Jacaranda

Chapter Five

A/N: Sorry this one took so long, guys. I've obviously been a little caught up with In Fair Verona. But I really appreciate the reviews and PMs y'all have sent to remind me this thing still exists. The next chapter should come along much faster.

"We are going on a date," James declares from the hotel bed. It is still sweltering hot outside, but the air conditioning is blasting inside the room. James's dad is out, because his dad is always out. James has only seen him twice this entire trip. But he can smell him, buried as he is beneath the comforter and sheets, wallowing in the cool air like a piglet in mud.

In the bathroom, Diana snorts. He hears the clatter of her flatiron hitting the counter. "Is he going to give you his letterman jacket?"

"Laugh all you want, but I am so going to win this bet. It's just a matter of time."

"Right." Diana calls back. "At the rate you're going, you'll have to get married before Kendall will drop his pants."

She dances out of the bathroom in a pretty flower print sundress. When she slips into her heels she makes a point of bending over so that James can see the lace of her thong. He licks his lips and snuggles deeper into the hotel bed.

"Get out," Diana orders in her bossiest voice.

James waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Or you could get in."

"That's not the deal."

"Come on," he whines, and he would never do this in front of any other girl, but Diana knows him. She's seen all of his good, and all of his bad. "I need incentive."

It's like she doesn't even need convincing. Diana climbs into the bed, crawls toward James on her knees, the dress riding high on her thighs. She hovers over the plane of James's chest before planting her hand in the middle, the thickness of the comforter obscuring her heat. James waits.

Taking her sweet time with it, Diana kisses his throat. Her teeth scrape against James's Adam's apple. The line of his jaw is her favorite place, and she lingers there, relearning the shape with her lips until James tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her up. Her breath tastes like coffee and oranges, like breakfast, with something underneath that is more familiar, more Diana. James shoves down the comforter and flips them. He pins her to the bed, hands on her wrists.

Diana stares up at him with a mixture of defiance and impish delight, and James thinks that she would let him, if he tries it. He dips his head down, breathing her in. "Can I?"

Diana tilts her chin up. "A date's worth a kiss."

Her head arcs forward, and James strains down to meet her mouth.

But.

It would be so easy to spare everybody, to spare Kendall, right now. …It just wouldn't be very much fun. James stops, millimeters away from his goal. It's hard. They both thrive off of instant gratification, and getting what he wants would be very, very gratifying.

"Seriously?" Diana demands, all ruffled and angry.

Jams flops back on the pillow. "You're the one who wanted to make this a game."

He watches Diana's chest heave, the skin of her breasts splotchy over the neckline of her sundress. James threads his hand through her hair, pulling her head into him. When he thinks her blood has stopped boiling, he asks, "What are you doing today?"

He didn't think that would be the question she's been waiting for, but Diana spends twenty minutes warming back up to James, until she's full on babbling ecstatically about all the things she's going to see; from Grauman's to the winding streets up into the Hollywood hills. She's more animated than James has seen her in ages, excitement a tangible aura around her.

James was just like her, once. He remembers sitting on the plane while it taxied in Minnesota, bouncing up and down in his seat. Kendall had to put a calming hand on his shoulder. Softly, he'd said, "Whoa, there. It's a long flight."

James can still hear his gentle laughter in his ears.

Now he's been on two international tours and crossed America at least five times. In the past few years, he's seen more than he ever could have dreamed. James is living exactly the life he's always wanted. But Diana is still the starstruck kid, stuck in Minnesota for ninety percent of the year.

Hollywood must sparkle to her.

It strikes such a deep chord inside of James, fondness and longing and affection wrapped up into a neat little package. He wants to tell Diana to get all dolled up, thick black eyeliner and curled hair. He'll take her to a real Hollywood party dressed like a modern day Fay Wray. He'll show her the world like she's never been able to see it. He can. He's James fucking Diamond, a boy more famous than his dad ever has been.

He tries not to be too vindictive about that victory.

James regrets it when he has to gently extricate himself from Diana's arms. Her pout is immediate. "Where are you going?"

"I've got a date, remember? Kendall's waiting."

Kendall. James can't shake the memory of the plane, now, about to take off for his dreams. That day, Kendall was his hero. James would have given him anything in thanks, because a spoiled brat he may be, but he knows all about repaying debts. His mom, his real mom, raised him right.

Or did she? James never did figure out how to return the favor, but heartbreak probably isn't an even trade. He cringes. Negativity never got anyone laid.

James straightens his clothes, sniffing the crook of his elbow. He smells like his dad. He'll have to change before him and Kendall leave. Diana turns her face into the pillow. Her carefully straightened hair is getting mussed, but she doesn't seem to care. "Have fun."

"Always do."

On his way out the door, James glances in the mirror. There is a smear of mandarin lipstick against his neck.

Guiltily, he rubs at it with his sleeve.

The canopy of jacaranda blossoms leading away from the hotel droops beneath the heavy sun. Interwoven between them are these pretty trees laden with huge white blossoms, imitating fresh snow. It makes James think of home, of building snowmen and igloos with Kendall, Carlos, and Logan. Sometimes they'd bury themselves in caves of ice for hours, hiding away from the world. He can't take this heat anymore. James wishes he could wrap winter around his shoulders and fade into Christmas lights, sparkling in the snow. He wishes everything was always crisp and shiny and clear. But Diana muddles everything, because that is what she does best.

Diana and Kendall. They're weirdly alike in that way.

He walks home convinced that he is rotting, turning black and ugly from the inside out. Every time he considers feeling bad about it, he thinks of Diana; the softness of her body pressed up against his, curves beneath his fingers and the cherry taste of her lips. He was so damn close.

Soon.

In 2J, Kendall is walking around in a pair of jeans and nothing else. James only allows himself a few seconds to stare at his sweat shiny skin before he walks right on past, into the bathroom. He grabs a bottle of hair gel and gets to work on styling.

This heat just makes everything wilt.

Kendall skulks in the doorframe. "Way to say hi, dude."

James spares him a glance. A bead of wet is tracking its way down Kendall's navel. James decides it's safer to look at his reflection. "I've got to get ready for a hot date."

He can actually hear Kendall smile. He comes up behind James, leaning his chin on his shoulder. "Getting yourself all pretty for me?"

"I'm always pretty," James retorts.

"Don't forget the part where you're overwhelmingly modest. What's that?" Kendall tugs at the collar of James's shirt.

In the mirror, James can see the smear of orange on the fabric is still there. He flushes. "Nothing."

"Alright." Kendall hops up onto the counter, blocking very important styling space. James was planning on resting his hair gel there, damnit. "Where exactly are you taking me on this fancy date thing?"

"Fancy…date…thing?" James snorts. "You really have a way with words."

Kendall punches him in the arm. "Jerk."

"Ow. Be nice. I'm taking you to the greatest place on Earth."

"The hockey rink?" Kendall perks up.

"The second greatest place on Earth," James corrects with a fond eye-roll. "Are you excited?"

"Me? Excited? To go out with you?" Kendall's voice gets exaggeratedly loud. "I go out with you all the time. That would be stupid."

"You didn't say no." James beams. He's feeling pretty great about his prospects, here. "Go put a shirt on. We're leaving in ten."

"So, half an hour? Okay, then."

Kendall hops back off the counter, ruffling James's hair in the process. Indignant, James yelps, "Dude!"

"Make that forty minutes." Kendall smirks. His nipples are pink-brown, standing at attention. Distracting James from how irritable he's trying to be. "Oh and, James?"

James gives Kendall his best deep snarl. "What?"

Kendall hooks a finger in the belt loop of James's jeans, tugging him close and brushing his mouth against James's ear. "I'm pretty excited."

He backs out of the bathroom with a smile that touches James all the way down to his toes. It takes root inside his bones and blossoms, grows big and strong and bright, branching out like a jacaranda tree.

James is pretty excited too.

The ride to James's Super Top Secret Special Date Secret Locale takes half an hour on the highway. There were closer places he could have picked, but he likes to drive. The speed. The wind dancing through his hair. The tires shaking, rattling, jumping over ruts in the road while the wheel stays steady in his hands. He likes all of it.

Kendall spends the whole ride fiddling with the stereo, switching from KROQ to the local indie station. He sings along to every song he knows; his voice and the music flooding through James like adrenaline. Is there anything better? He laces his fingers with Kendall's on the gear stick. Kendall squeezes.

He does not let go.

They pull into the parking lot trailing bass drums and tread marks, car crunching concrete. Kendall's gaze falls on the bright neon sign in front of them. He cocks an eyebrow, "This is your idea of a special date?"

James shrugs, hands gripping the steering wheel. His palms are wet. They only get clammy like this when he's nervous. Which must mean he is nervous. Around Kendall. Weird. "I've never taken anyone here before. Besides, you like the arcade."

Kendall considers. "Bet I can kick your ass in skee-ball,"

"You're so on, dude." They tumble out of the car, trying to beat each other to the shiny glass façade of the arcade. By the time James's hand is on the door handle, his nervousness has evaporated in the arid California heat.

Kendall does kick his ass at skee-ball. Eight times. And then he pounds James at Zombie Slayers 5.0 and Point And Shoot and Whack-a-mole. James does manage to regain some of his dignity at Alien Space Invaders Twenty Nine and he rocks hard at Salsa Revolution, although the latter is a close call. Kendall's hip shake continues to put James's to shame.

Kendall's wins himself a cheap, plastic kazoo and James gets a yo-yo that takes him five seconds to break, showing off tricks he hasn't tried since he was ten. He wishes Kendall would break the damned kazoo; he treats James to obnoxious symphonies all the way to the beach, butchering Smoky Robinson and Johnny Cash and the Foo Fighters all in the short space of ten minutes.

They eat burgers on the boardwalk and James licks special sauce off his fingers.

Kendall snorts into his bun, "You are one classy dude. Do you do this for all the girls?"

"Stop it."

The laughter dies from Kendall's eyes. Blue sky reflects off his pupils, surrounded by the greengreengreen of his iris. "Stop what?"

"Stop acting like I'd rather be out with a chick. I'm with you right now, dude. This is the only place I want to be." James holds his gaze. "It's the only place I've wanted to be for a while now."

Kendall doesn't have a reply to that, and James wonders if maybe he's done something wrong. They listen to the crash of the waves on the beach and chew, trading small talk that means less than it did a few minutes before. It's not until they're back in the safety of the car that Kendall says, "I thought I told you not to do that."

"What?"

"Don't pretend you always wanted me. It makes it worse," Kendall says. The roof is down, but they're back on the highway, driving so fast they might as well being going at light speed. No one but James can hear him now.

"Makes what worse?"

Kendall stays quiet. The minutes on the digital clock tick by. The song on the radio changes from some top forty pop hit to an indie ballad.

"Kendall?"

"Yeah."

"The other day, you said that you would have noticed if I liked you?" James is not the most observant guy in the world, but he knows how to read between the lines when push comes to shove. He knows there is more to this story. Just. He was mostly trying not to think about it.

Their history makes this hard enough without Kendall going and rewriting it completely.

Kendall shrugs. He fiddles with his seatbelt, clicks lockunlocklock on the car door. Anything to avoid looking at James. "You really need me to answer that question?"

"It's kind of important, yeah." James takes an off ramp without thinking about why. He's driving up into the hills with the vague idea that he'll find a quiet spot. Nothing more.

Kendall shifts in the passenger seat, rubbing his palms against his knees, resting his elbow against the door and then changing his mind; the windowsill must be comfier. He stretches his legs and glances around. "Where are we going?"

"Don't change the subject."

"What do you want me to say?" Kendall demands, frustration creeping into his tone. "I like you. You know I like you, I agreed to come on this dumb date with you-"

"It was not dumb."

"-and I kissed you and I'll probably kiss you again because you're gorgeous and excruciatingly aggravating, but mostly gorgeous, and you have been since as long as I can remember, so. I've liked you forever, duh. How could I not have?"

James sucks his lower lip into his mouth, biting down. It's nearly nightfall, but not quite there yet. The sky is a watercolor painting of blue, blush pink, and dusky indigo. He pulls over onto the darkest, most secluded street he can find and hopes that night will come sooner rather than later.

"How long is forever?" He cannot keep the fascination out of his voice.

Kendall crosses his arms and frowns at the perfectly manicured lawns outside of the car, some bordered by wrought iron fences, some blocked away by avocado trees, lupins, daisies, and asphodel. Wherever they are, it is lush. It is an oasis. "A long time."

"How long a time?" James emphasizes, because no matter how much the knowledge is going to work against him, he still has to hear it out loud. The lid on this Pandora's Box is already cracked. What he knows, or thinks he knows, is already out there, in the world. It is a question waiting for an answer.

The street lamps click on, turning the dusky shadows that play over Kendall's face to gold. The sun surrenders the sky completely, disappearing behind the horizon that James cannot see and does not care about. There is nothing but him, Kendall, the car, and the buzz of cicadas singing sweetly through twilight.

"It's not a big deal." Kendall says, the wrecked edge of his voice betraying how big a deal confessing this actually is, to his pride or his sense of self or whatever. "Sixth grade. Maybe fifth. Maybe third. I don't know. A long time. No big."

James's initial reaction makes shame burn deep in the pit of his stomach, because it's victory. Diana was so damn sure that Kendall wasn't interested in James, not even a little bit. That's why she chose him.

Her ability to read people sucks.

James whistles. "That is a long time."

His second, equally ignoble instinct is to mock Kendall into the next century, but from the way Kendall folds in on himself, he can tell that would absolutely be the wrong move. But really, third grade? James is totally irresistible.

"Yeah." Kendall bunches his fingers into his jeans, too serious. James's shame burns brighter. Kendall's not supposed to be this serious. Not around him. "It doesn't matter. Or it wasn't supposed to. You've never been interested in guys."

"Neither have you."

Kendall doesn't answer, doesn't tell James he's different or say anything verging on romantic. He is wholly uncomfortable, solemn, and cagey. He looks like he is about to throw up his walls, and James doesn't like the idea of being the one standing on the other side. He's been a part of Kendall's inner circle for as long as he can remember. Kendall's never had a secret James hasn't been privy too.

At least, he's always thought so.

This isn't how James wanted their date to end. He says, "So. You're planning on kissing me again?"

James tries not to be offended by the relieved slump of Kendall's shoulders. Sure, James is the one who changed the subject, but it's only because they're dudes. Dudes don't talk about their feelings. They're supposed to be boorish and lewd. Yeah, maybe he would have liked Kendall to elaborate on this whole third grade thing, the why or the how of it. Was it instantaneous or a slow realization? What prompted it? And why James? James who is shallow and self-absorbed and the complete polar opposite of all the grounded girls Kendall dates? He'd really like to know the reasoning behind that one, but there's potential hooking up to be had here. He'll settle for that.

Besides, getting in too deep is the last thing he wants. Diana is the goal.

"It's not a plan," Kendall objects. "Plans involve sheep. Or other livestock."

James cups his cheek, stroking his thumb along Kendall's skin. "Sure they do."

"Sometimes plans have sheiks, too."

"Right." He leans across the gear shift, making his intentions perfectly clear.

Kendall catches the collar of James's shirt in his hands and says, "It wasn't a plan."

James presses their lips together, lets their skin stick so that Kendall can feel it before moving his mouth, gentle. They both taste like burgers, like In-N-Out animal sauce and sea salt and home. James curls his fingertips behind Kendall's ears, tilting his face so that he has better access. Kendall's tongue caresses slick and filthy against James's, coaxing him closer, deeper. James keens for him, tries to pull Kendall up into his lap, but he can't. The gear shift stands between them, a phallic shaped cockblock, and no matter how James pulls at Kendall's sides, he can't get past it. He does, however, manage to pull Kendall's shirt up to his arm pits, the pale jut of his rib bones a stark contrast to the blackening sky. He tries to get the tee past Kendall's shoulders, but Kendall is touching him, touching him, won't stop touching James. He tugs and he tugs, insistent, until Kendall holds his arms up over his head and James can wrench the shirt free.

"God, you're fucking aggro," Kendall mutters, chuckling into the hollow of James's mouth.

"You haven't seen anything," James bites back. He runs his hands across the planes of Kendall's bare spine. "Want you."

"Need more room," Kendall pants, eyeing the back of the BTR Mobile. He's got this cocky shit smirk on, like he knows exactly where he wants this night to go. James is completely down with the idea. He scoots his butt over the center console and into the backseat.

Kendall crawls after him, laying himself long and lean against James's body. He hovers over James's mouth for seconds on end before thumbing the line of his jaw and kissing him again, decisive. James can feel Kendall's heartbeat, a steady pulse under his fingers, and he can taste him; lightning in the back of his throat. His breathing has shallowed out, and James is way more into this than he should be. Kendall's body is hard and hot beneath his hands, and he's pretty enthusiastic about kissing as a whole, enthusiastic and good. Which isn't really fair; James is the one with all the experience. James is the one who's supposed to be wowing Kendall with his tongue. But Kendall's doing a pretty good job of reducing James to a puddle of mush.

Too good a job. James pulls back, gasps, "Have you done this before? With a guy?"

Immediately, Kendall looks away, bites his lip, and James is about to tell him that it's okay, that we'll take it slow, but to his complete and utter shock, Kendall says, "Yeah."

All of James's reassurances die on his lips and he's a little unnerved by the image that flits through his head, and by the dark, angry thing that accompanies it. He thinks of Kendall on all fours, giving it up to some faceless dude, and it's too hot to handle, but it is also smoldering envy in his marrow, a thing that makes him ache.

"Who was it?" James asks, before he can stop himself. He's never been the greatest with the whole brain to mouth censor thing.

"Does that really matter?" Kendall asks, his voice low and broken from how much he wants James. And it shouldn't, but it does. It matters.

"Tell me," James urges, pulling back. He has no idea what he's doing, why he's waiting when he's already got Kendall half-naked and willing, and more so why he's pissed off. He feels like he's wearing slimy, wet clothes, like he's got this thing sticking to his skin, all uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

"James."

"No, I-" James starts, voice way louder than he intended for, echoing sharp and harsh. He stops, tries again, says in a hush, "You told me about everyone, about Jo and- everyone. Why wouldn't you tell me this?"

Kendall shifts, and James can see his cock softening, can see his arousal waning beneath the denim of his jeans. James is totally killing the mood, but he can't shake how mad he is, this unreasonable, insane jealousy that he feels in the pit of his stomach. "Because I'm not proud of it, okay?"

"What do you mean you're not proud of it? No one forced you. Wait." He tastes sour in his mouth. "No one forced you, right?"

"Of course not. Just, I was drunk and stupid and-" Kendall's shoulders slump. "It was Jett, alright?"

James's first reaction to that, before the snakebite venom of jealousy, is inexplicably, "Wait, you let Jett fuck you?"

"Once. Or twice. I don't want to talk about it," Kendall says, his cheeks turning a brilliant red color that is equal parts rage and humiliation. James can feel his words sinking in, can feel how much he wants to punch Jett Stetson in his smug fucking face, and he's not really sure what to do with himself. Jealousy isn't a thing he experiences often, but when he does, it always involves Kendall.

Kendall who got the singing gig that James always wanted.

Kendall, who got the girl that James was after.

Kendall, stupidly gorgeous, stupidly wanting, stupidly stupid.

"Did you fuck Jett too? Was this, like, a thing?" James asks in a rush, and he's not looking at Kendall and his stupid face; he's watching the sky. Just to make sure the clouds are sufficiently fluffy and everything.

"James…"

"Did you?"

Kendall shrugs. "We were in DC for a week. We did a lot of things."

"But why him?"

Kendall's annoyed now, and even from the corner of his eye James can tell that Kendall's significantly more interested in watching the progress of the moon in the sky than in looking anywhere near James's direction.

"Why not him? Geez, you're overreacting. It's not like you've never-" Kendall cuts himself off, tact making a pest of itself. "Let's just drop it."

"I don't want to drop it," James says, grabbing for Kendall's hand when he reaches for his t-shirt. "Why him?"

Kendall stares at James's hand on his wrist like he's considering all the different ways he can break it, and then, slowly he says, "Let me go. Now."

James tightens his grip. Kendall looks like he's about to count to three before James finds himself with a bloody nose and a bruised eye socket, but James rushes to say, "You're dumb," which probably doesn't help anything at all. Now Kendall just looks livid and insulted, which is probably worse.

"Excuse me?"

James yanks Kendall into him, letting go of his wrist to wrap his arms around Kendall's shoulders, burrowing his head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

"Dumb," he mumbles again. Kendall is completely rigid, not shoving James away, but not doing much more than breathing shallowly either. James says, "I wish it had been me."

He knows the words are true the second they leave his mouth, and it scares him more than anything. But Jett does not deserve Kendall.

James would have made it better for him.

James would have made sure that Kendall had no regrets.

He can actually feel Kendall sigh. "Why would you want that, dude?"

"Because I thought…I've never done this before. I thought it was going to be something we were doing together."

"Hey, hey," Kendall grabs at his chin, tilting James's face up so that he can see. He's searching, looking for something in James's expression that James doesn't know how to fake, but it must be there anyway, because Kendall actually smiles. "We are doing it together. Do you see anyone else here?"

James shakes his head, still sulking.

"Just because it's not the first time I've done it doesn't mean it's not the most important, okay? I want you. It…" Kendall squeezes his eyes shut and admits, "It was always supposed to be you anyway."

Third grade, James thinks. He feels this inexplicable fondness unfold in his chest, affection that he can feel like golden light all over.

"You're so dumb. Why are you so dumb?" James asks, pulling Kendall's lower lip between his teeth, kissing and licking and fitting their mouths together until Kendall is kissing him back, needy.

James can take him right now. He wouldn't even have to worry about hurting him, because Kendall's gone and gotten all the truly messy parts over with. He's ready, hard, eager. There is nothing stopping either of them from getting it on right there in suburbia.

Nothing except James.

The last thing he wants right then is to grapple with feelings, but all he can do is feel. How did he ever think seducing Kendall would be the same as it is with all of his other conquests? He's having a lot of trouble sorting through his thoughts, but there is third grade and how Kendall wanted James to be his first and the constant mantra of Diana, fighting for attention. James is actually grateful when Kendall's phone goes off, the jaunty ringtone that belongs to Katie filling the car.

"Not answering it," Kendall mumbles, "Not. Answering."

James kisses the corner of his mouth. "It's Katie. She wouldn't call if it wasn't important. Get it."

Kendall groans long and loud, but he obediently digs his cell out of his jeans, expression mutinous. It takes all of a minute to assess that they're needed back at the Palmwoods, immediately.

"Gustavo won't actually kill Carlos, will he?" James worries, shifting the car into gear.

"He might. Katie said Carlos nearly blew up the studio." Kendall's laugh is smothered beneath his t-shirt. Kendall is pulling the thing back on, his wiry frame disappearing from view. Unfulfilled desire pools in James's stomach. He could have had Kendall arching over him, riding his dick under the glow of the moonlight. The kid's apparently had a huge crush on James forever. Knowing Kendall, it wouldn't take much more than a few quick fucks to turn that crush into full on love. James could be in Diana's pants before next week is out, if he really plays his cards right. So why didn't he tell Kendall to ignore the phone and just have his wicked way with him?

James doesn't know. He sulks the entire way back home, pissed off at himself and his idiotic sense of loyalty and the jealousy of Jett Stetson that still festers in his stomach.

Maybe that's it, he thinks. He's not used to performance anxiety, but maybe he wants to ensure that his first time with Kendall is infinitely better than Kendall's first time with Jett.

The problem there is that Kendall's probably not going to come forward with any intimate details. Which means that James will have to ask…Jett. Ugh. He didn't like that douchebag on principal before; no one gets to call Kendall strange looking except for James. Now he hates him with the kind of vitriolic fervor he usually reserves for opposing hockey teams and the dudes who beat James out on auditions. Striking up a conversation about his sex life will probably be unpleasant.

It has to be done. If James is going to go through with the whole hideous process of breaking Kendall's heart, he might as well make sure the sex is nothing short of spectacular.

He doesn't let himself dwell on how the idea of breaking Kendall's heart grows more repulsive by the second. If Kendall's liked James since third grade, it's his own moronic fault. Of all people, Kendall should know that James comes with a warning label that reads danger. He's never once tried to hide how much of a player he is, not to his friends.

Fuck. Thinking hurts.

James gives Kendall a quick peck on the lips before they make their way into 2J, which is basically a disaster scene. Gustavo is yelling at the top of his lungs, Carlos is cowering behind Logan, and Katie is standing her ground between the two groups with the iron will of a four star admiral. When she sees Kendall, she says, "Great, you're here. I'm sick of dealing with this. Real Blood is on HBO."

Kendall does what he does best, mitigating for Carlos and negotiating with Gustavo. James doesn't bother watching. He hides out in the safe haven of his room, waiting for the phone call that he knows is coming.

It takes half an hour. "How'd your date go?"

"Fine," James snaps, "How was Hollywood?"

"Shallow and vapid, just like you." Diana replies easily. "Sounds like someone didn't get laid tonight."

"Yeah, well. I've got time."

"Not much. I'm headed back to Minnesota with your father at the end of the month."

"I'll get it done, Di."

"I've got complete faith in you, Jamie. Oh, and you're coming to dinner tomorrow night."

"With you?" James brightens.

"And your dad."

"No. Absolutely not."

There is a pause, and then, "You're coming, James."

The voice that replies is not Diana's. James swallows, thickly, insides tinged with equal parts anger and anxiety.

"Uh. Hi…dad."

A/N: Please review!