*All the characters from The Mortal Instruments belong to Cassandra Clare and her incredible mind. Nothing will ever be owned by the author of this story. ;)*

Musical Preference:

Starstrukk- 3OH!3 (Featuring Katy Perry)

X & Y- Coldplay

Radioactive- Kings of Leon

Chapter Two

"And then he kept talking sweet nothings in my ear, Clary!" began the dark-haired beauty from in front of her with a soft tone that changed immediately to angry. "I mean, I'm at a party, not fucking prom!" Clary looked over her coffee at her friend.

Clary shook her head at the woman complaining in front of her. With her height, curves, dark ebony hair, and deep-set dark eyes, Isabelle Lightwood was drop-dead gorgeous. And she knew it. She was also her best friend.

"I take it you were bored. You should've invited Simon. Also, why didn't you leave the man alone." Isabelle, who had been looking out the window, looked at her friend. She shrugged taking a sip of her coffee.

"I know I should've. Honestly? I think I was just being sympathetic. The guy was trying too hard." The redhead raised her eyebrows simultaneously.

"Since when does that ever bother you?" She asked carefully. Isabelle let out a long breath.

"Simon's fault, I bet. I guess I'm softening up . . ." she looked back at the people walking on the sidewalk, her eyes taking a faraway look. All too soon, her eyes came back to focus. "Anyways, how was that night for you?"

Instantly, Clary remembered the hot morning she had had the day before. She bit her lip as she felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Uh, nothing . . ." she said while looking down at her coffee. She hoped the canopy of red curls had covered her blush.

Isabelle gasped audibly. "Clary! Y—you—oh my, Clary! Hot night?" she wriggled her eyebrows suggestively while Clary slapped her arm.

"Izzy!" Clary scolded. "Uh, I don't really rememb—"

"Clarissa Morgenstern . . . ? You got wasted? At a party?"

Clary's cheeks flushed immediately. "It was just a few drinks . . ." She let out a deep breath and fell back on her chair. "I was just trying to get away. From reality." Isabelle nodded not wanting Clary to remember the reason for her explanation.

"So . . . ? Talk!"

"I don't remember anything," said Clary and put her forehead on her hand. It still hurt quiet a bit. Isabelle nodded again, suddenly getting in business mode.

"Where did you wake up yesterday?" At that, Clary blushed again remembering the door and the feel of his body pressed against hers. His hand on her back, almost covering it whole. She heard Isabelle gasp.

"Who the hell did you sleep with?" Isabelle all but squealed.

"Shh!" she said and took another gulp of her dark coffee before responding. "I, well, a man?"

Isabelle gasped again. "You don't know who it was!" She sat back in her seat and swept her hair off her shoulder. "Damn. This is worse than I thought . . ."

Clary sighed. "I second that statement." Isabelle looked at her expectantly. Clary frowned. "What?"

"So . . . What was he like?"

Clary thought about that question—not that it was hard, but just remembering the Golden Man brought heat flooding up to her ears. With his hair, eyes, back, torso, abs . . . Down there . . .

"Well, he was blonde. Curly blonde. Tan skin. Great body. A good foot taller than me. And his eyes," she paused, thinking of the gold intensity she had seen, "they were ocher. Like honey."

When Clary looked up from her coffee, she saw Isabelle watching her with her head cocked. "Ocher eyes? Or, like, really light brown?"

Clary shook her head at her friend. "Those eyes could never be called brown."

Isabelle sighed, and Clary thought it sounded a bit defeated. "Tattoos?" Clary noticed that Isabelle was asking as if she already knew the answer. Clary narrowed her eyes.

"Yes. You know him," it wasn't a question.

Isabelle played with her earring as she began talking. "Clary," she paused and sighed, "Congrats. You slept with Jace Wayland." Clary's face was blank as she noticed that Isabelle had said that emotionless—without her usual excitement. She raised her eyebrows at Isabelle, waiting for an explanation.

"And . . .?"

"I really don't know him. I've heard the basics. Great job, gorgeous body, good sex. The three G's any woman looks for." She sighed. "Seems like you hit the jackpot." Clary pondered that a bit more. There was something that was in her brain and she just had to ask.

"His name is . . . Jace?"

Isabelle laughed. "Damn, you were drunk!"

w.^.w

"Jace!" He heard her, but he shrugged her off and began occupying his mind with useless thoughts.

Circular motion, he thought as he brushed his teeth.

"Jace!" he rolled his eyes. He never had thought her voice sounded so whinny before.

Suddenly, her figure was in vision of the bathroom mirror.

"Didn't you hear me?" she asked him scolding, but he could see the predatory gaze her eyes had as she passed them through his naked chest. They looked disappointed as they took in the towel wrapped around his waist. Jace smirked to himself and went to spit the toothpaste in his mouth before rinsing.

"Aline. Good morning to you too." He walked to the other side of the bathroom for a towel.

"Good morning. Now, will you come? A package came for you." Jace looked back at his wife. Her usual black straight hair was in ringlets that framed her face. Her brown eyes were marked with navy blue eyeliner and shadow. Her body was still covered in a coral knee-high robe. Jace always wondered why woman would prep up so early.

He raised an eyebrow. "Package? I didn't order anything. Did you?" She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

"No. I always tell you before I order something." He walked back to the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Okay, then." He passed her by the door and went into his closet to look for a suit. "I'll go check it later."

"Fine," she replied and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked back at her with two suits in hand; khaki and dark blue.

"Are you doing anything today?" He asked her as she pointed to the blue suit. He nodded and put the khaki back in the closet.

"I was thinking of going out at around midday. What time will you be back from the office?" She laid back on her elbows and looked as he changed in front of her.

"Actually," he said while zipping his pants up, "I think Camille said something about accompanying her to an art exhibition." He shook his head at Aline.

"Camille . . . At an art exhibition?" She shrugged. "She's always been different."

Jace chuckled. "That's the nice way of saying." Aline went up to him as he finished putting his white dress shirt. She picked out a dark green tie and began tying it around his neck as he tucked his shirt in. Aline smiled up at him and patted him lightly in the chest as she finished.

"All ready." As Jace saw her smile, he was reminded that somewhere inside him, he loved the woman in front of him. He really did. Just how he had loved Kaelie.

And look where that got her, he thought sourly.

"I think I should be going," he told her as he put a piece of her hair behind her ear. She nodded and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Get out of here," she grinned and pushed him out of the room. He put his suit jacket on, grabbed the package, and started walking towards the front door of the condo. "Oh, and Jace?" He turned around with a raised eyebrow. She was leaning against the doorframe—similar to how she had looked in the bathroom—her face casted in shadows. "I love you."

Jace kept his face blank, void of emotion. He started walking backwards, keeping his eyes on her all the way, and right before closing the door, he called out, "Love you too."

w.^.w

"Wow," was the first word that came from Clary's mouth as she gaped at the painting in front of her.

"That is . . . Morbid," said Simon as he stood beside her. Clary grinned.

"And that's the thing. There is nothing showing death or blood or destruction. It's all in the colors, the strokes, even the form in which the yellow-slash-orange circle is covered by the green."

"The colors are too deep for my liking." Isabelle inputted as she grabbed Simon's hand.

"You mean muted," Clary muttered almost to herself as she continued to see the painting.

They were at an art exhibition that was sponsoring a few artists. Jocelyn Morgenstern had been given the opportunity of being one of those artists after she sold a painting to a Mrs. Graymark—who happened to be he host of the evening's art exhibition. At the moment, they were looking at a charcoal painting of dark colors; oranges, yellows, greens, and blues.

Clary took her eyes away from the painting and looked over at the couple who were her friends. Simon was wearing a dark gray suit and his brown hair was messily arranged. His glasses made him look—for a lack of better wording—interesting. Isabelle next to him, though, looked out of place. With her beautiful dark waves raining down on her tight burgundy dress, Isabelle was ready for a fashion show.

Isabelle had become a close friend of Clary's once she had started dating Simon, her best friend. Clary wished something like their relationship would happen to her. Their eyes always shone when they saw each other and they looked happy. She felt like a shadow of their spirit next to them.

At the moment, Isabelle was looking down as Simon whispered something in her ear. Clary could see the tips of Isabelle's mouth going upwards.

God damn them and their adorableness, she thought.

Out loud, though, she said, "I feel like a third wheel now."

"That's what I told them," a deep voice responded. Clary whipped her head to her left to see someone she hadn't expected. "I don't think we are anymore, though."

"John," she said with a grin as she turned her head to the painting once again. "What do you think?"

"Let's see . . ." He paused for a few seconds and looked at the painting. "I think it's my favorite next to the one in the second aisle with abstract cute lines." Clary quirked her lips up a bit. "Though, I have to admit, this one is different. It looks like an old eye that is sprouting out grotesquely."

"Ah," Simon said, "So there is the morbidity." Clary rolled her eyes at her brother.

"Yeah, I'm definitely not getting the captions of my paintings from you anytime soon." He looked over at his smirking face. "Let's move on. You messed up the illusion of this one for me."

"Glad I was of any help to you, sister." They both laughed. Simon and Isabelle left to go see more abstract paintings while the siblings went to self portraits.

She looked at her brother while they walked. He was dressed for the occasion with a nice black suit. His light blonde hair was neatly cropped showing his sparkling dark eyes. She smiled to herself.

He is the same person from nine months ago, Clary, she told herself. Nothing changed.

"When did you get back?" she asked as they looked at the painting of a deformed woman.

Well, if you twist your head this way . . . Never mind, she thought.

"This morning. I wanted to surprise mom." Clary looked at her brother in surprise.

"Holy Lord . . . And where did that come from?" Jonathan smirked.

"I think I forgot some special date while I was out," he said.

"I believe so. What was it . . . Ah, Martin Luther King Jr.'s." Clary smiled sweetly. "Oh, also her birthday! My birthday! And mother's day!" Clary gasped mockingly. "And father's day." Clary shook her head as her brother scowled.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. It's a whole other world over there, C. I couldn't just come and go as I wished, and you know that."

Clary sighed. "I know. Sorry. We just really missed you." John smiled and hugged his sister.

"Yeah, I also missed my favorite redhead—"

"Oh, John—" Suddenly, he let her go.

"—Ariana Grande! Did you know they don't pass Nickelodeon over there at India?" Clary raised her eyebrows.

"How old are you? Twenty-six? Oh . . . no! You're sixteen again!" Clary giggled. "It's sort of pedophile-ish that you like Ariana Grande." John half smiled at her.

"It's not. She reminds me of you." Clary opened her mouth to respond to that when John put his finger under her chin and closed her mouth. "Later. I see mom." She followed his line of vision until it rested on—what looked like—the only other redhead in the room. "She doesn't look any older than you, C."

Clary glared at her brother. "Well, aren't you the charmer?"

He grinned at her. "Positively. Love you." He hugged her and right before leaving he whispered in her ear, "Happy Birthday."

He jogged to where Jocelyn was talking to a few people. Clary rolled her eyes at his retreating brother and went back to searching for the neck of the deformed woman.

w.^.w

"Now that we are here," he began as they walked inside, her hand nestled safely in the crook of his elbow, "will you tell me why we are here?"

Jace looked over at her friend. Her green eyes sparkled and danced as they took in the place before her. She licked her lips and looked up at him. She put her hand other hand on top of his arm.

"All in due time, Mr. Wayland," she said and begin pulling him inside the gallery. He rolled his eyes but went along with it. "Let's begin with the watercolors! I've always loved those."

"After you, Madame," he replied sarcastically. Camille grinned at him, her eyes rimmed with gold. Along with her eye shadow, she was wearing a low-cut gold dress that almost reached her knees. It molded to her curves perfectly, and by having her hair in a high chignon, she showed most of her back.

Jace, looking around, noticed that all eyes in the room where on her.

Or the both of us, Jace thought with a smirk.

"Stop that," scolded Camille with a smile. "They are looking at me." It sometimes scared Jace how easily she could read him. She shook her head as they walked. "You are too full of yourself."

"I know," he replied. He put a hand on her back and walked her over where he had already spotted the watercolor paintings.

"So," she tilted her head to the side, "I don't like it." Jace looked at her.

"Aren't we supposed to just look?" he asked.

"Oh, right!" She smiled at him. "I have an empty wall." He began to walk to the next painting.

"So, that's why you brought me here? You needed a painting? Why not go on the internet?" Camille gasped from behind him. He turned around to look at her. She looked offended.

"Jace Wayland," she began, scolding again. Jace almost laughed. "Don't you know that you just can't buy paintings on the internet?"

He lifted his arms up in the air. "What's so wrong about it again?" Camille narrowed her eyes at him before she shook her head and walked in front of him.

"Forget about it, Jace. Just help me look for something, will you?" Camille sounded annoyed. That may be one of the things that Jace loved about Camille. She never stood to his bullshit. Right at this moment, Jace had no idea on what he had done.

After going through the watercolors, Camille decided she didn't want one of those, and they moved onto the charcoals. ++ All the while, they had been silent but for a few words on thoughts about each painting.

Looking at a nasty eye with dark colors, Jace decided to get drinks for the two of them. Camille agreed and stayed watching the eye with her head cocked.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he touched the elbow of a sweet looking brunette. She smiled up at him and he smirked. "I was wondering where the drinks are at." Her blue eyes danced with excitement.

"Ah, yes," she bit her lip and her eyes moved towards the room. Grabbing his upper arm, she turned him around and, with a finger, pointed to a table with refreshments. "Right over there." He grinned down at her and she blushed.

"Thank you," he said, winked at her, and began walking towards the table.

He noticed that most of the people were around that area. There were a few cocktail tables with two or three people surrounding them. He walked up to the table and asked the bartender for water and a coke. Once he got the drinks, he turned around and started walking back to where he supposed Camille would be. ++

He turned from a corner on an aisle and saw her back. She was looking up at a simple charcoal painting. It had what looked like S's in different angles. But, as Jace looked closer, it had straight lines as well.

Suddenly, a burst of color brought his eyes back, and looking at what the color was made him stop dead in his tracks.

Her, he thought.

She was wearing a dark purple dress. It left her shoulders bare with a heart-shaped front. It hugged her upper torso, and, around the waist, it fell lightly to rest inches above her knees. Her red hair was pin straight and ended close to the small of her back. Her eyes were surrounded by a fair green halo that made her eyes bigger; brighter.

He saw as she smiled politely at Camille and introduced herself. Camille, looking beyond delighted, greeted her. She smiled, and, at the same time, they both looked back at the painting. She was making hand movements while Camille talked to her. Jace could not hear them yet, just a soft murmur. As he got closer, Jace could hear them talking about some meaning in the painting.

He smirked as he got closer. Standing right behind them, and neither of the two women had noticed him.

"Straight, huh?" He said looking up at the painting. Feeling her eyes on him, he continued, "I liked it better curly." Finally, he looked down at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her green eyes looked surprised and—was that regret? he asked himself.

Jace looked over at Camille, who had her eyes narrowed in question. He passed her the cup of water. That seemed to snap her out of her reverie. "What the hell are you talking about, Jace?" He noticed how Clary's eyes widened at the end of Camille's sentence.

"Her hair," he said and sipped out of his cup. She raised a hand to her hair subconsciously. Jace looked back at Camille who had an eyebrow raised.

"Wait a second," she said. Pushing Jace aside with a quick but firm, "Move," Camille began talking. "You know him?"

Clary looked from Camille to Jace. She bit her lip uncertainly. Suddenly, her eyes sparked up with something. She looked at Jace with a sweet smile. "Nope. Blondie and I don't know each other."

Jace's eyebrow rose at that. Camille was grinning.

"Wait," she said, again, "You're Clary," she said to her, and then to Jace she said, "This Clary?"

When Jace looked back at Clary, he saw her with her head cocked and questioning eyes.

"I don't know about 'this Clary'. All I know is that I am Clary." She pointed at Camille, "You are Camille Belcourt, or so I hope." And she pointed at Jace and crossed her arms, "And you are Jace Wayland."

So she does know my name, he thought.

"No 'or so I hope' for me?" Jace asked Clary with a half smile.

Clary's eyebrows rose as she looked at Camille. She burst out laughing.

"Oh, my! Clary, I knew I would like you!" Clary sighed.

"I'm still confused," she murmured almost to herself, but Jace and Camille heard her.

Camille laughed. "I'll explain later, yeah? In the meantime, do you know who painted this? I think I would love to buy it." Clary's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted.

"This? Isn't it too simple for your taste, Cam?" Both the green eyed ladies turned to look at him with disapproval written all over in their faces.

"It's for my olive wall. I can't have colors. And this," she pointed behind her, "Is not simple." Camille turned to Clary. "So, do you know the artist?"

"I," she began and looked at Jace with challenge in her eyes, "Helped paint this. It is my mother's and mine." Jace grinned at her distressed face. She narrowed her eyes and looked back at Camille. "My mom does the deals so—"

"Clary!" They all heard. Clary wiped her head so fast, her hair floated for an instant.

Jace followed her line of vision to a blonde man and a tall woman with a sexy dark red dress. He could see the blonde man narrowing his eyes at him. Jace smirked.

"Clary, mom was looking for you," said the guy. Jace didn't miss that he had said "mom".

"Oh, okay. Uhm, John, Isabelle, this is Camille and Jace. Camille, Jace this is my brother, Jonathan and my friend Isabelle." They all shook hands. Jace noticed a strange exchange of eye glances between the dark haired girl—Isabelle—and Clary. "Do you know what mom needs me for?"

"No idea. She just told us to get you," said Isabelle dismissively.

"Okay, well, Camille wants to see if she can buy this one, so," Clary paused to look at Camille who nodded, "Come on."

As they walked, a guy with glasses tagged along and Isabelle grabbed his hand. Jonathan and Camille were conversing quietly. Clary was walking with purpose. Jace grinned and took a sip of his coke before moving to stand next to her.

"Forgot about me so soon, Ginger?" He saw her stiffen and he grinned. "I thought yesterday morning was memorable."

"I don't think so." She glanced up at him. "Was it memorable to you, Blondie?" She drawled the last word with a large amount of venom.

"Not at all, babe." He grinned as she looked up at him. He bent down to her ear and whispered one more time for emphasis. "Not at all."

So, supposedly, I had this "pattern," so to speak. I would update Remembering Sunday, then Black Ace and then Remembering Sunday and so on. And I tried to do that. Unfortunately, my muse was on Black Ace. . So, I went ahead and wrote Black Ace. :D
Now, school starts next Monday for me, so my goal is to update Remembering Sunday then Black Ace before I go back. *sigh*

Special thanks to the same girls always. BlondeHairBlueEyes14 for threatening a spam attack. ;) camibandlover for having word wars with me! xDD And 07XReflectional for reading one of the scenes and telling me I was being paranoid. :D Love you three!

Now, I'm going to be completely honest. The Jace/Aline scene has been my favorite scene of all time. I love it even more than any Remembering Sunday scene, and that's to say a lot.

:D I'm sorry I haven't responded to any of the reviews, but I will. I had a bit of problem with my email account. BUT IT HAS BEEN FIXED. :D Expect replies if you...

Review? :D