It was really hard to write dreary, depressed Maria, because that's not how Maria was on the show and that's not how she's been thus far in the fic. But she's going through something heartbreaking, and she's actually got a lot more to go through, so . . . we'll see how things go with her.As for Maria...I hope she will soon be the Maria we know and love. Ass kicking.
Thank you! I think the 521 characters are the most dynamic characters I've ever worked with, so it's fun to take the nice guy and have him infuriate people. Fun but sad.it's really amazing to see how the most likeable character of this fic-Michael- can transform to the recently most dislikeable person. it shows what an amazing writer you are April.
Christina:
Under the influence of Isabel.Aww, I like Michael. I really do. I just don't like him under the influence...of Isabel.
Nice.I think you'll like this update then.I'm such a horrible person, but I want Liz to go with Max to Phoenix.
Krista:
Oh, so it's just a stereotype then? I still think I'll stay away. Man, I lock my doors just driving through South Omaha in Nebraska.I'll have you know, April, that I live next to Compton, and parts of it are not that bad.
I had a feeling that once Isabel came back, people were going to start being a bit more receptive to Max. I think part of it is that he really has made some changes and become a slightly better person, and part of it is that, like you said, Isabel's back and there's that comparison between the two of them.It's quite interesting how Max really isn't as despicable as he once was. Maybe there's only room for one person of pure evil in that town, and now that Isabel's back, she's it, so Max has to wind down in comparison.
Eva:
Well, we know that Isabel's a liar and she's lied to Michael before, but the big question still remains: Is she lying about this baby?I sill can't believe they did the test! I was pretty sure Isabel would do everything not to do it. I really thought Tess was right. That the baby wasn't Michael's. Now I'm doubting...
Nove:
Well, I'm glad to know you take the time to listen to it! I'm bringing some music by today, too.You know last time I wondered where is the music. I miss April's music. And then today you brought it back. That's awesome! I liked it.
Exactly. Couldn't have said it better myself.I'm so glad he's letting Kyle in and he apologized. That's huge. It means Michael is still in there. He's just having the hardest time finding his centre amongst the chaos.
I'm glad that came across, because Max was definitely up to something in the last part and you'll find out what it is in this part.I'm not sure what Max was up to with Liz. It seemed a little desperate and lonely on his part.
nibbles:
Definitely. Michael is trusting what Isabel says because he feels like, as the father of this baby, he has to trust her. But at the same time, he remembers how she betrayed him, and he knows what she's capable of. Hence the paternity test. Before he delves into this situation any farther, he realizes he has to be sure.Although, I think that his desire to go ahead with the paternity test despite the risks shows that he has some doubts which he's suppressing.
spacegirl23:
Kyle is there to support Michael right now much in the way Tess is supporting Maria. They're good friends.I'm really glad that Kyle's such a good friend, and that he's standing by Michael. While I know that sweet innocent Kyle is not a match to Isabel's professional manipulation, I'm still relieved that part of Michael's pre-baby life is still with him.
Alison:
Possibly both.Ok, so either that means things are going to get awesomely better or horribly worse.
Hell yeah that makes sense! Even though I'm a feminist, I really enjoyed writing that line solely because of the fact that it was directed at Isabel!Is it bad of me that I actually cheered Max for making that sexist baby maker remark to Isabel? Oh god, I'm a horrible person who has just set back feminism back sixty years . I think it was just that it was just so effective in insulting her and pissing her off. If he'd said it to anyone else, I would hate him forever, but seeing as it's Isabel, he's awesome. I'm so contrary . I just HATE Isabel so much that I love it whenever someone gets the upper hand over her, no matter how they do it. Does that make sense?
I think Max is one of the few people out there, perhaps the only person, who has what it takes to get the upper hand on Isabel; and that's why a lot of readers are rooting him on right now. He's, like, the only person who's bad enough to even compete with her.Ginger:
Yeah, I really wanted the "Ladies Night" part to add a little comedy to all this drama. Plus, it was another opportunity to showcase Kyle's persistent bad luck.Priceless. Adds a little humor to an otherwise angsty couple of days all around.
tequathisy:
I find it hilarious that while the world is falling down and everybody else is neck deep in the Isabel mess, Max has time to go out and blackmail a politician. Classic.
Max sort of lives in his own world, doesn't he?I don't know, it depends how you look at it. There is a lot more angst, though, so just . . . buckle up and hold on for the ride.I'm so dreading the 'big things' to come. Because I know they're going to be bad thigns. Aren't they?
Alright, so this is a very Dreamer-heavy part. It's kind of a break from some of all the other things going on.
The lyrics included in this part are to a song everyone's probably heard before, "Creep" by Radiohead. (Eva, we have such similar tastes in music!) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWvJ6JL5EGI&fmt=18 I really wanted to find a song that suited Max in this story, and this one totally does. Because no matter what he does, he's always going to be a creep. I love this song.
Part 61
Liz’s mouth kept falling open as Max gave her a tour of the plane. “This is crazy,” she raved. “But nice.”
He loved that awed look in her eyes and was thrilled to be able to impress her.
“My whole house could fit in here,” she said as they strolled into the lounge. It was a serene room with mauve-colored walls, plush white couches, a fully-stocked bar, and a big-screen TV. “I could get used to this,” she said.
“Who couldn’t?” He’d practically lived on that plane in high school back when his father had been introducing him to some of the intricacies of the business.
Liz picked up the remote control for the TV and asked, “Does this work?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
She aimed the remote at the TV and turned it on. It was on a soft-porn cable channel. She laughed excitedly. “Too bad I wasn’t born rich.”
He shrugged. “It has its advantages.”
She turned off the TV and sat down on the couch, looking out the window as the plane flew above the ground. “Wow,” she said. “Everything looks so small down there.”
“Everything is,” Max said, sitting down beside her. “Except my hotels.”
“Of course.” She smiled and kept looking out the window. She actually seemed like she was having a good time.
A male flight attendant approached the two of them with a tray of drinks in his hand. “Mr. Evans, a martini?” he offered.
“Yes, thank you.” Max took a martini off the tray. Alcohol was good stuff.
“And you, Miss?” The flight attendant held the tray out to Liz.
“Oh, um . . .” She hesitantly took a martini as well. “Thanks.”
Max waited until the flight attendant had gone away to raise his glass in the air. “A toast,” he said, “to our Arizonan adventure.”
“Hmm.” Liz gently tapped her glass against his, but she didn’t take a drink when he did. She brought the glass up to her lips, then brought it back down again.
“What?” he said. “I’m not trying to get you drunk so I can sleep with you.”
“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done that to a girl.”
“True enough,” he acknowledged. “But I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides . . . I wouldn’t need to.” He knew immediately after those words left his mouth that he shouldn’t have said them.
“Are you calling me a slut?”
He grinned. No choice but to roll with it now. “Maybe.”
She made a face of disgust and set her drink down on the table next to the couch. “Ugh, I knew . . .” She rose to her feet and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
“Then why’d you come along?”
“Because I’m an idiot,” she stated plainly. “What is this, Max? The private jet, the martinis, the trip out of town . . . is this a date?”
He waited a moment before answering. She didn’t seem to think it was a date, so it wasn’t. “No,” he said. “But if it was, it’d be our first real date, and a damn memorable one at that.”
“We went to your dad’s party that one time,” she reminded him. “I thought that was our first and only date.”
“That doesn’t count.” He’d gone to that party out of obligation, and he’d dragged her along.
“And neither does this,” she said.
“I know.” He could tell she was starting to get pissed at him, and that excited him.
“We’re not getting back together, Max.”
“I sense that.”
“You’re just as despicable as you always were.”
He looked away for a moment. Despicable. He knew it was true, but . . . damn. There was just no good to be found in that word. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “You, too.”
“Max!”
“What? I’m joking. I’m having fun here. You should try it.”
“Max.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I refuse to have any more fun with you ever again, so don’t even try to persuade me.”
He grinned. There she was. There was his mate. She’d been keeping herself restrained ever since she’d gotten back to town, but that fire he saw starting to flicker in her eyes . . . it turned him on.
“Holler at me when we get to Phoenix,” she said, heading down the left hallway of the plane to the smaller lounge. She probably wasn’t going to speak to him again until they got to Arizona.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael walked out of the bathroom that afternoon after his shower, towel-drying his hair. Isabel was sitting on the couch, groaning and reaching around to rub her back. She looked uncomfortable.
“You okay?” he asked, setting his towel down on the arm of the couch.
“Yeah,” she reassured him. “Backache.”
He nodded. “Yeah, you got a lot of weight to carry around there.”
She shot him a look. “Thanks.”
“No, I mean . . . I don’t mean it like that. Just right now, because of the baby.”
“I’ll lose the weight soon,” she said. “Thank God. These backaches are killer, makes me dread what the contractions are gonna feel like.”
He definitely didn’t envy her or any woman when it came time to baby delivery. “Anything I can do?” he asked. He wanted to help.
“A massage?” she ventured. “Please.”
A massage. He thought about it for a moment. Since Isabel had been back, he’d done his best not to have his hands on her, and that had been working out well. But if her back was hurting and he could do something to make it hurt less . . . “Okay,” he agreed, sitting down beside her. She scooted forward on the couch, and he placed his hands on her shoulder blades. “How’s that?” he asked, even though he knew that wasn’t where her back was aching.
“It’s actually my lower back that hurts the most,” she told him.
“Okay.” He moved his hands lower, and then lower still. This felt . . . kind of strange. He began to move both his thumbs around in small circles, hoping to relieve some of the tension. He was normally good at massages, but he doubted this was going to be one of his bests.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” Isabel said encouragingly. She smiled at him and started up a conversation as he massaged her. “You know, we haven’t really discussed what we’re gonna name him. We should decide.”
He felt horrible for not even thinking about it.
“Any ideas?”
Not a one, he thought. He couldn’t just pluck some random name out of the stratosphere, either, so he admitted, “I don’t know. We could look up name meanings online, maybe get some ideas.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Or we could just make it easy on ourselves and name him after his father.”
Which is me, he thought. Even though they hadn’t gotten the paternity test results back, he felt sure of that much. “But do you think people would call him M.J. for Michael, Jr.?” he asked.
She shook her head. “We won’t let them.”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about naming his son after him. It was fine, except . . . he didn’t want to do that unless he was a good role-model, gave his son something positive to live up to. He didn’t feel like a good role model lately. “Well, that’s one option,” he said. He supposed it was a better name than Phillip or Max. “What’s his last name gonna be?”
“Guerin,” she replied without hesitation. “I was thinking about Evan as a middle name, ‘cause . . . well, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“But if you had other ideas . . .”
“Well . . .” He had always imagined passing his own father’s name onto his son, either as a first name or as a middle name. But Isabel probably wouldn’t go for it. “No, that’s fine,” he said, removing his hands from her back. She seemed to be doing better now.
“Michael Evan Guerin,” she proclaimed. “I like it.” She turned to face him and said, “Thank you for the massage.”
He nodded. “You feel better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“Okay.” He stood up, picked his wet towel up off the couch, and headed back to the bathroom. He stopped on the way though and turned back around. “Oh, uh . . . what about Lamaze class?” he asked. He’d spaced it off, but he remembered her talking about it. “Weren’t we supposed to be doing that?”
“We were. But Dr. Monroe told me I’d be better off taking it easy at home these next few weeks. I’m so far along now. Don’t worry, though. I’ve done my own research. I’m ready for labor whenever it happens.”
Good, he thought, because I’m not. “Well, I hope I’ll be able to help.”
“You’ll help a lot just by being there,” she assured him. “But if you want, there’s something you could for do for me before the baby’s born. Or . . . with me, I should say.”
He dropped the towel he was drying his hair with onto the floor and was too nervous to pick it up again. What was she talking about, exactly?
“Lots of moms take pictures of their pregnant bellies to show their kids when they’re older,” she said, “and I have some pictures, but not a lot. I just thought to myself, ‘Hey, your son’s father is an artist. Why not put that talent to good use?’”
At least she wasn’t saying what he’d thought she was saying. “So you want me to . . .”
“I want you to paint me, Michael,” she said. “Again.”
He immediately flashed back to the last time he’d done that. It had been their last morning together. She’d been asleep in bed, and he’d dragged his easel and canvas into the bedroom to paint her. She’d dumped him that night over dinner, while he had the ring in his pocket. “I don’t know,” he said. Ever since then, he’d only painted one other person, and he loved that other person more than he’d ever loved Isabel.
“Come on,” she urged, rising to her feet. “It’ll be fun. And special. You won’t just be painting me, you know. You’ll be painting a part of you.” She placed her hands atop her stomach and asked, “What could be more beautiful than that?”
Maria, he thought, and he felt horrible for thinking it. How could anything be more beautiful than his own son? It wasn’t right. He wasn’t right.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I’m so tired of classes,” Maria groaned when she and Tess got home late that afternoon. They both walked in the apartment and tossed their backpacks on the floor. “I can’t believe we’re only halfway through the semester.”
“I’m working full-time this summer, so it’s not like I’m gonna get a break,” Tess grumbled.
“I’ve gotta find another job.” Maria sighed heavily. “Life sucks.”
“Yeah,” Tess agreed. “But at least we only have a week left ‘til spring break.”
Maria flopped down on the couch, feeling defeated in all aspects. “And what an awesome spring break it’s gonna be. Our vacation plans got shot to hell right about the time the Core Four became two very distinct groups of two.”
“I know,” Tess agreed, throwing herself into her favorite recliner. “But what about the Britney Spears concert? We still have tickets.”
“Yeah, the tickets Michael gave us for Christmas.” Maria just wasn’t in a concert kind of mood. “You should go, Tess, but I don’t think I’m gonna.”
“But I can’t go without you.” Tess frowned. “I’ll just sell the tickets. I’ll probably sell the ones I was gonna use with Kyle, too. God, we’re so depressing.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Maria agreed. She was in a very dark, dreary place, and she was starting to wonder if she’d ever be happy again.
“It’s probably just as well,” Tess said. “Spring break or not, everything’s a mess right now. Who could party at a time like this?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max and Liz arrived at the party about an hour after it had started. They took a limo. It was Liz’s exposure to high-society all over again.
“I can’t believe you bought me this dress,” she said as she and Max headed towards the building. The party was being held in a fancy restaurant called Smithson’s.
“Looks good on you,” Max said. “Besides, you couldn’t show up wearing what you were.”
“Gee, thanks.” Liz pulled up on the sparkling black strapless number Max had purchased. It really was a beautiful dress, but he seemed to be under the false impression that she was a C-cup. It kept falling down. Maybe that was what he wanted. He was such a prick. “Hopefully this is more exciting than your dad’s party,” she grumbled, not at all excited to be there.
“It will be,” he promised, holding out his arm as they approached the entrance. “Ready?”
She took a deep breath and linked her arm with his. She was as ready as she’d ever be.
“Mr. Evans, Ms. Evans,” the doormen greeted as they pulled open the big double doors for them.
Liz wrinkled her forehead in confusion as they walked into the restaurant. Ms. Evans?
There were lots of people standing around talking, just like they had been at the Phillip’s party. There was a man sitting at a grand piano in the corner, lending music to the room. And drinks were flowing. Of course.
“Why’d that guy call me Ms. Evans?” she asked Max as she once again tugged her dress upward with her free hand. “Does he think we’re married?” Wouldn’t that have made her Mrs. Evans?
“No. He thinks you’re Isabel,” Max said. “Let him think that. In fact, let everyone think that.”
“What?”
Max slowly turned to face her, biting his bottom lip. “I have a confession to make.”
“Oh, here we go.” Liz glanced around quickly, trying to scope out the most inconspicuous exit so she could slip out unnoticed.
“I didn’t invite you along just to spend time with you,” he admitted. “I need your help.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. You see that guy over there?” He pointed to a short man with dark grey hair. He was surrounded by people and seemed to be talking to all of them at once. He had a very grandpa-ish vibe to him.
“Who is that?” Liz asked.
“That’s Dale Smithson. This is his party.”
“Really?” He didn’t strike Liz as the corporate type. “Is he a jerk like your dad?”
“No, actually, he’s not. He’s a gold mine, hit it big in the restaurant business . . . hence the restaurant we’re in. It’s a family business, though, see. His wife, his kids . . . everyone’s involved. Oh, how sweet. Now I need his money, but I’m not gonna get it unless I appeal to his good, old-fashioned values. That’s why I brought my ‘sister’ along.”
“Oh my god.” He’d tricked her. She didn’t even know why she was surprised.
“Yeah, see, if you pretend you’re Isabel and he thinks we’re running my business together, that’s gonna appeal to him big time. Twin siblings uniting in the wake of their dear old dad’s death . . . it’s practically poetic. He’s a sucker for that sort of thing. He’ll start to think we’re like-minded business men, and then he’ll considering investing. That’s all I want.”
“Why didn’t you just bring the real Isabel along?” she asked.
“Unwed, pregnant mother-to-be doesn’t exactly scream family values,” he explained. “Besides, she says she won’t help me anymore after I started you and Tess on your little investigation. Good job on that, by the way. A diary steal? I haven’t seen one of those since middle school.”
Liz ignored that last part. “Why not bring one of the women who works for you? They’d actually know what to talk about.”
“True,” he acknowledged, “but none of them would look as good in this dress.” He eyed her up and down suggestively.
“Oh, stop it,” she snapped. “It’s a size too big, and I’m pissed. I thought this was gonna be . . . an excursion, not a scam.”
“Just adjust,” he told her. “Okay?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed in annoyance. Whatever, she thought. She was there now. She figured she might as well give it a shot. “What do I have to do?”
“Lie your ass off. Shouldn’t be too hard.” He grinned. “You see that guy with the Botox smile talking to the bleach blonde with the Double D’s?” He pointed out two people standing close to Dale Smithson.
“Yeah.”
“Kayla and Alan Smithson, the offspring. She heads the PR department. He’s in accounting. They’re our targets.”
“Targets?” He made it sound like a military operation.
“Smithson’s kryptonite.” Max smirked. “If they tell him it’s a good idea to invest with me, he’ll do it without a second thought.”
Liz surveyed the Smithson siblings. They were both very attractive. Kayla had nearly white blonde hair, long, all the way down her back. She was wearing a hot pink dress, and Liz couldn’t spot a bodily imperfection on her. Alan had curly dark hair, broad shoulders, and that whole too-good-looking-to-be-true thing going on. “So . . . what, we’re gonna talk to them?” Liz asked.
“Are you kidding?” he grunted. “We’re gonna flirt with them. It’ll work, trust me. They’re young and horny like us.”
Liz’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not gonna sleep with that guy.”
“I didn’t say you had to. That wouldn’t really promote our fake family values, now would it?”
“Max, you’re so condescending.”
“I know. Now just distract him with coy smiles and cheerful dialogue. And cleavage. The dress should help with that. If it falls down, don’t bother pulling it back up. Then he won’t even realize you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And what’re you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna make Kayla Smithson, who I haven’t seen in years, by the way, feel like the sexiest girl in the room,” he explained. “Although truthfully, that title belongs to you.”
She felt herself blushing, and she hated that he could still have that effect on her. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said.
“Buckle up. Here they come.” Max plastered an incredibly huge, unrealistic smile on his face as Dale, Kayla, and Alan Smithson all approached. Dale was up front, of course, his two children flanking him.
“Mr. Smithson,” Max said, extending his hand for a handshake, “wonderful party.”
“Thank you, Max.” Dale shook his hand, staring at him for a moment. “You know, I do believe it’s been over a decade since I last saw you in person.”
“It’s been awhile,” Max agreed.
“It certainly has.” Dale waited a moment, then said, “I was sorry to hear about your father.”
“It was somewhat unexpected,” Max said, “but we’re all coping. Thank you, sir, for your condolences.”
Dale nodded. “Oh, you remember Kayla and Alan, don’t you? My children.”
“Of course,” Max said, shaking hands with both of them. “Mostly I remember what I see in pictures, but . . . I’ve heard a lot about these two. Up-and-comers here in Phoenix, isn’t that right?”
Dale smiled proudly. “Most definitely.”
Liz held one hand to her stomach. This kind of conversation was absolutely disgusting. It practically made her feel sick. It was so superficial and meaningless. Although the Smithsons did seem a hell of a lot nicer than Phillip Evans.
“I don’t believe any of you have met my sister,” Max said, placing a hand on Liz’s back. “Isabel, this is Dale Smithson, Kayla, and Alan. Everyone, this is my twin sister.”
“Hi,” Liz said, waving nervously. “I’m Liz . . . abel. Isabel. Isabel Evans. That’s me.”
“Oh, of course. You wouldn’t remember me, but your father introduced you to me when you were two years old,” Dale Smithson said. “It’s wonderful to see you again, and all grown up now.”
“All grown up.” She pulled up on her dress self-consciously. Dale Smithson didn’t seem to have a wife hovering about, so hopefully he wasn’t getting any pervy ideas.
“Isabel runs Evans Hotels with me,” Max lied through his teeth.
“Really?” Dale sounded shocked. “Phillip decided to leave the company to both of you?”
“Actually, he only left it to me, but I brought Isabel on as an equal partner in management,” Max kept on. “She’s got a great mind for business, and she’s my sister. There’s no way I could do this without her.”
Liz forced herself to smile. If the real Isabel could hear this, she’d probably be so outraged that she’d go into labor.
“I have a lot of respect for that,” Dale Smithson told Max.
“Daddy always says loyal men are loyal to their family first and foremost,” Kayla piped up. God, Liz thought, she even has a beautiful voice. It was that mixture of high-pitched and low-pitched that amounted to perfect pitch. She noticed the way she was eyeing Max, and she tensed.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Max said.
“Well, I’m very happy to have you here,” Dale said, giving Max a pat on the shoulder. “Both of you. Enjoy the party. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you,” Liz practically whispered.
Kayla and Alan stuck around after their father left. Max wasted no time getting to work. “Oh, Kayla, you PR goddess,” he said, hooking his arm with hers. “You have to give me your secrets. I’m new at this, you know.”
Kayla smiled as he led her towards the bar. “Seems to me you’re doing just fine.”
Liz rolled her eyes, not even caring if Alan noticed.
“I’m so sorry,” Alan said, “but I didn’t quite catch your name. Isabel, was it?”
“Yes, it was. And still is,” she fibbed. “And you’re Alan. Max told me all about you. He said you’re an accountant.”
“Well, I’m not actually an accountant,” Alan admitted. “I’m the guy who bosses all the accountants around.”
“Well, that’s very important. I boss my accountants around all the time. Because I’m a business girl.” She was so not pulling this off.
“I’m sure you do a very good job,” Alan said, apparently not sensing anything was off. “By the way, that’s a lovely dress.”
Liz glanced down. It was slipping again. So he’s distracted by the sight-seeing, she thought. That’s fine. It would keep her from getting caught in the lie. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s a lovely . . . watch.”
“Rolex.”
“Of course.” She’d never even seen a real-life Rolex before. It didn’t look like anything special. “I’m sorry if I seem nervous,” she apologized. “It’s just, I haven’t been to many of these parties before, not even when Phillip . . . you know my dad, was running things.”
“It’s so unfortunate that he died so young,” Alan said sympathetically.
“Well, he was an ass.” Oh, crap. An alarmed look crashed across her face, and she tried to recover. “But I miss him. Lots.” Family values, family values . . .
“Family is family.”
“Got that right. He was, uh . . . determined.” That seemed to be the most complimentary word she could think of to describe Phillip Evans. “But he didn’t let me do the things my . . . brother got to do.” She couldn’t believe she had just referred to Max as her brother. So creepy. So wrong.
“Well, at least Max is turning things around,” Alan said, “making this a family affair.”
Her eyes bulged in panic. “There’s no affair!”
“Oh, I just mean . . . a family state of affairs. A family business,” Alan clarified.
“Oh. Right.” Had she just blown it? She pulled the sides of her dress down a little bit more, and Alan just smiled at her.
“Max seems like a good guy,” he said.
Liz looked over at the bar. Max and Kayla were toasting drinks. “Oh, yeah,” she said, “he’s a prince.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max drank only a little wine, pretending to drink a lot. He’d already tossed back quite a few in his office and on the plane. He couldn’t get tipsy and lose his focus. “So Kayla, how long has it been?” he asked.
“A long time,” she said. “Last time I saw you, I was wearing saddle shoes, and you were still in diapers.”
“Those were Pull-Ups,” he corrected.
“Whatever.”
He laughed a little. “Oh, that’s embarrassing.” The girl was hot as ever, though. He’d dig her even if she was still wearing the saddle shoes. Still, he’d done his fair share of blondes. He preferred brunettes.
“Look at us now,” she said.
“Look at us now,” he echoed. “You’re prettier than ever, and you’re your father’s right-hand man. Or woman, I should say.”
“Hmm, am I propelling the feminist movement forward?”
“I’d say so.” This girl was everything Isabel wanted to be: a guy-magnet, rich, and successful. Isabel would only ever be one of those things.
“Your sister seems nice,” Kayla remarked. “A little quiet.”
Max chuckled lightly. If only Kayla knew . . . Liz was a screamer. “Best sister ever,” he said. If Liz really had been born his sister, he’d be the chief proponent of incest advocacy.
“So how’s it feel to have a multi-million dollar completely under your control?” Kayla inquired, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Is it everything you thought it’d be and more?”
“It’s . . . challenging,” he admitted, “but hopefully rewarding. To be honest, I’m not quite satisfied with the direction my father was taking it when he died. I wanna do something different, make Evans hotels more accessible and family-oriented. I want to promote fun.” And that was partially true. He fully intended on putting in some very fun strip clubs with eager-to-please strippers in them. “Isabel and I have developed some expansion plans for Santa Fe. We might even have room for one of your family’s restaurants if you’re interested.”
Kayla shrugged. “Well, you never know. We’re definitely interested in outreach to New Mexico.”
I’ve got this in the bag, Max thought, casting a side glance at Liz. She and Alan were talking quite a lot for two people who had never met prior to this night.
“You know, I know some guys in Santa Fe I could refer you to,” Kayla said. “For PR concerns.”
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.” He felt like such a suck-up, saying ‘thank you’ all the time to these people. But he’d do whatever it took. He looked over at Liz again. What the hell? Now she and Alan were dancing together.
“Kayla,” he said, “I hope I’m not out of line by saying this, but you look absolutely ravaging tonight.”
She smiled confidently. “No, you’re not out of line. You’re just honest.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Max grinned, hoping Liz was watching. He really wanted to make her as jealous as she was making him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael brushed dark grey paint on his canvas clockwise to form a half circle. It wasn’t perfectly circular, of course, because it was supposed to be Isabel’s stomach. She was standing before him in his living room, wearing a thin, silver slip. (The skimpy wardrobe had been her idea.) Her right hand was resting atop her stomach, and her left hand was resting below. She was looking down at her belly adoringly, and her long hair was curtaining her face. She looked stunning, that much was true; but he was struggling with the painting.
He mixed in some white paint with the grey and worked on accenting her slip, trying to make it appear wrinkled and shiny like it was in reality. He was off his artistic game, though, and he knew it. He hurried through the painting because he didn’t want her to have to stand on her swollen ankles for too long. When he was done, he was . . . satisfied. Just satisfied. It definitely wasn’t the best thing he had ever painted. But at least it wasn’t the worst.
“You done?” Isabel asked.
He took a step back to survey his work some more. He didn’t want to mess with it anymore. “Yeah.”
“How’s it look?” She walked around the canvas to take a look at it. “Michael,” she gasped. “That’s so beautiful. Thank you.” She leaned in and gave him a quick, appreciate kiss on the cheek, then strode into the bedroom to change.
He folded his arms over his chest and furrowed his brow as he continued to stare at the painting. Pregnant women were beautiful subjects—almost every artist could agree on that. And the fact that he was painting his son more than he was painting Isabel was enough in itself to make the painting good, maybe the second best thing he had ever painted simply because it was his son. But that worried him. If he was painting a part of himself, shouldn’t it have been the very best thing he’d ever painted?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max and Liz sat together at the bar as the party at Smithson’s began to dwindle. Even though people were leaving, Max refused to walk out that door without some kind of reassurance that he had Dale Smithson’s money in his future.
“They’re talking. That’s a good sign,” he commented, keeping his eyes locked on Dale, Alan, and Kayla as Liz downed her third shot. “Wait for it.”
“I can’t believe you flew me here without telling me you wanted me to pretend to be Isabel,” she growled.
“If I’d told you, would you have done it?”
“No.”
“Exactly.” He intercepted her fourth shot glass when the bartender slid it towards her. “Stop,” he said.
“Are you cutting me off?”
“Yeah, a drunk sister would reflect badly on me.”
“I’m not drunk,” she said.
“I know. But keep going like this and you will be.” Truthfully, he was scared of what would happen if she got drunk. He didn’t want to hurt her.
“Fine. I’ll just sit here and be bored. What a party,” she grumbled sarcastically.
“I thought it was alright,” he said. It’d been a hell of a lot better than almost every other high society party he’d been to, mainly because Liz had been there. And also because Kayla was obviously into him. “You did good tonight,” he told his accomplice. “This Smithsons love you, or at least the pretend you. They think you’re sweet.” He laughed.
“They also think you’re nice,” she pointed out. “Stupid them.”
“Well, they may not be the brightest stars in the heavens, but they’re good people.”
“And what do you know about good people?” she asked, turning on her bar stool to face him directly.
“Absolutely nothing,” he admitted.
Liz looked over at the Smithson clan as they talked heavily together across the room and said, “I don’t get it. You told me once that you have to be shrewd to be successful. You said that’s what your dad told you. But I look at Dale Smithson and his kids, and they don’t seem shrewd at all. I actually like them.”
“I know,” Max said. He liked them, too. “That’s why it’s so easy to pull the wool over their eyes. Honestly, Evans Hotels, a family establishment?” He grunted. “Please. “My first order of business is to put a strip club in every building I own.”
“You’re such a guy.”
“You know it.” He fell silent as the Smithson’s approached them, and they both got down off their bar stools. Dale had a very optimistic look on his face.
“Max, Isabel, my children and I talked it over,” he said, “and we’re interested in your company. We like what you two stand for, and we foresee a mutually beneficial partnership in our future.”
Yahtzee, Max thought, smiling. “I think we foresee the exact same thing, don’t we, Isabel?”
“We sure do,” Liz agreed cheesily.
“We’ll be in touch,” Dale promised. “I’ll have my people call your people, see if we can work out an investment deal.”
“That sounds fantastic,” Max said. “Thank you, Mr. Smithson, for your consideration, and thank you for a lovely evening.”
“My pleasure. It was great to see you again; and Isabel, it was wonderful to meet you.”
“Thank you . . . sir,” Liz said.
Dale walked away to go bid farewell to the rest of his guests, and once again, Alan and Kayla stayed behind. Alan pulled a business card out of his pocket and approached Liz with it. “I know you’re from out of town,” he said, “but . . . here’s my number. Give me a call sometime.”
“Oh.” Liz took the card and glanced up at Max, then back at Alan. “Sure. Okay.”
“Great.” Alan bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Max bristled and didn’t relax until he had walked away.
“Good to see you again, Max,” Kayla said, giving him a hug as she whispered in his ear, “I’d give you my number if you weren’t so sweet on your sister.”
Max couldn’t hide the alarm that displayed itself across his face as Kayla eased back from the hug.
“Shh,” she said, grinning, implying that she’d keep his secret. Either she knew Liz wasn’t his sister or she thought he had a thing for ‘Isabel.’ Either way, it was screwed up, so he was thankful for her not saying anything.
“Bye, Kayla,” he said.
“Bye.” She waved goodbye to both him and Liz and trotted after her father and brother.
“What’d she say?” Liz asked.
“Nothing. We got ‘em,” he said. “Let’s go.” He placed one hand in the small of her back and led her towards the door. Their limo was outside waiting for them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Well, Max, thank you for a perfectly stuffy, small-talk-filled evening,” Liz said as she strode into the hotel room. It was one of his hotels, of course, one of the best rooms. They were staying there for the night and flying back in the morning, apparently. Whatever. She didn’t even care. She just wanted to go to sleep, because she and Max had spent the whole day together now, and that made her very nervous. “So what would you do if I gave Alan a call?” she asked, kicking off her shoes. High-heels were really a killer. “Would you be jealous?”
Max grunted and loosened his tie. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t do it. If you wanted a nice guy, you’d still be dating Kyle.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled her dress upward again, supposing that was true.
“Did you have fun tonight?” he asked, unhooking his watch and setting it down atop the fireplace. Yes, there was a fireplace in the room. It was a far cry from the Budget Inn.
“Not really,” she said. “You know I hate those so-called parties. Plus, it wasn’t even me who was there; it was a . . . persona.” The last person on earth she wanted to be was Isabel Evans. She was even darker and more alone than Liz was. Plus, the whole pregnancy thing really had to suck. “I’m not doing this again, by the way. And if the Smithsons ask about me, you can just tell them Isabel took an extended vacation to Bermuda, and she’s probably never coming back. Oh, and if they ever meet the real Isabel . . . have fun explaining the drastic change in hair color, eye color, height, breast size.”
“Implants, contacts, dye job, and uh . . . yeah, height could be a problem,” he admitted. “Oh, well. They won’t ever meet her. And you don’t ever have to pretend to be Isabel again. You did your job and you did it well. I could compensate you.”
“Compensate?” she echoed. “With what?’
He grinned. “Whatever you want.”
“Oh my god, Max.”
“I was talking about money, sweetheart. But if you had other ideas . . .” He trailed off suggestively.
“No, no other ideas.” She pulled her dress up again. Stupid thing. “Don’t you even feel the slightest bit bad about what you did tonight? Because I feel bad, and I was only an accessory to the crime.”
“What crime?” he asked. “It’s not like I’m stealing. I’m just gonna . . . use his investment for something that goes against his morals.” He shrugged.
“Strip clubs?”
“Yeah.”
She gave him a look. If he really wanted to change, he wouldn’t be so focused on strip clubs.
“Or mini-golf,” he added. “Whatever.”
“You’re such a dick, you know?” she told him. “Oh, by the way, don’t think I haven’t noticed the one and only bed in this room. Crafty. But you’re sleeping on the floor.”
“But it’s a king-size,” he protested. “Hmm, all the more room to--”
“Roll around and have sex?” she filled in, knowing that was what he was going to say. “Yeah, I—just stop. Okay?”
He took off his jacket and set it down on the side of the bed. “What’re you afraid of, Liz?” he asked.
“You. Me.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered towards her, looking almost . . . timid and innocent for a moment. “Can I tell you something?” he asked.
“Please don’t.”
“You weren’t the only person pretending tonight,” he said. “I pretended we were on a date.”
“Oh . . .” She made a face of disgust and backed away from him. “I told you, Max . . . I told you it can’t be that. Why do you have to go there?” She brushed past him and headed into the bathroom. She flipped on the overhead light and tried to shut the door, but he followed her into the bathroom and barged in.
“Why won’t you go there with me?” he demanded.
She braced herself against the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Oh. Really, Max. Do you even have to ask? I left town because of you. I dropped out of college because of you.”
“And you came back because of me.”
She whirled around, looking at him incredulously. “Could you contemplate getting over yourself for, like, a minute? You’re not God’s gift to women. His curse, maybe, but not his gift.”
“Liz--”
“I left town to put myself back together, because you broke me!” she shouted, feeling tears spring to her eyes as the recent memory of heartbreak overwhelmed her. “I came back to deal with my problems, and it just so happens that you’re one of them. You’re always one of them.”
“You’re your problem, Liz,” he told her. “How’s that going, the dealing?”
“It was going fine until today, until your warped perception of a date came into play.”
“You could’ve stayed home!”
She knew she should have stayed in Santa Fe. She wished she’d stayed in Santa Fe and let him take this little trip all by himself. “If I’d known we’d be having this conversation, trust me, I would’ve stayed home,” she told him. “You could’ve smoke-screened those people without me. I know you. You’d find a way to pull it off. You didn’t need me to come along. You lied to me, just like you always do.”
He shrugged. “You’re right. I didn’t need you at that party tonight; I wanted you there. As middle school as it may sound, I was hoping you’d get jealous when I was flirting with Kayla.”
She grunted. “I think that worked in reverse.” Max had definitely expressed a non-verbal hostility towards Alan. “God, Max. Sex and money and jealousy and power . . . it’s all the same damn thing to you. You can’t distinguish one from the other. You clearly have no feelings . . .”
“That’s not true.”
“. . . which kind of makes you a sociopath.”
“Oh, give me a break!” he roared suddenly. “I’m not a monster. Not anymore. I’m a human being, too, you know.”
“But who you were is part of who you are, Max,” she explained, “and after this little display I saw tonight, I’m not so sure you’ve changed a bit.”
“I have,” he insisted.
“Or maybe that’s just what you want people to believe, so they give you a chance. Like I did.” She raked one hand through her hair, furious with herself. “God, like I stupidly did.” She shook her head, remembering the first night she had seen him, at a party of course, much different from the one they had attended tonight. “Look, Max, you took advantage of Maria physically—we all know this—but you took advantage of me in every other way. And I know I let it happen; I know I brought it on myself. But I sure as hell wasn’t asking for it, and . . . you know what? It doesn’t matter. I gave you a chance, because you made me believe you could change; and then you didn’t.”
He looked floored but managed to rebut. “First off, I didn’t make you believe anything. You did that all on your own. And for the record, I’m never gonna change into Alan Smithson or Kyle Valenti or Michael Guerin. You know that, so don’t even pretend it’s some big shock to hear it.”
“But you chose your job over me, Max!” she wailed. “And it’s not even a job you like.”
He fell silent for a minute, contemplatively. “I chose my whole lifestyle over you,” he informed her. “Was it selfish? Hell, yeah, it was selfish. But I’m selfish. For once in my life, I didn’t do the wrong thing. I may not have done the right thing, but you can’t stand here and argue that it was wrong. If I hadn’t dumped you, you would’ve stayed in town, and we would have self-destructed. Inevitably. But we’re different now. We can handle it.”
“When you were here before
Couldn’t look you in the eye
You’re just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry.”
“Speak for yourself.” She turned back around to face the mirror. She looked down at the sink and mumbled, “I don’t have any more chances to give you. It might kill me.”
“But don’t you get it?” he kept on. “You’re the only one who makes me less of a monster. Without you, I’ll end up just like me dad. And believe it or not, I don’t want that.”
“You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
So fuckin’ special.”
She lifted her head again to talk to his reflection. “But it’s so not fair of you to put all this pressure on me,” she said. “And I don’t even know if I can believe anything you’re saying.”
“You make me feel things, Liz!” he roared suddenly. “Things I-I can’t even put into words, and it pisses me off. It’s so much easier to just use people and not care. I’ve done that for years. But I look at you now, and I wonder what you’re thinking, and I listen to what you’re saying and . . . God help me, I miss you when you’re gone.”
“But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.”
She missed him, too, and she wished she didn’t.
He threw his hands up in the air angrily. “I could apologize for the rest of my life for what I’ve done to you and everyone else, and it’s never gonna be enough, so I’m not even gonna bother. But know that I can actually feel my heart beating right now, and that’s saying something, because before you, I didn’t even know I had one.”
“I don’t care if it hurts
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul.”
She tensed briefly before turning around to look him in the eye again. She knew Max had a heart. She’d always known, even when he’d dumped her. She felt it beating when he was close to her. “But this isn’t fair,” she whispered, thinking of lucky girls like Tess and Maria who had great guys who loved them, great guys who would be with them again someday, probably for all time. “I’ll never get to be happy with you.”
“Maybe not,” Max acknowledged, “but with anyone else, you won’t even be content.”
“I want you to notice
When I’m not around
You’re so fuckin’ special
I wish I was special.”
She felt all the hairs on her body start to stand on end in anticipation. It was true. She didn’t want a fairy tale. She wanted . . . this. Whatever this was.
“You love me.”
She swallowed hard. “I love you,” she admitted shakily. “I don’t trust you.”
He stared right at her, looked her right in the eye and made her feel like she was going to melt away. “I don’t trust me, either.”
She felt her own heart jolt in her chest. Her skin buzzed as she gazed at him, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She threw herself against him, her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
“But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here
Oh, oh!”
Their mouths mated savagely, ferociously. He pulled her in so close to him that she could barely breathe, and her dress finally fell down as her body slid against his. He tangled one hand in her hair and dragged it through the strands, all the way down her side, his fingertips pressing insistently against her. When he reached behind her to yank the zipper of the dress down, she gasped and tossed her head back. He tugged downward on the dress, and she slithered out of it. Speed of light. She pressed her forehead against his and looked down at his white undershirt. Buttons. Buttons, too many buttons. She tore them off and slid the shirt from his shoulders, grinning as it fell to the floor.
“She’s running out
Again . . .”
He pulled her into the shower with him before she even knew what was happening and turned on the water. It was cold; his skin was hot. He backed her up against the shower and pressed his hands against the shower wall, one on either side of her, trapping her there. She pushed her thong aside, locking her eyes with him as she did so, and he growled and hoisted her up in his arms in one swift, easy maneuver.
“She’s running out . . .”
She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, watching in interest as he undid his pants and released his straining cock. He slid the tip of it up and down her slick folds and kissed her deeply. The water cascaded down on top of them, and just when she thought she couldn’t get any more breathless . . .
“She run . . . run . . . run
RUN!”
She literally screamed as he plunged inside her. Tearing her lips away from his, she craned her neck to the right as the feeling of being filled washed over her. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t need to be. He buried his face in the side of her neck and literally bit down on her skin as he pushed deep inside her. Where he ended and she began was a mystery.
“RUN!”
She lurched forward, clinging tightly to his shoulders, but her hands slipped out of place because of the water. He kept his arms locked around her midsection and pressed her hard against the wall of the shower. She felt him urging her legs so far apart that she thought they might rip off. It was all she could do to keep from dying.
“Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You’re so fuckin’ special
I wish I was special.”
He slowed his movements suddenly, brought both their bodies to a screeching halt. He leaned back and gazed at her. She felt her entire body heat up even more as his eyes roamed it. She knew he could see the lust in her eyes, hear the ragged pants of breath heaving her chest, and she felt herself grow red with embarrassment.
He lifted one of her hands off his shoulder and pressed it back against the slippery shower wall. He intertwined her fingers with his own, smiled at her, and then waited until she smiled back at him. He captured her lips between his and kissed her, plunging his tongue into his mouth as he pressed his hips forward again.
“But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doin’ here?
I don’t belong here.”
The water was still cold, but she needed it to be colder. She reached out and touched the shower knob with trembling fingers. She turned it as far to the left as she could and gasped at the water rained down icy cold. She felt shivers run up and down her spine, but the heat flowing from Max’s body into hers warmed her to the core. He spent himself inside her only after she came, and he slumped against her in a wordless heap. All she wanted to do was stay in that frigid shower forever.
“I don’t belong here.”
TBC . . .
-April
I'll admit, I think he can be funny sometimes, just because he'll say things that no other guy in this story will say.
) and I've posted at lost-forum a few times, but I don't think I've ever posted at Fishbiscuitland, so you're probably thinking of a different April.
Shame on me.
