Well, for the first time in a long time, I'm actually getting a lot of writing done. It's kind of nice. I've almost reached page 1,000 now! This is going to be a really long fic. I've still got a lot left to go.
Ellie:
I could hook up some portable speakers if I wanted to. I don't know, I'm getting used to the new speakers, and I think they sound good enough. The volume level is fine; it's just that the volume is sort of . . . contained within the computer. But I think I can deal.So glad that your computer issues worked out to your benefit. Can you hook up portable speakers to the new computer? Or do you have to live with what you've got?
Overall, I'm really liking my new computer. It's much faster!Don't worry, neither will I. And I don't think it'll ever happen. He could never trust her enough to be friends with her.Under no circumstances will I EVER be on board with Michael and Isabel being friends ... of any kind! Yuck!
I'm in complete agreement with you there.Vanilla sex is good, but a good thumping is always the best!
BB:
Sexiest things ever!I always love the scenes with Michael and the girls. He is just adorable. And adorable dads are so sexy.
Yeah, she's never going to get the kind of help from Michael that she wants, and if he's the only person she's willing to let help her . . . well, she may never get the help she needs.I'm really starting to feel sorry for Isabel. She's batshit insane but now we know why. Everything she does is caused by what happened to her when she was three years old. She needs help but the only thing she thinks she needs is Michael and that's never going to go well.
Rodney:
Isabel definitely has legitimate reasons for blaming her father for so many of the problems in her life, but you're right. What she considers to be her biggest problem, not being with Michael, is all her own doing. She has no one to blame for that but herself.You know I might have felt sorry for Isabel with the whole being child raped by her father and Michael the only good guy she's ever known and trusted but doesen't have him.....if it wasn't only for ONE little old fact.
She was the one who cheated on him,broke up with him and left him for Alex! Nope she wasn't heart broke she was the one who dumped Michael.So I do not feel sorry for her in anyway in not having him.Yes I feel sorry for what child Isabel went thru but not what adult Isabel is doing now.
Thanks for the feedback.
Part 51
That’s the most adorable onesie I’ve ever seen in my life, Tess thought as she looked at baby clothes on Amazon.com. It was bright blue and had Superman’s giant S symbol on the chest. Her baby would most certainly be super.
A knock on the door jerked her out of her thoughts. She looked up from the computer and saw Max sidling into the studio.
“Oh, it’s just you,” she said disappointedly. “I thought you were a customer.”
“Maybe I am,” he said. “Depends what you’re selling, your designs or yourself.”
She scrunched up her face in confusion, and he motioned to her outfit. She was wearing a short, tight white skirt and a very low cut v-neck sweater. “I can dress like a hooker if I want to,” she said in defense of herself.
“Hey, I’m not complaining.”
She rolled her eyes and added the Superman onesie to her online shopping cart. “What do you want Max? You’re bothering me.”
“Yeah, it looks like you’re getting a lot of work done,” he remarked sarcastically.
“Well, there’s no work to do.”
“That’s what I hear. That’s why I’m here, actually. Liz is really worried she’s gonna lose her job.”
“She might,” Tess admitted. “I might, too.”
“But it’s okay if you do. You’re not the breadwinner. As much as I hate to admit it, that’s what Liz is right now.”
She shrugged, not all that sympathetic towards his plight. “That’s what you get for taking a volunteer job.” She took a few steps away from him, carrying her laptop with her. He sort of . . . smelled bad. Like trailer park.
“It’ll amount to something, you’ll see,” he promised.
“Look, Max, I’m trying my best around here.”
“Are you?” he countered. “Is shopping for baby clothes really trying your best?”
“You and Liz would be doing the same thing if you . . .” She trailed off before she said something potentially insulting. “Never mind.” Max didn’t know that she knew about his fertility problem.
“What?” he pressed.
“Nothing.”
“Finish what you were saying.”
“I don’t even know what I was saying,” she lied. “Just forget it. God, you’re such an ass.” How had she ever dated this guy? He was impossible to tolerate.
He stared at her for a moment, his jaw tightening in anger. “She told you, didn’t she?”
Time to play dumb. “Told me what?”
“That I can’t have kids.” He grunted. “Unbelievable.”
Now she felt bad. Liz was going to catch heck over this. “Max . . . she didn’t mean to,” she assured him. “It just slipped out.”
“I told her not to say anything,” he growled.
“Don’t be mad at her, okay? She’s put up with a lot of your crap over the years.” Liz had agreed to marry a man whom she’d known was a rapist. That had to be some sick and twisted kind of true love. “Relax, okay? I haven’t told anyone.”
“Except Kyle and Maria and Michael, I’m sure.”
“No, I haven’t said one word to them, and I’m not going to,” she vowed. “Because honestly, they don’t care about your problems.” The only reason she cared was that Liz was a sort of friend, and Max’s problems were her problems, too. “God, grow up, Max. You’re not the center of the universe.”
“I used to be.” He shook his head angrily and stormed out of the studio. He was nothing like the guy he once had been. What he was failing to see was that that was a good thing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Liz got out of class and went home that day, she found her husband waiting for her. He was sitting on the couch, doing his best impression of Alex by downing a beer. He didn’t even look at her.
“I’m afraid to ask,” she said, heading into the kitchen.
“You told her.”
She set her purse down on the counter, pretending not to know what he was talking about. “What?”
“Tess. You told her about . . . me.” He glared at her accusingly.
She wanted to deny it, but there was no use. Max seemed pretty certain. “I didn’t mean to,” she confessed. “I’m so sorry. I told her not to say anything.”
“She didn’t. Not on purpose.”
“It just slipped out.”
He rose to his feet and bellowed, “How does something like that just slip out, Liz?”
“I don’t know; it just did. I was literally in the middle of a breakdown, and it just . . . it just came out. I swear, I never would’ve told anyone on purpose.”
“Well, now she knows, so it’s only a matter of time until everyone else does.”
“No, that’s not gonna happen, Max,” she assured him, nearing him cautiously. He looked like a volcano about to erupt. She placed her hands on his sides, hoping to calm him down. “But even if it did . . . who cares? It’s not like this is something you can control.”
“Which makes it all the more humiliating!” He jerked away from her. “This is humiliating, Liz. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Max, it’s not the end of the world,” she kept trying to reach him. “It’s not the end of the world that you can’t have kids.”
“Don’t say that!” He threw the beer bottle against the wall, and it smashed into pieces.
“Why not? It’s true.” He still seemed so unwilling to accept it. “You can’t have kids. And yeah, that’s disappointing. But I still love you.” That had to count for something.
“You shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t take it back now.
“You should be,” he grumbled. “You know, I think you’re letting this head of household thing go to your head. From now on, do what a good woman does and keep your damn mouth shut, unless I wanna shove my cock in it.”
She backed away, thoroughly stunned by those words. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol making him say that or if he was saying it all on his own. Max had never been a great guy, but he hadn’t spoken to her like that in years. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t realize I was talking to Phillip Evans.”
He flinched, and she knew she’d struck a nerve. But in that moment, she didn’t care. Sure, he was angry at her, but she had more than enough reason to be furious with him. He couldn’t give her a house, a decent wedding, any financial support, or kids; and she still didn’t yell at him.
Liz scurried into their bedroom and shut the door. She didn’t want him to hear her crying, but then again, maybe that would knock some sense into him. She wasn’t a bad wife. In fact, sometimes she felt like she was a better one than he deserved.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Most of Isabel’s job interviews ended up being a bust. She was off her game and she knew it, had been ever since that debacle with Arthur. She could tell that none of the advertising firms were going to hire her, so she switched tactics and ended up at a bar called The Neon Tiger. It also served as a strip joint—there were poles that came out of the bar counter itself and went all the way up to the ceiling—but the owner, Lee, said he was hiring bartenders. That had to be one of the easiest and most eventful jobs known to mankind. Plus, the pay he was offering was . . . not bad. The Neon Tiger was no hole in the wall. It was a flourishing establishment on the nicer side of town.
“I don’t know, Isabel,” he said as he carried a crate of glasses out from the back. “You ever tended bar before?”
“No,” she admitted, “but my husband’s an alcoholic, so I have plenty of experience.”
He grinned and set the crate down on the counter. “You’ve definitely got the look for it.”
“That’s right. Because I’m a girl. Gotta look hot no matter where I work, otherwise what could I possibly have to offer?”
“Exactly.”
She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “So what do you say? Do I have the job?”
Lee turned to stare at her for a moment, then smiled. “You know what? I like you. I’m gonna give you a chance.”
“Really?” Thank God. She had bills to pay. “That’s great. When do I start?”
“Tonight. Come by around 9:00. And make sure you look as good as you do right now.”
“I will.” She didn’t even look her best, but at least this proved she was smoking hot without even trying. “Thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.”
“You’d better not.”
“See you tonight.” She practically skipped out of the bar, feeling good about this new job. Sitting behind a desk typing up memos and sorting files had never been good enough for her. She was a lively, exciting person, and this job was going to be much more fitting.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria was washing dishes and Michael was drying after dinner when the doorbell rang. When he answered it and saw Isabel standing on the other side, a sinking feeling hit him right in the gut. “What do you want?” he asked flat-out. This usually didn’t end well.
“To tell you I love you again.”
He started to shut the door.
“Kidding,” she added, holding out a hand to stop him. “Sort of.”
Maria came to stand beside him, arms crossed over her chest. “Isabel.”
“Maria. You look tired.”
“Tired of seeing your face,” Maria snapped.
Isabel smiled and said to Michael, “She’s so witty.”
“You got five seconds to explain why you’re here,” he warned.
“Well, as you can see, my beautiful son is in the car,” Isabel said, stepping aside so they could see Garret in the backseat, his face pressed against the window. “I was hoping to drop him off here. I have to work tonight.”
“On which street corner?” Maria asked.
“Very amusing. I just got a new job at a bar.”
“How classy.”
“Let’s not talk class, Maria, because the first time I ever met you, you were dancing topless on some frat guy’s kitchen table,” Isabel revealed. “Now the situation is, Alex has some kind of study thing tonight, so there’s no one to watch Garret.”
“Max and Liz,” Maria suggested quickly.
“Ew, they live in a trailer. He could catch Hep C over there. Besides, I was thinking this would be a great chance to try out Miley and Garret’s friendship arrangement. Your house, your supervision. See? I can follow the rules.”
“I wrote them down, just in case.” Maria took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Isabel.
Isabel unfolded it, looked it over, and huffed. “No telling Michael I love him? That’s crap.”
Maria shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”
She refolded the paper and gave in. “Fine. It’s okay. He already knows.” She grinned at him, and he just rolled his eyes and stood there. These conversations between the three of them were absolutely exhausting him mentally.
“So is this a workable thing,” Isabel asked, “Garret hanging out over here for awhile tonight?”
“No,” Maria shot down the idea immediately.
“Yeah, actually, we had other plans,” Michael informed her.
“Like what?”
“Just, you know . . .”
“Sex,” Maria blurted.
“Sex,” he echoed. “We planned sex.” All of a sudden, he felt Miley barreling through his legs, exclaiming, “Garret!” as she ran out to the car. Garret pushed the door open and climbed out, and the two immediately started laughing and talking.
Isabel smirked as she watched them. “Looks like Miley has other plans.”
“Miley, come here,” Maria called.
She ran back to the house, dragging her friend along with her. “Can Garret play?” she asked excitedly.
Michael glanced down at his watch. It was already almost 7:00. They’d eaten dinner, and they usually tried to get Miley into bed by 9:00.
“Please,” Miley begged, pouting as though she sensed their reluctance.
Michael looked to Maria, willing to let her have the say on this one.
“I suppose,” she grumbled.
“Cool! Come on, Garret.” She pulled him past all the adults into the house.
“I’ll pick him up later,” Isabel said, turning to leave.
“How much later?” Maria asked. “It’s already late.”
“Later,” Isabel repeated. “It’s a bar, Maria.”
“Then tell Alex to swing by and pick him up when he’s done studying,” Michael suggested. They really had planned sex for this evening, and he didn’t intend to let those plans fall through.
“I will,” Isabel said, “unless he’s too drunk to drive.” She shrugged. “Think of it this way: Even though they’re interrupting sex, abstinence is the best kind of birth control.” She patted Maria on the shoulder, then spun around and headed off.
Maria slammed the door and growled, “I hate her.”
“Shh,” Michael hissed. Her kid was standing right there, staring up at them with round, puppy dog eyes.
“Hi, Garret,” Maria said, smiling tightly. “I’m Maria. This is Michael. Mr. Guerin.”
He nodded. That sounded very authoritarian.
“I’m Mrs. . .” she trailed off. “Well, we’re Miley’s parents. It’s nice to meet you.”
He just kept staring at them. He almost looked afraid of them. Why? Michael wondered. Were they intimidating? He didn’t want to scare the poor kid. He was probably just nervous because this was his first time playing over at a friend’s house.
“This is Frank,” Miley said when the dog sauntered up to sniff them.
“You can pet him,” Michael told him. “He’s a nice dog.”
Garret reached down and scratched Frank behind the ears, and the dog craned his head back to lick his wrist.
“That’s Macy,” Miley said, pointing to her sister rolling around in the playpen. “Frank’s better.”
Garret smiled and kept petting the pug.
Maria cleared her throat, clasping her hands together nervously. “So, Garret, can I get you something to drink?”
“Not beer,” he mumbled.
She stopped on her way to the kitchen and gave Michael a horrified look. Michael didn’t know what to say, either. How was it possible that a three year-old kid could know what beer was? Worse than that, how was it possible that he knew it wasn’t a good idea to drink it? He knew Alex had a problem, but still . . . at some point the guy had to step up and take care of his kid.
“I was thinking more like juice,” Maria said slowly, pulling open the refrigerator. “So Garret, what do you want to do tonight?” she asked as she poured him a glass. “We’ve got books, games, TV.”
“Toys,” Michael added.
“Frank!” Miley exclaimed.
“I like Frank,” Garret said. “I wish I had a dog.”
Michael didn’t say anything, although he suspected Garret wished he had a lot of things that Miley had. Loving parents were probably at the top of a very long list. Poor kid.
“Daddy, can he paint with us?” Miley asked eagerly.
“Uh . . . I don’t know.” Painting was a messy activity even without toddlers involved.
“Please?” She pouted again.
“Not tonight. Maybe some other time.”
Maria came back into the living room with a small glass of juice for their guest. “Here you go,” she said. “You like grape juice?”
He nodded and tried to take the glass from her, but it slipped out of his hands and fell on the floor. It didn’t break, but the juice spilled all over their beige carpet.
“Oh . . .” Maria tensed and tried not to show it. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up.” She gave Michael an exasperated look and went back into the kitchen, this time to grab paper towels.
“Wanna play Hannah Montana?” Miley asked, sidestepping the juice.
“How do you play it?” Garret asked.
“I sing and you watch me.”
Garret nodded as the doorbell rang again. Michael went to answer it, hoping beyond hope that Isabel hadn’t come back. Luckily for him, it was just Kyle this time. “Howdy ho, neighbors,” he said, sliding past Michael. When he saw Garret in the living room, he froze, a confused look sweeping over his face. “Whoa. When did you guys have another kid?”
Michael shut the door and leaned back against it, groaning.
Realization hit Kyle like a bullet. “Oh, shit, is that . . .”
Michael nodded.
“It’s a play-date,” Maria explained, bending to soak up the grape juice mess with the paper towels.
“No, not a date.” Michael didn’t like that word in connection with his daughter.
“Right. A session,” Maria corrected. “A play . . . session.” She cringed. Yeah, that sounded weird.
“Hmm.” Kyle smiled at the kids and commented sarcastically, “Looks fun.”
Michael had a feeling it would be fun for them once they got the awkwardness out of the way. But for right now, having Isabel’s son in their house with their daughter . . . it was strange, and nerve-wracking. But they had to give it a shot.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Neon Tiger was crowded when Isabel got there that night. She could barely squeeze through the throng of people to get to the bar. “Lee!” she hollered, trying to get his attention. “Lee! Hey.”
He smiled at her as he poured drinks expertly with both hands. “Isabel. You’re early.”
“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind.” She was over an hour early. A little overtime never hurt anyone. She’d been hoping to get into the swing of bartending before many people showed up, but by the looks of things, this bar was crowded all night long.
“Toss your stuff in the back and get on out here,” Lee instructed.
“Okay.” She headed into the backroom and set her purse in a busted up locker. She covered it with her coat and was about to head back out when she heard whimpering in the corner. She turned on the overhead light and saw a girl wearing a black leather mini-skirt and red corset top sitting in the fetal position, crying. The girl looked at her and managed through tears, “You’re new.”
“Yeah.” Isabel figured she must have been one of the strippers.
“Good luck,” the girl said.
“Thanks.” She must not have known Isabel had been hired for a bartending job. Isabel turned off the light again and went back out to the bar. There were dozens of men crowding the counter, holding up empty beer glasses, shouting, and pointing at her. She walked up to one of them and asked, “What can I get you?”
“Uh, gin and tonic,” he replied, his eyes roaming all over her body. She’d worn jeans and a tight black t-shirt, figuring the attire for this job could be casual.
“Coming right up.” She spun around to prepare the drink for him and bumped into Lee. “Sorry,” she apologized.
“What’re you doin’?” he demanded.
“My job.” She reached for an empty glass, but he grabbed her wrist and stopped her.
“That’s my job.”
She frowned. “Then why did you hire me?”
“I haven’t hired you yet,” he informed her. “This is your audition.”
“For what?”
He glanced across the counter at all the loud, rowdy guys, and she understood what he was saying without even hearing him say it.
“Shake that tail, pussycat!” a middle-aged man with a mustache shouted at her.
“Dance for me, sweetcheeks!” another chimed in.
She felt the familiar feeling of disgust boiling in the pit of her stomach, and she hated herself for being so stupid. Of course he would hire her to be a stripper, even though she’d filled out an application to be a bartender. Men looked at her, and all they saw was her body. No wonder that girl in the back had wished her good luck.
“Dammit,” she swore, climbing up on the counter.
“Yeah!” all the guys shouted, whooping and hollering and chugging their drinks.
Isabel leaned back against one of the poles, looking down at a sea of desperate faces and eager hands. She didn’t want to do this, but in a way, she was surprised that she hadn’t done it before. She remembered her father telling her once that the only job out there for her was pole-dancing.
She lifted her left hand and gripped the cold metal pole, trying not to see three dozen Phillip Evanses in the crowd below her. She didn’t want a repeat freak out of what had happened with Arthur. She needed a job; she needed money. And this was the only way she could get it. For now at least.
She concentrated on making everyone watching her look like Michael. Even if the man was bald, old, and fat, she manipulated his image in her mind to resemble Michael. And once she was no longer looking down at Phillip Evanses and was only looking at Michael Guerins, she felt better. She began to sway her hips to the seductive music booming over the sound system, and then she yanked her shirt over her head.
“Yeah!” the guys roared again as she dropped her shirt behind the bar. She tried to act all into it, and she knew she looked good. But the truth was, she was glad Michael couldn’t see her up there. He wouldn’t have even known her.
TBC . . .
-April
Great.
