AN: first of all, thank you for all your reviews, I always try to reply to every single one, thing that I will do next time, I'm so sorry for the delay, really, I usually update regularly but I've been very busy! Someone asked me if I was letting go this fic, of course not, I'll keep writing it! Hope you'll forgive me, sorry again.
Thirty minutes later, her bed was full of dresses; she was sitting on the floor, phone in her hand, interrogating silently herself like she was reflecting about world-systems theories in her mind. She was like this, ready to face every possible and mortal threat that would have scared away every sane person , but also ready to succumb and to question everything because she couldn't find a decent dress to wear. It wasn't like she was obsessed with that kind of stuff but that event was important, at least for her case, and her actual condition led her to think she could have been believable as undercover model, a thought not triggered by some guilty presumption or by a really developed self-esteem, but rather by desperation. She kept watching the phone in her hand while her pride seemed to fight with her fingers not to make her enter his number. She couldn't go to a fashion party with a thirty dollars dress and that thought finally overcame her stubbornness.
"Miss me already?" He greeted her just after two rings.
Only three words and she wanted to end the conversation.
"Look Mr. Jane, don't make this harder than it already is, I need a favor." She said annoyed.
He chuckled in response. "Another? Teresa I'm becoming your life-saver."
"I need a dress for the party." She said out of the blue.
"A dress?" He replied surprised. "Do you know I don't have a dress shop, right?" He asked amused.
"Oh come on, you make photoshoots with hundreds of models every week, I'm sure you'll have a room full of that crap somewhere." She replied.
He had it indeed. "Well, if you consider a thousand-dollar Gucci and his friends "crap", then yes, I can help you." He heard her breath of relief through the phone and he had the confirmation that this case really mattered to her like he had suspected.
"Thank you." She said after some seconds of silence and he could recognize the sincere gratitude in her voice.
"Anything for you, Teresa." He replied without even realizing how much he meant it.
The party would have been in three days but she needed to have everything ready. She hadn't said to anyone about this event, not even to her team and her boss, a thought that made her feel guilty. She didn't know the reason of all this secrecy, she only knew it was incredibly wrong; the truth was she wanted to solve that case alone and to escape from that nightmare with her forces, maybe because she felt a sort of inexplicable possessiveness toward it, toward that maze with no exit that had slowly incorporated her life. She had found something that really mattered to her, finally, and she didn't care if it was also destroying her a little. There was also the fear of failure, another condition that had made her be silent about the party. She had just failed once, she couldn't afford the luxury to do it again. She was alone, alone against an enemy that she still needed to frame. There was only another person who knew about her desperate attempt and that person was a total stranger. Then, why she felt like she had finally found someone who could share that feeling of inadequacy that belonged to her? They say sometimes it's easier with strangers to be really who you are; she just needed to explain that persistent attraction she had felt the moment their eyes had met for the first time though.
The phone in her hand rang again, signaling that she had received two messages, the first was from Marcus, it said he missed her in his bed, probably because he was not in Sacramento until next week due to work business, the second was from Jane, he was wondering if she wore better a Gucci or a Versace. The first message annoyed her , the second made her blush, that kind of blush that made you smile a little.
She spent three days working on a different homicide , not a word about the Red Bull case that had been left in the background due to the inexistent advancements; she didn't lose time in showing to her colleagues her resentment even if she knew they were questioning about her too calm resignation. Teresa Lisbon didn't give up easily, that was the greatest quality they recognized in her and that attitude didn't belong to her. In addition to her determination, people loved the external calm with which she seemed face the world every day; that kind of calm didn't seem to have followed her the afternoon of the party though, where she found herself in front of his studio trying to collect that self-confidence that made her believable and respected in front of everyone. She was greeted by his assistant who told her Mr. Jane couldn't be there but that he had left her some indications about what she needed to do; that's why she had been led in a big room full of dresses of every kind. That walk-in closet was bigger than her actual bedroom and that thought brought an incredulous smile on her mouth. She didn't want to spend the afternoon closed in that place, wearing expensive dresses even if the thought was really appealing, so she chose one of the first dress, it was a Chanel and she almost fainted, reading the price of the garment. The price of the external beauty. When she was about to leave the studio, she heard some noises, like whispered words, coming from another room not really distant to that paradise of dresses; she didn't know if it was her detective instinct or more her childish curiosity that made her approach to that mysterious source. She was sure though that was Patrick Jane the man who was talking behind that semi-open door.
"We made different deals, don't tell me you've changed your mind now." He said worried. "I'm not ready, I don't want to fail even this, please, it's too important." Then he stopped talking and she didn't realize she was holding her breath, paralyzed on her spot. Five seconds later that semi-open door was wide open in front of her. Jane looked at her, glossy eyes and accelerated breath, for a moment they kept staring at each other, almost breathing concurrently. She noticed his bloodshot eyes and the almost frightening intensity of his gaze made her retreat and tighten the dress that she was holding like it was some kind of protection.
"I.. I think I lost my way, I heard some voices and so I thought to ask for help, sorry." She said, lowering her eyes and sounding ridiculous even to herself; She hadn't a great sense of direction but the studio wasn't exactly an impenetrable maze.
"That's ok Teresa." He said, trying to gain back his mask made by coolness and composure. "You need to take the stairs." He finished, never leaving her eyes.
"See you tonight, then." She said in one breath, almost running away.
"Teresa?" He called her when she was already at the bottom of the stairs. "You owe me a dance."
And she rediscovered his tempting smile once again.
The event was in a luxurious villa in Sacramento, one of those buildings that she had always looked from afar with the consciousness that she would have never entered in a place like that . Now, wearing a long black and glittering Chanel and with her hair in a messy but fashion braid, everything seemed possible, even despite the vertiginous heels she was wearing. It wasn't like she could claim to be a model without even reach a decent height. She spotted Jane in a black tuxedo who was talking and probably trying to seduce a beautiful girl, twenty years or a little more, one of his many flirts for sure and she picked a flute of Champagne, trying to find some liquid comfort. Some models behind her were talking animatedly and she wasn't surprise about the subject of their conversation, made by sentences like,
"Look that son of a bitch, he's so hot."
"I'm still waiting for his call, that bastard."
"Once he made me come only with his voice."
She hadn't had the promptness to censure her mind about the images evoked by that last statement though. She took another flute of Champagne and emptied it in one gulp.
"I never understand why they waste time, cooking all this food when none of us can actually eat it." A girl that she hadn't noticed, said to her, picking a flute from the same tray. "Hi, my name is Liz!"
"Teresa, nice to meet you." Lisbon replied.
"I've never seen you before, are you new?" She asked curious.
Like a thirty and something years model could be new.
"Actually, I work for more independents magazines, you know.."
"right." The girl said, not really convinced. "I've seen that you like Champagne too." She smiled.
"Well, a Champagne diet sounds always appealing." Lisbon replied.
"That's my diet actually." Liz said, laughing. "Or better, Champagne and these." She whispered, showing a little bottle of pills in her purse.
"Are they diet pills?" She asked innocently.
"Kind of, let's say." Liz smirked back, winking at her.
"Are they legal?" Lisbon kept asking.
"I can't believe you don't know them, girl.. every model in this place actually uses them, I'm sure."
"Where can I find them?" She asked, pretending to be interested.
"Really?" Liz replied amused, "you don't know him? It's like our lifesaver, we all love him.. it's such a good man, he helps people, he does charity.. he's also handsome and rich, the lucky combination.."
"Who is he?" She interrupted her.
"His name is.."
Ladies and gentleman welcome to this charity event in favor of the communities of the villages in Amazon, we are very touched by your response and..
A big and tall man started to speak on the microphone, interrupting the conversation. At the end of the speech Liz was disappeared. Lisbon had lost her; she had been so close to know something more but that distraction had ruined everything. Suddenly the notes of a familiar song started to play, she looked toward the dance floor and she saw Jane smiling and looking at her like he was waiting for something. She rolled her eyes, she put the empty flute on the tray and then she walked toward him. They met in the middle on the dance floor and without even realizing it, she found herself in his arms like she had accepted his silent invitation. They started to dance and Jane put his right hand on her bare back, bare because the dress had a lovely low cut at the back, detail that she had discovered too late.
"I thought it would have been more difficult to convince you to dance with me." He whispered in her ear.
"You should thank the Champagne then, Mr. Jane! I'm too tipsy to say no." She replied.
"Good to know, Pocahontas." He said, toying with the ribbon of her braid. "even if you seem more one of those Irish fighters, all freckles, emeralds and pale skin." He continued, leaving the ribbon and making his fingertips dance against herskin.
"Look, I found something." She said to him, trying to temper the electricity in the air. "A girl, Liz, told me about the pills and about someone who's like a protector for them, I don't know maybe he's a drug dealer or something else.. do you have any idea?"
"No, really, I do know Liz though." He replied.
"Right, like you know every girl in this room." She said, trying not to sound annoyed.
He smiled at her, almost pleased by her comment. "Well, I could dig about it a little, but I need something in return.. I think I deserve a special thanks for this party in any case, you know." He told her.
"Of course, what is it?" She asked sarcastically.
He put his mouth dangerously near her ear, his lips almost touching her earlobe. "I want to photograph you."
"What?" She replied loudly.
"You heard me the first time, sad eyes.. a few pics and I will help you."
"Why do you want to photograph me?" She asked shyly.
"Because I fell in love with your face." He answered immediately.
She didn't know what to say so she replied with the first stupid thing passed in her mind.
"You know, I won't sleep with you, right?"
He laughed, tightening his arms around her. "Who talked about sleeping, Teresa?"
They danced in silence until the end of the song, her hands stuck on his shoulder blades, she didn't know why she felt the urge to put them under his jacket and to enjoy under her fingers the softness of his shirt impregnated by his spicy cologne.
I know you think you'd never be mine
Well that's okay, baby, I don't mind
That shy smile's sweet, that's a fact
Go ahead, I don't mind the act
Here you come all dressed up for a date
Well one more step and it'll be too late
Blue, blue ribbon in your hair
Like you're so sure I'll be standing here.
She didn't know if it was the Champagne but the song they were dancing seemed strangely written for them. She shook her head, trying to gain back some common sense in her head. She hadn't asked him about their strange encounter of that afternoon and it didn't seem that he wanted to talk about it anyway; she decided to respect his discretion, maybe because she lived in discretion every single day of her life and she had learnt to appreciate that special protection. He had told her he was in love with her face, and that was it, a silly crush he had developed for her funny face; she didn't find her face interesting, but if that could help her with her case she was ready to please him.
"Jane?" She asked him the moment the song was over. "Who is behind all of this?"
He looked confused at her.
"I mean, who made this campaign for the communities in Amazon?" She continued.
He kept looking at her, surprised by her question, and then he replied.
"Thomas Volker."
Ok, I hope you liked this chapter, please let me know, I need your reviews and I swear Tommy Volker's presence has nothing to do with my crush on Henry Ian Cuscik.