obviously grown out of her bubbly phase a long time ago.

"I dare say something amusing has gotten your attention ladies." Trent Dalton has taken it upon himself to invite his way into our conversation. I expect Margo to be at his side but when I look she's nowhere near him.

Allie stops laughing as soon as Trent is near us. Even though she has been associated with the Cales and their resulting wealthy hierarchy of friends I can tell they aren't her kind of people. And I bet if I took her into Crash to hang with my guys she'd feel more at home with them. "Sorry Mr. Dalton, We'd love to stay and chat but we were just on our way to absorb the nature of Margo's prized roses."

"Would you mind just taking the other one with you?" He addresses Jondy as 'the other one' like the truehearted snob I know he is. "I'd like to speak to Ms. Max here alone."

"Of course." Allie agrees, obviously holding back her true feelings towards Dalton because the last time I saw that look of tension was on the face of a woman in labor at the hospital when I delivered Jessie. "I just hope you are willing to deal with the aftermath."

"You need not worry about that Ms. Lancaster." Trent reassures with just the tiniest hint of a British accent, which is obviously fake because he keeps slipping back into an American drawl. "I'll be a perfect gentlemen to Mrs. Cale."

"It's not Mrs. Cale that I'm worried about." Allie corrects. "It's you."

Trent coughed in the most pathetic attempt I've seen, to pretend that Allie's remark didn't bother him.

"If you use anything other then your mouth with Maxie you'll miss it in the morning is that clear?" Jondy adds on in warning.

"Yes of course." Trent coughs louder. If he weren't such a well-trained superficial gentleman he would be checking his crotch to make sure everything was still attached. "So nice meeting you Miss."

"Wish I could say the same." Jondy offers as a final remark before she walks off in the direction of the French doors leaving Allie to trail after her.

"Your sister is a very unique woman Mrs. Cale." Trent says after he's sure Jondy isn't close enough to hear him.

"So I've already been told today." I say. "But can we get back to what was so important to discuss with me that it dragged you away from your woman."

"My woman." Dalton repeated, somewhat disgusted by my choice of out right wording. "I'm sorry ma'am but a man of my breeding isn't fashioned to understand nor stomach that kind of street language. Margo is a lovely, and a charming example of feminity if that was what you meant. As you are as well."

"I believe we've already covered that point earlier Mr. Dalton." I remark wanting so bad to wipe that trashy smile off his face. As much as I hated Margo Cale I still don't think it's aiight for her boyfriend to be chasing tail behind her back. "And I thought I made it very where I stood on your opinions."

"Loud and clear Max." Dalton agrees, dropping the formality of addressing me by my married name because I guess he considers himself above that. "But that's not why I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh there's more? Where do you manage to hide all of this secret charm?"

"If you please my dear may we move to the sofa where we can talk more comfortably?" He offers me his arm.

Even though I'm repulsed by the idea of actually touching him I accept his gesture and allow him to escort me to Margo's oversized halogen bright white sofa because I know that some things - as chauvinistic as they are - are not worth bitching about because if I did, I'd loose good steam for the real objective.

Dalton waits for me to sit down before he slides in next to me at a respectable distance for two people in different committed relationships. He's obsesses about the art of chivalry, I can tell.

"So now that you got me nice and comfortable Mr. Dalton do you do you plan to instigate your wicked way with me?"

"Hardly." Trent Dalton corrects, although I know it's just for show. He looks like he'd be all over my business if we weren't sitting in the middle of his beloved's estate house. "I'm a gentleman after all Max and you're a married woman. This is the safest conversation you will ever have."

Yeah I work with Normal in hopes that he'll eventually let me feel him up after work one night. "I'm glad to hear that Trent. 'Cause I'm afraid I'm a one man kinda girl." He's not the only one who can drop the ceremony of titles and call people by their first name.

"You must love Logan very much."

"I do." I respond, thinking three steps ahead to see how he's going to use this information to his advantage.

"I could tell that right from the start. I mean let's face it Max you are not of the, shall we say 'privileged' stock of Seattle so there must be something else Margo's nephew sees in you. A kind of pure simple love that completely ignores your lack of social upbringing."

That is one of the most politely winding disses on my character I've ever heard, but it doesn't matter how much he dressed it up - it was still a diss. "Well what I lack in any form of a debutante breeding Trent I more then make up for in mutual respect for my husband, but I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that."

A server approaches us as if he had sensed that the tension between his Lordship and me had needed to be muted. Apparently the wealthy have nothing better to do at these parties than to see how much they can get trashed.

"1997." Dalton admires the medium sized crystal flask the server has placed under his nose. "A very good year for English Cognac. Will you join me in an indulgent Max?" He's already instructed the server to pour out the Cognac into the stemmed crystal that had been especially designed for the liquor.

"None for me thanks I'm breast feeding." I tell the server who blushes at the mention of my breasts. I have pumped enough milk to last Lucy through to the next two days I just didn't want to sit with this man and down a few.

"As you wish madam." The server bows to me again. All of Margo's servants seem to have a thing for treating simple American wealth like ancient linage royalty. He walks away and leaves us alone again.

"Surely you can formula feed the child and enjoy a few hits from a fine drink." Trent insists already enjoying his first hit from his glass.

What is this Masterpiece Theatre? He makes my baby sound like a stable horse. "'The 'child's' name is Lucy. And if you wanna get completely wasted Trent that's your deal but don't expect me to follow you out of some sort of respectability clause you want me to follow. 'Cause I'm not into waking to see my kids crawling around in a pool of my own drunken hork."

"There's that fascinating wit." Trent doesn't seem affected by my words. Either that or he has one hell of an ability to cover it up. "You really are a live wire Max. Notwithstanding your incredible and vivacious beauty I don't see how a man with Logan's breeding manages to put up with you, but then again he is somewhat of a live wire himself."

Okay that's it. I'm through with playing nice with Trent Dalton. He's a loud mouth, over inflated prick and if I wanted to spend my time around a man like I would've stayed hooked up with Darren. I stand up from the couch and stare him down like I did to Bruno Anselmo right before I put him under. "You've brought it to my attention that I'm don't have any social upbringing. So that frees me from acting like I like you. You're sittin' here insulting everything about me except my rack and yet you expect me to fall all over your ass like one of these giggly inbreeds. Well I got a revelation for you Trent. I'm not a lady, I'm a pissed off female and you're an invertebrate pimp. So lets just stop trying to hide our identities okay? Because I'm giving you fair warning that if you try to lay anymore of your pissy rich white boy bonehead ideologies on me the next time you come to a party like this it'll be your welcome home from the ICU." I pick up his still full cognac glass and slam the booze in his face; not like a dainty woman scored either, hard enough so that he'll have to rinse cognac out of his nose hairs.

"Mmm." I suck a bit of cognac off my finger from where it splashed on me. "You're right Trent, this is a good year for English Cognac."

"Max!" Margo's voice wafts over to me. "Max dear there's a delivery here for you."

I look down at Trent who's trying to wipe the liquor off of the crotch of his expensive suit. "You'll excuse me for a moment won't you?"

Trent shoots me what would have been a glower if I had been around to see all of it, but I left the pissed off man to his cleanings and headed in the direction of Margo's voice. I find her standing beside her open doorway where Original Cindy is waiting outside the estate.

"You really should have told me about this Max I would've have paid the COD if I knew you were going to have a package delivered here." Margo insists once she saw me.

"It's no big deal," I shrug. "I know how hard it is to open your pocketbook." I watch Cindy trying to keep a straight face at my slam. "Oh Margo, Trent said something about wanting to speak with you. I think he found a defect in his suit."

"Oh well then I'll just leave you to this dear." Margo leans in closer to my face. "Be sure and tip the messenger. They tend to get cranky if you don't give them enough to suffice for their meager pay."

"Of course." I say with a cheap smile, waiting until Margo has disappeared back down the hallway before turning back to Cindy. "Sorry for the diss."

"No problem sugah." Cindy replies, moving a piece of her richy curled black hair away from her face. "Original Cindy knows that you didn't mean it like pasty momma back there."

We share a laugh and Cindy checks out the leather jacket I'm wearing. "Look at you flossin' in that sleek number. I always said that your boy had female taste when he picked out that slammin' coat. None of those rich heffas in there can come close to matchin' your style."

"Thanks." After the whole thing with Trent I'm so glad to be able to talk to someone who isn't fake. "And thanks for pickin' up my drop. It's definitely above and beyond."

"Anything for my boo." Cindy answers with a smile, peeking inside for a moment to stare at Margo's house. "Damn, this place is a high end as they come."

"You wanna hang for a moment have a drink?"

"No thanks girl. I gotta get back after this pickup before Normal blows a gasket. You're lucky you're spendin' the day chillin' with the rich and famous 'cause the boy has lost that stick up his ass completely." She hands me the white cardboard tube containing the item Tyrone has sent over to me. "What I don't understand is how my boo managed to get Brady Tyrone into agreeing to fork over somethin' from his private stash."

"I did him a favor a few years ago. His daughter got taken by the Triad for ransom and I swooped in and got her back. It's just his way of returnin' the favor."

"For real? The Triad are some of the hardest thuggin' gangsters in Seattle. Tyrone should be down here kissin' the ground you walk on if you saved his seed from them not just givin' you what's in this tube."

"Believe me, what's in this tube more than rewards me for saving his baby girl." I sign on the bottom line of the signature sheet.

"Thanks girl." Cindy says with a smile, a real one not the 'service with a smile' look that Normal forced us to use on runs.

"How's Lucy?" I ask, changing the subject. Cindy and I both love Kendra to death, but the closet she's come to taking care of kids is teaching her young students Japanese, she knows nothing about taking care of babies.

"I called Kendra before I headed up here for this drop. She says Walter is lovin' your baby to death. He's readin' Pride and Prejudice to her."

"Walter reads Pride and Prejudice?"

"Original Cindy's surprised as you are boo. But apparently the man's got a soft spot for the classics."

"Let's just hope he remembers that Lucy has a soft spot too - it's called a fontanel, and it's on the back of her head."

"For the sake of Walter's child rearin' abilities he'd sure as hell better." Cindy agrees with me with her smooth flava. She pulls out a hundred dollar bill Tyrone's guys obviously handed off to her to make this drop. Damn, I told them to tip her, I just never knew they were that good at it. "Thanks for the extra seed money boo, but you don't have to prove how much you roll in the dolla dolla now to still be my girl."

"This is an out of the way task." I explain. "I just wanted you to know you were appreciated."

"Sugah I know I'm appreciated every time one of your babies calls me auntie." She pockets her earnings. "I better be gettin' back and add to this dead president collection I already got goin'. Late."

"Bye boo." I wave at her as she walks back down the spotless white stairs, watching the disgruntled bastard of a servant roll her messenger wheels to her. He's even got white gloves on, so he doesn't have to 'contaminate' himself. But I've pretty much figured out that everyone here is a jack off so his moves don't surprise me.

After I shut the door I find that I'm the center of attention of Margo and three of her closest snobs. Apparently now they decide to pay attention to me.

"If you went through all that trouble to have something delivered here Max it must be very important." Margo sips on a dry Chardonnay as she's observing me. The woman can't seem to do anything without alcohol bein' involved.

"Believe me Margo it is." I agree, uncapping the tube at one end. "I found this jewel last week. But the dealer said that he could only deliver it today and if I wasn't there to pick it up he'd move on, so I decided to take advantage of your generosity."

"Of course you would, you're family after all." Margo has to spit those words out because compliments aren't normally in her vocabulary. "Would you mind sharing your wondrous find with the rest of us? Some of us here are worthy of seeing such beautiful things." The women around Margo laugh haughtily.

I smile again even though my face is starting to hurt from pretendin' so long. "I'd be honored." I pull out the contents of the long tube, glancing up for a moment to see Jondy looking at me with confusion. I know she wants to know how the hell I plan to pull off a heist and switch a fake painting for a real one if I showed everyone the fake. The girl needs to chill sometimes; I mean who does she think I am? "This was positively a steal." I unroll the thick paper and hear the audible sighs of appreciation.

"A laser copy Georgia O' Keefe." The woman standing beside Margo compliments, looking at the large interior of a rose done in brilliant oranges and reds that O' Keefe was famous for. "Where ever did you find it my dear?" Her words have just a touch of a southern planter's accent.

"There's private art gallery in Issaquah that I went to a few weeks ago." I'm gushin' over the painting like a proud parent. Jondy has gone from looking confused to stunned, but she'll understand this all in a second. "I won it at an auction for only double the original price."

All the women make enthusiastic noises again. I may not have been born wealthy but I know all the rules about dealing with old money women.

"Margo never told us that you had such a good sense of investment." The same woman complimented me again, this time stepping over to me, flouncing the three-karat diamond ring and tennis bracelet that she obviously wants me to see.

"It must've just slipped her mind." I return.

"Well she shouldn't just let a treasure like you get away honey. You are your own best investment. Her nephew did right marrying you."

Her remark is the most honest one today out of any of these wealthy elites. She might be using it for bait against me later but I'll take my chances. "I've always thought so too."

More laughter fills the room, but it is quickly drowned out by the sound of Jondy loudly clearing her throat to catch my attention. She looks the same way she did when she caught a base Op masturbating on guard duty.

"Excuse me." I say politely to the ladies, willing to be a good girl and have manners - at least for the time being.

I step carefully in between all the Channel suits and perfume to meet Jondy who has pulled back to the crown molding encased entrance of the living room. "You wanna stop playin' magician long enough to tell me how the hell you expect to pass off a Gerogia O'Keefe for a Van Goth?"

"You're just gonna hafta trust the magic - Now enough chit chat I got a date with a master."

= = = =

"No offense Maxie but your date could be better looking." Jondy is standing in Jonas's fully equipped testosterone bar staring at the Rockwell that's hanging above her head.

"That's exactly what I need, my sister's half cocked approval before I initiate a heist." I lift the framed painting down from the wall and flip the damn heavy thing over to undo the clasps that hold the velvet lined backing in place.

"Damn," Jondy cursed staring at it. "Even these rich bastard's frame backs are high class." She watches for a moment while I lift out the back to reveal the blank side of the Rockwell print. "You puttin' in a phony copy is the perfect thing for this frame Maxie. It balances wealthy chic with illegal knock off so well."

"I'm all about the yin and yang girl." I peel away the print, careful not to tear the thin laser print paper and flip it over to see the front. Now I know Logan just showed me this painting but it looks different outside it's frame and I can't help but smile at the change. It looks - freer, like a rare falcon that was let out of its roost so it could finally see what life was like outside of a cage.

My moment of awe passes and I neatly roll up the print set it aside while I pull out the Georgia O'Keefe painting Margo and her self-praising friends were admiring earlier.

"Honestly it looks like a tree." Jondy stares at the brightly colored image. "Maybe O' Keefe was going for that and people just thought it resembled a flower and shelled out big bucks for her works because of that and she just quit caring what it was when all the green came rollin' in."

"I don't know if I'd go that far." I insist, feeling along the top edges of the O' Keefe painting for the lightly adhered edges I knew would be there, separating this painting from what lay behind it. I pull gently at the edges and they peel away like a sticker to reveal a second work underneath - an exact replica of the Rockwell painting. "But sometimes you just gotta see the forest through the trees." Jondy looks at me with shocked silence as I slide the copy Rockwell into the frame. "Tyrone is famous for his double stick art. He'll get his hands on a hot painting, copy it and then attach it to a less valuable seller like this so his merchandise will make it past sector stops." I replace the frame backing over the picture and push down the clasps that hold it in place.

"I thought Logan's Rockwell was the original."

"It is." I clarify, flipping the frame back over to examine my handiwork. "Tyrone probably heard about Logan's mom's copy being for sale and lasered it before it hit the auction block."

"So basically you're giving Margo a cheaper version of her twenty-five thousand dollar painting?"

"It's not my fault if she can't tell the difference. I knew she would want to see my drop off so I gave her a little something completely non important to admire."

"And here Lydecker thought we were wasting our abilities out here on our own."

I'm about to replace the painting when something thin slides out of the back and hits the floor with a solid 'clunk.'

"Wow a two for one." Jondy exclaims.

I pick up the item from the hardwood and realize that it's a thin jewel case for a DVD-R. There is a disc inside the case and a line of writing is written across it proclaiming:

For Logan.

= = = =

LOGAN

I asked the server to pour me this glass of Rhone but I haven't even nursed it yet. It's a good year, excellent bouquet - what more could an elite Cale man ask for in a wine?

"Are you waiting for it to sprout legs?"

Finally a voice that doesn't make me want to cringe. I finally had to retract myself from Aunt Margo's conversation because she kept goading me with questions about her concern for the social upbringing of my children with my bohemian lifestyle.

"Logan hello?" Allie's voice draws me out of my daydream again.

"What? Sorry I wasn't paying attention."

"Way to make a girl feel special." Allie states, crossing her arms and looking at me the same way she did when I use to freeze vinegar in the ice cube trays.

"Sorry." I repeat again. Good old gentleman genes. I will always be respectable to a woman even if I don't know what the hell she was just talking about. "With the amount of boredom stifling this room it's kind of easy to get lost in thought."

Allie laughs quietly at that. I've always loved her laugh. It was so contagious and light, but never airy or stuck up the way some of Marie's private school mates use to laugh. "Why are we even here Logan? It's obvious that you're bigoted relatives shut you out of their lives a long time ago, and I'm just a former baby sister hanging out with a bunch of rich people who only just manage to tolerate my existence."

"We're here because we have a contractional obligation to like these people. They became part of our lives a long time ago, whether we like it or not." I offer Allie the Rhone but she turns it down so I lay it on the mantle of the fireplace that I'm standing beside.

"At least you have Max to keep things real for you. Meanwhile I'm gonna be stuck sucking up to these bastards ten years after I die. Maybe that's why your family decided to fl-" Allie suddenly shuts up like she has just uttered a curse word in front of the Pope. "I'm sorry Logan." She's older than me by three years but right now she resembles a guilty six-year-old and covers her hands over her mouth "I'm so sorry. God, I think I had too many today. I didn't mean any of that." She is practically begging me to believe her. "Marie was like a sister to me, I never thought for a second that they did it deliberately-"

"Hey it's okay." I reassure Allie. She's getting very flustered over her words so I decide to end her misery and pull her into a hug.

She responds to my embrace and wraps her arms around my neck. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss them." A sad undertone coats her words. "I know it's so damn selfish. They were your family."

"But they were your family too." I return. My words remind me of a conversation I had with mom when I was seven and this older kid told me that Marie and Allie couldn't be sisters because they didn't have the same parents.

/FLASHBACK: "Marie and Allie don't have to share the same blood to be sisters Logan." Sara Cale sat on the front porch swing with her son listening to the rain hit the roof.

"But mommy Marie shares my blood and she's MY sister." Logan insisted working on the chocolate brownie his mom had set out for him.

"I know that sweetheart, but some girls are related by blood and don't consider themselves sisters. It's the love and feelings you have for people that makes them a family. Now Allie may not have the same last name as me, but I consider her one of my daughters.

"All because you love her?"

Sara laughed quietly at her son, musing up his hair. "Sometimes loving someone is all it takes."/

"Is this a bad time?"

Allie immediately pulls back at the sound of Max's voice, hoping that my wife isn't the type that blew things out of proportion. "We weren't doing anything worth signing divorce papers over."

"Of course not." Max agrees. "I'm not that untrusting of my husband to think he steps out on me at any given opportunity."

"I'm gratified." I remark, catching sight of a paper mail tube in Max's hand. "Don't tell me you cased the joint."

"Logan Cale." Max reprimands. "I would never 'case a joint'. What I do is called 'recon'."

"I feel so much better now."

"You know I live to please my man." Her smile is inviting. I only wish I could take full advantage of her invitation.

"Then how about revealing the fruits of your undertakings?"

"Not yet. Don't you have a thing called patience?"

"I gave up when I married you." Max glares at me so I have to quickly apologize or face her wrath for the rest of the day. "That was a joke baby. Obviously not a very good one, but I'd like to remind you that not even our dog sleeps in a doghouse."

"Then the dog's daddy will hafta exercise a little more self-restraint if he doesn't want me to build one and put him in it."

"The only correct response to that Logan is a solid 'Yes dear'." Allie jumps in. She's never been married but I swear she's learned all the tricks to it.

I'm not about to say 'yes dear' my wife because I'm not a whipped lover boy and Max doesn't like to be called 'dear.' So I do what any self-respecting man with a beautiful wife inches away from him would do. I pull her to me by one hand and start kissing her so hard I'm sure her lips are going to leave an indentation against mine.

Max doesn't like being caught off guard but her discomfort seems to vanish once she realizes what I'm doing. I have gone all damn afternoon without really kissing my wife because all these rich people have a problem with intimacy. But I already have three more weeks of celibacy left and I got to have something to keep me satisfied until then.

Her hands are soft around my stubble - she never even uses hand lotion but her skin is still like silk. She tastes like all the expensive drinks Margo's been serving today. I'll have to thank her for that later; at least my aunt can do something right by me.

"Honestly you two, can't you take it outside?"

I pull back from Max, not because I'm embarrassed by what I'm doing but because the voice was so irritating that it's distracting.

Trent Dalton is standing in the entranceway of Margo's living room acting like he caught two teenagers necking in class.

"Is there something wrong about the way I kiss my wife Mr. Dalton?" Only someone with as much breeding as me could be fuming and still sound so polite.

"My boy, there is nothing wrong with expressing affections to your lady, but you sometimes you must confine your lust when you're around such high standing members of society. Your lovely wife may not grasp this concept, but surely a man of your stature can understand the embarrassment you've presented on your family."

"Oh shut up Trent." Bennett's voice cuts in. He's standing next to Maryanne who looks a little shocked at her husband's straightforwardness but she isn't appalled by it. I think she thinks it is long overdue.

Trent glares at Bennett. No one talks to an aristocrat like that. "Is there something you'd like to say Bennett?"

"I think I said it already." Bennett hisses. He doesn't appear to be drunk anymore. The coffee must have worked; either that or he's just a very out spoken drunk. "You think that just because you're dating my mother that gives you leeway to insult my cousin?"

"My dear boy, I wasn't insulting anyone. Your cousin just needs to learn to control himself."

"Control himself how Trent? He's kissing his wife, they're both adults, what the hell is so out of control about that?"

"Bennett dear; watch your language." Margo insists, standing a few feet away from Trent. "Trent was only saying what a lot of us wanted to."

"Forgive me mother, but I don't think it's right to put down someone who obviously is very much in love with his wife. I don't care why Trent feels this way. He can't treat Logan with that kind of audacity; he doesn't even know him. And even if he did know him you shouldn't stand for it, this is your family he's insulting." Bennett is on fire now. I've seen him get angry about a lot of things, but he's never defended me to this level before. It kind of restores my faith in him

"We'll talk about this later sweetheart." Margo says quickly.

"I'm glad," Bennett agrees, "Because Maryanne and I are leaving. We had actually planned out today to pick out nursery furniture but we came at your insistence to meet your new man. But I've had all can take of your soirée and your incorrigible boyfriend so I'll just let myself out." He takes Maryanne's hand and leads her through the crowd that has fallen silent, stopping briefly at Max and me. "If I were you Logan I'd leave while I still had time to do something worthwhile today."

"We'll be leaving soon anyway Bennett." I inform him, trying to keep the glee out of my voice. "Our kids get out of school in about an hour. Plus we still have to pick up Lucy."

"Forget what I said about having boys. Just hope they don't catch the obnoxious Cale gene." He starts to lead Maryanne to the side door but she stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Give me a second honey okay?" Maryanne requests. "Why don't you bring the car around?" She rubs his back with her right hand. Bennett just gave a big speech about me being so in love with Max, but it's the same for him and Maryanne.

He agrees with her silently and she watches him leave for a second before turning back to us. "I'm sorry you guys. Bennett gets really tightly wound sometimes. I guess things are just a little hectic with this baby and all."

"You don't have to apologize Maryanne." I insist. "I think he was just making sure he vented before he got home."

Maryanne smiles, a genuine one. I think Bennett's display gave her a chance to vent herself. I have had enough experience with my family's rules and regulations to know that it can be very suffocating. "Oh we're not going home yet Logan. Since Bennett has taken upon himself to leave a party early that I never wanted to go to in the first place I'm going to use the rest of the day and go shop for nursery furniture." She walks forward and kisses me quickly on one cheek. "I hope you two will come to the baby shower. I promise it will be less formal then this."

"We wouldn't miss it." Max agrees from beside me. She looks more at ease with Maryanne then she did at the wedding. I think it's because she realizes they are basically both in the same boat and she can respect that.

Maryanne kisses Max on both cheeks like proper ladies of the court use to do. "You may have to give me a few pointers on babies Max. I just hope an ace like you won't mind putting up with a beginner."

"Every momma's a beginner with each kid." Max clarifies, putting Maryanne at ease in the only way she can, telling her the truth. "Every experience is different. But you learn as you go, and that's why it's fun."

Up until now I don't think Maryanne considered having a baby something 'fun'. She probably just thought of all the burdens of pregnancy and the rules that the kid would have to follow being born a Cale. However, Max is right. Having kids is fun; it's an adventure. I'm suddenly missing a tiny little girl named Lucy very much now. I want to hold her almost as much as I've wanted to make love to Max for the past three weeks.

= = = =

FOGLE TOWERS

3: 15 PM

"Daddy, mommy promised I could hold Lucy!" Jessie is staring at me with a little boy's scowl on his face. As soon as we arrived home my son flung his backpack on the couch and plants himself next to me on the other side.

Lucy is undamaged from her visit to Kendra and Walter, but I'm sad to say Walter isn't. When Max put her in the stroller I could swear his eyes were tearing. Who knew that underneath all that Sector Cop eviction attitude was a softie for kids?

But I'm glad to be home with her and the rest of my little family. I gave Allie a huge hug goodbye and waved to Margo and Trent as my Aztec was pulling out of the estate. Margo wanted me to come to an art auction that Allie will be featured in next week. I said 'yes' of course, but I did it for Allie not for my snooty aunt. I've loved watching Allie paint since the day she started baby-sitting me. She use to do poster paint and water colors then and the pictures weren't nearly as detailed and riveting as they are now, but it was just fun to see her put strokes of colors on the canvas. Jondy was invited as well. Those two must have really hit it off. Allie was looking at her all dreamy eyed, like she just found a new best friend. Jondy left an open acceptance because I could tell she was itching to get back on the road and travel. X5's have that gene where they couldn't sit still. She was here five minutes for an abridged goodbye saying that she was going to sneak into Zane's trailer and see how long it took for him to wake up and notice her lying in his bed.

"Daddy!" Jessie is now beating on my leg to get my attention. "I want to hold the baby!"

"Ow, Okay." I finally give in, shifting Lucy to my shoulder so I can have a hand free. My daughter is spitting bubbles against my expensive argile shirt but I really don't give a crap. She can pee on me for all I care she's my baby after all. "You know how to do this okay, sit all the way back and keep your legs out." I help Jess lean back into the cushions and he is eager to comply with my wishes.

"Hold up." Max insists coming out of the kitchen with a curved neck airflow bottle in her hand and Lexi on her heels. "I think you're old enough to give your baby sister a bottle."

"What do I do?" Jessie sounds a little unsure, but he has Max's genes, he'll figure it out soon enough.

Max sits beside him and hands him the bottle while I pass him the baby. After he has a secure hold on her Max goes through the steps of bottle-feeding. "Hold it up high, and just support her neck." Jessie does this and in a minute Lucy is sucking down the breast milk greedily.

"She's eating it." Jessie exclaims and I watch as Max smiles at our son's eagerness. "She likes it when I feed her."

"Of course she does. You're her big brother." Her hand strokes Jessie's hair warmly.

"I wanna help too!" Lexi orders, climbing up on the couch. She plants herself down right next to Lucy's head and I'm certain she won't move until she gets what she wants. She is like her mother in that way.

"Here." I take her hand and place it on the baby bottle. "You hold onto the bottle while Jessie holds her okay?"

Lexi uses both hands and grasps the bottle so firmly that I can't help but laugh at how excited she is to be doing something to help take care of Lucy. "Look mommy!" She's smiling so hugely now that it almost engulfs her entire face.

Max is smiling too. Lexi has a grin that is contagious. "I'm glad you two are learnin' how to share." She looks down at Lucy who is busy eating, staring at her brother and sister with large eyes. I think she knows that she has an audience because she starts letting out airy coos in between sucking on the rubber nipple. She's not even a month old and already she knows the value of attracting an audience. That's my girl for you.

Speaking of my girls, Max is perched like a sculpture on the arm of the couch, but she is actually more beautiful then any piece of chiseled art because she is breathing and vibrantly alive. I could sit all day watching her, soaking in every aspect that makes her sexy to me. But I know that we have duties to maintain, and our children to take care off.

Max looks up to me with smoky fire in her eyes; obviously she caught the way I was staring at her. "You wanna come over here and act on that look?"

God, she'd have to say that wouldn't she? As if being this close to her wasn't torture enough. "I only wish I could Max." I don't call her any pet names because the amount of sexual tension here feels just like the way it did when we still danced around each other all that time before we got married. Back then she was always just 'Max' not sweetheart or angel. Actually it's kind of fitting to me. Max is who I fell in love with, and when that first started to happen I never thought of her as a 'sweetheart'. "But you know we can't. And even if we could it would be highly unethical to do it right here in front of our children."

She looks likes she's actually contemplating the idea of finding a way to make it work, but the look fades as quickly as it came, leaving me to guess if it was ever really there in the first place. "Since you had to go and screw up my fantasies I'm ordering you to come with me 'cause I have something to give you."

"You're ordering me?" I ask with a hint of amusement.

"Damn straight," she clarifies in a crisp commanding tone that would put Lydecker's to shame. "You have two options: come with me quietly, or come with me after I hurt you."

"They both sound like winners sweetheart so to save the time of choosing I'll just go with you without any strings attached. Can I ask where we're going though?"

"You'll see; just be patient." Max reassures, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. The kids are still busy feeding Lucy so we mange to slip out under their radar.

Max's persistent pulling leads me to my computer room/office where a coil of rolled paper is sitting atop my desk like a misplaced Roman column.

"You shouldn't have?" I say bemused, walking over to my desk. The roll of paper is long and completely white, keeping its shape by repeated curling without the aid of a rubber band.

"Open it." Her words are a direct order.

I pick up the paper and unroll it, seeing the hint of a building peak out at me. It takes a minute for my brain to register what I'm seeing, but when I finally realize what it is, my curiosity changes to a stunned expression. It's mom's Rockwell that just this morning was sitting in Jonas' austere drinking room. "How did you-"

"You don't marry a genetically engineered thief without enjoying some of the perks." Max says casually, a slow creeping smile spreading over her face.

"Wow," I'm too surprised to say anything intelligent right now. "Not that I'm not grateful to have one of the only remaining links back to my mom but won't Margo miss this above the bar?"

"Logan Cale what kind of a thief do you take me for? I swapped out this baby for a duplicate that's identical to untrained eyes such as Aunt Margo, she'll never know the difference unless she decides to auction it and by then it's kinda too late."

She stole this for me, all because I mentioned it was mom's? I know I contemplated it this morning but I never actually thought she would do something like this. "Thank you."

She has no pitying looks behind her eyes, no gaze of merit for helping a poor boy get back something from his dead mother. She's merely looking at me with an expression that says its part of her payment for our quid pro quo. "Everyone deserves to have some point in their life where they're not being screwed over and yours was long over due."

"I know of a few other things that are long over due as well." I step over to her and wrap my arms around her back, kissing her softly.

"Didn't we already do this today?" she teases, but falls into my kiss because she knows that it's much easier to make out without having tons of rich people judging you.

"I could stop if you want me to baby." I say, even though the words are hard to get out because I am now reduced to quick shallow breaths by how hot Max's kiss has made me.

"You do and I'll kick your ass." Her threat is a low whisper because she is busy making me crazy.

"Mommy!" Jessie's voice calls from the living room. "Lucy needs a burp."

Max sighs and drops her head to my shoulder.

"You better go get her." I slide a hand through her hair, feeling myself tighten back up at the interruption.

"Yeah." Max's words are a breathy sigh, not because Lucy is a burden, but she doesn't want to be interrupted any more than I did. When she pulls away from me I have to take a moment to think about what to do with my hands that were just around her body. I'm not so aroused that I have to cover up any 'tents' so I instead turn to back to the painting that lay on my desk.

I can still see it sitting above our gray sofa in the frame that mom meticulously dusted because she loved it so much. Dad would often joke that mom loved that painting more then she loved him. To which she would always tell him that he had discovered her secret. I can still hear the laughter and the subsequent giggling cries as dad chased her around the house to make her take it back. For all of dad's flaws and macho rich attitudes he was really in love with mom. When I was a kid I would catch them plenty of times lying on our porch swing together, or dad watching a chick movie with mom just because he knew he could fall asleep in her lap.

There's something lying next to the painting, something that I didn't notice until now. It is a plastic jewel case for a standard DVD-R. There's a white label taped across the clear part of plastic and across it is very familiar handwriting:

For Logan

"Max." I call out to her.

She doesn't answer me with words and instead comes into the computer room holding Lucy up against her shoulder.

I hold up the case for her to see. "Where did this come from?"

"It was behind the frame." Max tells me, patting Lucy's back trying to get her to burp. "I figured it was from your mom. You said she willed this painting to you so she probably thought you'd find it back there."

I'm almost shaking now. My family was home movie crazy; we had dozens of movies documenting all the important school plays, soccer practices, birthdays, anniversaries, but they all were only up until I was eight-years-old, our camera was a piece of crap that dad got second hand despite the fact he probably had enough money to buy out Panasonic. He finally bought a fancy Sony DVD recorder when I was fourteen, saying we were going to make a whole new set of movies but he was lazy and never did it. I had seen mom take off for the store one day for a blank DVD and I figured she was finally putting dad's camera to good use but she never said or showed me anything. I had guessed that she didn't know as much as she thought about the camera and was too proud to ask dad for help, but now I see I was wrong.

"Put it in. You can romance it later." Max insists in her spitfire way.

I snap out of my trance and slide the disk into my Sanyo DVD player, switching on the silver TV while my machine clicks and whirrs around the disc.

In a moment a brightly colored image pops up, the living room of my old house. And sitting in front of the camera like she's taking a mug shot is mom. My breath hitches for a moment at the image - I've looked through pictures of mom since she died, but photographs are one dimensional, what I'm looking at now is inherently different, it's more real. I see the date reader in the corner showing me that this was 2003, the last year she was alive. She is as beautiful as I remember, wearing her pink cardigan and gold locket that now sits on my dresser. Her auburn hair is pulled into a soft half ponytail, leaving some wisps to frame her face. I'm entranced just by her image that when she starts to speak I'm startled by the noise.

"Hey Logan sweetie."

Her voice is melodic, the same one that would soothe me when I had a cut on my knee or command my dad to take his feet off of her coffee table.

"Marie just left to take you to school and dad had an early meeting so this is the perfect time to do this."

She hesitates for a moment and fingers her locket, stroking the gold like it is alive. Behind her I notice the painting and somehow I realize that she positioned the camera so I could see it.

"I know how much you love this painting honey. So I'm giving it to you when I'm gone. It's kind of morbid to talk about, but I was checking the account amount with your college fund at the bank yesterday and it got me thinking-about a lot of things"

She laughs and I haven't heard it in so long that it's like the first time I ever remembered it, when she showed me the North Star in the night sky when I was three.

"I'm not going to be here forever, and if you're looking at this tape it means I'm gone. I only hope that it's when I'm old and crotchety. But if it isn't, then I'm sorry baby I know that this painting isn't enough to make up for my absence but I know you'll still cherish it and think of me."

A sigh catches in her throat and her eyes look sad, but I can see the brave front she's trying to keep up, because even though she's talking about her early death she never actually believed she would die before her time. She thought she would grow old with dad when she made this; it was just something for 'in case'.

"If that happens, I know I won't be around to watch you and Marie grow up but treat each other good, okay honey? Brothers and sisters are something not everyone gets the privilege of having. And know that I never loved one of you more than the other one. You're my only son Logan; nothing will ever change that. If I'm gone before you grow up don't worry. I'm sure you're watching this as the man I know you grew up to be, probably look just like your father, tall, handsome, kind. And hopefully you've found a beautiful woman who makes you very happy."

I don't realize moisture has fallen down my face until the drops hit the desk surface.

"Don't worry about not having my approval about her. Just treat her good sweetheart okay, and know that I already love her because she loves you-- I love you too Logan. If I ever had any doubts about marrying into dad's snobby family they go away every time I look at you and Marie. I love my college degree and my independence, but if all of that was gone tomorrow I wouldn't care because I love you guys more. Being your mom is the most important thing to me. I hope you get to be a parent so you can understand how beautiful it is.

Sorry for the ruse with this video but I don't trust your Aunt Margo. If something happens to me I know she won't take the time to make sure you get this; so I'm putting it on this painting because I know you will find it because you're MY son, and you've got my inquisitive genes." She laughs. "Just don't tell your father I told you that. I'm 'signing' off now I guess you would say baby. Take care and I love you."

She blows a kiss at the camera as it cuts off. I pick up the remote and rewind the DVD, stopping it just when she blows the kiss, not really knowing why I did it. I know she's not here, but when she blew that kiss she felt alive for a moment and I just want to hang onto to that.

"See? She did give you more then just oil and canvas to remember her by." Max's voice is soft and she steps over to me. Her hand wipes away the tears tracks from my face and I snatch it to kiss her hand.

= = = =

MAX

VOICE OVER: "Logan never talked much about his mom. I used to think it was because some memories are too sad to remember, I know about things like that."

(Max leans over holding Lucy and kisses Logan on top of his head and then rests her chin in the groove of his shoulder)

VOICE OVER: "But his memories aren't sad at all. They're very warm and happy and that hurts more because she's gone now. But there's always a piece of her that lives in him because she loved him so much--And sometimes loving some one is all it takes."

= = = =

End

This is a little sad I know, but Logan's mom was only mentioned a few times in the series and I felt that they obviously had this strong bond that deserved to be recognized. Sorry this took a while to get up I was working on three fics at once, and it rained here a lot so I couldn't get on my computer.

I just really gotta give major kudos to my beta reader Sammie. I mean, here I have these incredibly long stories and she sits there patiently editing all of it, not many people would put up with something of mine for that long, lol. Thanks again girl, I cherish every day you don't start charging for your services.

This took a long time to get up cause after Sammie sent it back to me to revamp it would rain, all the time, every day, so I would get about an hour into editing and it would lightining so I'd have to get off my computer, and this kept happening so it took me four friggin days just to edit the damn thing. (shakes fist at the stupid tropical weather.)

Thanks again for being so patient with me guys, I take a while, but at least I know I have loyal fans who stick by it until it comes out. I've got my idea for the next chapter so hopefully it will go a lot faster.

R/R please
Peace
Mystic