Eats, Shoots & Leaves (ML/Adult) AN 13Dec (WIP)

[LairaBehr4]

Hello, everyone.

Well, I’m still alive, at least! I was beginning to think that my “chapterette” stunt would put me in the same type of danger I was in when I wrote Chapter 5b (the one where Liz goes into the store and gets knocked unconscious) and you were all threatening to hire a hit-man. Thank you all for taking it so well – with everything that’s been going on here in RL lately, it’s been tough to find time to write. You guys don’t know what I went through to write that ‘Tabasco’ update last week. ‘Butterfly’ is pretty much falling through the cracks (which I imagine Dreamerfrvrp3 will never forgive me for), ‘Beautiful’ is marginally progressing, through absolutely NO effort of my own, and there was another story that I was writing that I think I’ve even forgotten the name of (don’t tell Poison Ivy, though). As for ‘I Meant To Do That’, … yeah, I’ve pretty much forgotten that the rough draft even exists at all. I’ll get around to it after I buy the second season on DVD.

To answer any lingering questions, the quote “I’ve got the most scathingly brilliant idea” comes from a movie called “The Trouble With Angels” starring Rosalind Russell and Hayley Mills. I highly recommend it, especially for anyone who ever went to Catholic school. I first saw it when the Reverend Mother of the local convent, who was the principal of my Catholic school, lent it to my parents when I was about 12. LOVE that movie!

The actual chapter is a reference to the book ‘The Princess Bride’.

Now, on to your feedback – Who’d have thought nine words would generate so much discussion? I mean, besides Clinton’s infamous “I did not have sexual relations with that woman,” which, let’s face it, my little chapterette just doesn’t begin to compare to.


Sprayadhesive (x4) – I love you too! Hope the hate mail’s been kept to a minimum. Although, Ashley’s a little scary … less so now that she’s never online, but you know what I mean.

Candycane14 – thank you for your sympathy.

Lorastar (x6) –

you have got to be kidding.

Nope.

Yeah, how did you miss that ‘Princess Bride’ thing?

Anonymousarfan – cheating is bad! But I’m glad I made you laugh.

Behrsgirl1230 – Thanks, hon!! You’re the best! And I guess D.W. managed to scare away all the ill-wishers.

Morning Dreamgirl (x3) – I’m glad you thought it was funny, because seriously, I was terrified of what the fallout might be from you. You, DMB, MiY and Lora were the four I was most worried about. Seven thirty? They have one of those in the mornings, too?

Alien614 –

That was just evil

Oh, now that’s just a bit harsh, don’t you think?

Roswell3035 – thank you very much, and grrr where’s my update for ‘Unforgettable Nights’?

Reamhar – faced with the choice of having you laugh or give me a time out, I’m glad you laughed. A “proper” update? Hey, there was a title, a certain time period that passed, and a very good point and purpose for that chapter! That sounds pretty darn “proper” to me!

Tequathisy – Thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Not all your colleagues can say the same.

Heavenli24 – thanks for all your support! I’m glad you’re laughing, too. Honestly, I was scared there for a while. Here’s a “proper” (there’s that word again) update for you.

Queen Fee –

That chapter was amazing so in depth and fulfilling, hmm sarcastic? Whatever do you mean.... I'm speechless Laira (except for the above) but thats ok i'll forgive you this time a chapter would make up for it but with a little more words this time missy *waves finger in the air, like i just don't care* please please please please come back. Please?

LOL this had me laughing hysterically!

Dreamsatnight (x2) – Yeah, it was kinda funny, wasn’t it?

Martine (x4) –

that's the greatest chapter...ette you ever wrote, congratulations!!!! you know what? that's the first time I see that on that board (if I'm not wrong) I'm sure that you'll give some (bad) ideas to the others!!

Thank you!! That’s very sweet of you! I can’t take all the credit (erm, I’m sorry, everyone – blame) myself – I wrote it as a joke, Spray’s the one who told me to post it.

PS my birthday’s this week, forget that nonsense about November.

Erina – thanks!

Come back. With chapter. And it would be great if the chapter has many, many words as well.

Yes, ma’am.

Dragon7 – yes, it does qualify as a chapterette – I’m the author, and I say so!

Gigo – yay! I love lurkers! You guys are great. Thanks for leaving fb! And congratulations on getting the “Princess Bride” reference – when I sent the chapter to Spray, I totally gave her the whole story behind it and that one big insaaaaaaanely long chapter where nothing at all happens for four whole years. I think the back story is pretty much what makes it so funny, kinda like those “I Am Canadian” commercials. When you just listen to them or watch them, they’re not so clever, but when you start to understand the whole sentiment behind them (trying to establish a national Canadian identity that people can relate to) they become a LOT funnier (because all that they talk about is why they’re not Americans – they never actually say what makes them distinctly Canadian! Hell, William Shatner’s little blimp is pretty much nothing but Star Trek jokes). Yeah, I have Joe Canada and Shatner’s sound bytes on my computer. I think it’s funny.

Wow, that was really long. I never talk this much.

That’s a lie, actually.

Anyway, thanks for stopping by and come back again soon!!

MiY (x4) – I figured out what I was referring to in my response to your feedback last chapter!

Stinkpot said: :p

MiY – Gotcha!

You BEE-atch! I can't believe you did that.

To which I say -

MiY – Yeah, I laughed at that one. In my defense, though, my beta, who really should restrain me from these things, signed off on that whooooole thing.

Yeah. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Hey! After that stunt, you can't point an ethical finger at anyone!

Thirteen years of Catholic school, plus the added benefit of being born on All Saint’s Day (which my grandmother says means I’m clearly predestined for Sainthood) says I can!

BehrObsession – Yes! You got it! ‘Trouble With Angels’! Thank God someone knew that one …

Alien_Friend – Thanks! And welcome!!

Jamy21 –

Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

Thanks!

DMB (x6) – Make time for this one, it’s quite long.

RosyLady -

i love you! really.

Aww, I love you too! See, guys, THAT is the way to get chapters posted!

At least it was a funny sentence …

Tinkerbell_Luvs_Roswell (x2) – Hey! Here’s an update – now, no more excuses for you!

Clueless -

I don’t think that anyone has ever written such a chapter. In my opinion, you should get an award for the most creative part.

Thank you!!

Maya –

I was so looking forward to reading your chapterette and well....where is the rest of it?????

Complain, complain, complain … after I helped you out with all your technical questions for “Behind Bars” and everything …

On a completely unrelated note, I found a pattern! And material! It’s a wrap-around dress with three-quarter length sleeves and the pattern is sized exclusively for knit fabrics, and we found this BEAUTIFUL turquoise-colored jersey knit material that matches my eyes. My mom’s gonna pin it up tonight and sew it when she gets home. You’re so brilliant!

Dreamerfrvrp3 – hey, I beta that story! I’ve already read all your parts! But you’re right, I should leave something … Will remedy the situation right away. As soon as I get back from this one last family dinner …

Lurkers - thank you.



For the record, words in BOLD are spoken over the phone, words in ITALICS are people's thoughts.


My beta is wonderful! Sorry I made you work a little harder on this one.





Eats, Shoots and Leaves:

Or,

Looking for a Prince in a World Full of Frogs

Chapter 11 – Porn, Prose and Poppies


Liz was having one of those days where it took every ounce of self-control not to fling yourself out a window. Or quit your job. At the moment, she wasn’t really sure which option would be more appealing.

Liz knew she was a talented writer, but her job was basically as a glorified fact-checker and spell-checker. When she took the initiative to suggest that certain passages or pieces be reconstructed, or even had the gall to do it herself and turn both the original copy and her revisions in to her boss, she was essentially slapped on the wrists and told not to do it again. As a result, there was almost no writing involved, and the only day she could remember having enjoyed herself at work was the day the book about the porn industry came across her desk, and she’d received special permission to have the internet restrictions lifted. All for the sake of “research”, of course.

So after work on a Thursday in the last week of September, Liz left her office and walked ten blocks to the Olde Maide, a bar located down the street from the Walnut Street Theater. She hoisted herself up onto one of the ridiculously tall barstools (at least, they were in her mind), crossed her arm on the bar and laid her head upon it.

“This area’s for paying customers only,” a voice called out from the other end of the bar. Liz looked up to see a familiar face peering out from behind a copy of “Ulysses”.

“It’s okay, I know the staff,” Liz smiled back wearily.

Michael put down his book and walked over to where Liz sat. “Tough day?”

“Killer,” she answered, slouching down on the bar again.

“What can I get ya?”

“Vodka tonic, on the rocks with a twist.”

Michael grimaced. “That bad, huh?” he inquired as he pulled a glass out from some hidden compartment at the bar. Liz proceeded to vent as Michael poured and served her drink. He even remembered to substitute a lime for the usual lemon wedge, knowing Liz preferred it.

“You should just quit already, Liz.” Liz looked up at him disbelievingly. “It’s not like you don’t have a back-up,” he reminded her, referring to her freelance work.

“Michael, the freelance writing only brings in a few hundred dollars a month. It’s not even enough to cover my rent. Some months, it’s not even enough to cover my student loans!”

“Okay … what about finding a new job?”

“I’ve tried … I’ve found places that’d be willing to take me on either part-time or for less than I make now, and that just isn’t enough, you know? I mean, I wanted to try to go to grad school at some point, and I’ve got some money saved for it, but not enough to quit my job or take a cut in salary.” She downed the last of her drink and motioned to Michael for another round. “I mean, I realize that I’m lucky to be employed and that it could be a lot worse and all, but I’m just … I’m having a hard time resigning myself to the fact that this is what my twenties are like, you know?”

Michael handed her her second drink. “I know, cuz,” he sympathized. The two of them continued in silence, Liz taking sips of her drink and Michael occasionally going to serve one of the other customers, but always coming back to Liz and silently letting her know that she had his support.

After Liz finished her second VT, she figured she’d had enough for one night. Looking up at Michael, she asked, “How much do I owe you?”

Michael waved his hand, “It’s on the house tonight.” Liz thanked him and left him a $3 tip, despite his protestations.

“What time do you get off work tonight?” Liz inquired.

“Nine,” Michael answered.

“Come on over, you can help me try to wean Serena off of “Law and Order,” she smiled.

Michael shook his head and muttered something about a “losing battle,” but agreed to come by if he wasn’t too tired.

With that, Liz gathered her purse and headed out for the walk home.

~*~*~*~*~

About half an hour later, Liz arrived at her building off the parkway. She exchanged pleasantries with the doorman and took the elevator up to her room. As the car ascended, Liz noticed she was still shivering. The evening air had begun to turn cold, a sign that summer was over and autumn was on its way. Liz made a mental note to pull out her leather jacket and to exchange her some of her shorts, skirts and tank-tops for her pants and long-sleeved shirts, which were kept in storage boxes underneath her bed and in her closet.

When she reached her floor, Liz dug through her purse for the keys as she began making her way down the hall. She unlocked the door, walked through, pulled the keys out and closed it again behind her, turning the deadbolt with a flick of her wrist.

As she turned to face the apartment, she saw Serena pull back the hanging beads that marked the doorway to the kitchen. “Something you want to tell me?” she said in a tone that was half teasing, half admonishing, as she stepped into the living room.

Liz tried to remember if she and Serena had made plans for that night, but she couldn’t think of any. Still, she didn’t understand why she was upset. “Um, sorry I’m late, Ser, but I had a killer day at work and I stopped by Michael’s bar and--”

“No, not about that,” Serena cut her off.

Liz searched her mind again. “Umm, did we have plans?”

“No, you’re fine there.”

Liz paused, still thinking. “Did I promise to cook or something?”

Serena laughed. “Do I look like I have a death wish?” Liz looked Serena up and down from head to toe and back again. Seeing where she was going, Serena laughed quicky, “Don’t answer that.”

“Okay … um, I still don’t get why you’re upset.”

“Who’s Max?”

“Huh?” Liz honestly couldn’t think of any Max.

“Who’s Max?” Serena repeated, still teasingly.

“Umm, is this a trick question?”

“No, it’s completely legitimate. I think I have a right to meet the guy my best friend is seeing, especially since she doesn’t date that often and--”

This time it was Liz who cut Serena off. “What? I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Then why is some guy named Max sending you flowers?”

“Huh?” Liz could definitely say she was beyond confused at that point.

Serena, recognizing that Liz didn’t understand what she was referring to, pulled back the hanging beads so that Liz could see into the kitchen. Liz walked forwards and peered inside, then stopped in her tracks. “Oh, wow …” she sighed. Inside on the kitchen table was a huge bouquet of mixed flowers. There were red roses, pink lilies, white and pink snapdragons, yellow and white Fuji mums, lavender alstroemerias, red poppies and various greens. They spread out so elegantly that it must have been very difficult for whoever was carrying it to see anything. The effect of the mixed colors was certainly beautiful, but it was also, Liz couldn’t help but think, a tad generic. She wondered who on earth would be sending her flowers like this.

“Where did these come from?”

“Max, apparently,” Serena answered.

Liz saw then that the card had been torn from its envelope and both sat on the table next to the vase. Liz looked over at Serena., “Nosy.”

“Hey, I couldn’t help myself. There’s the doorman handing me these flowers, and you weren’t even home when I got here! What’s a girl to do?”

“Didn’t you ever hear that curiosity killed the cat?”

“Didn’t you know that satisfaction brought it back?” Serena quipped back without missing a beat.

“You just have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Liz teased as she walked to the table and picked up the card.

“I’m a lawyer, it’s my job.”

Turning the card over, Liz saw the following message:


FOR YOU, BABE.

- MAX

215-555-8496


Still curious as to whom this Max was, and why on earth he was calling her “babe”, Liz tossed the card back onto the table and turned to face Serena.

“Well?” Serena could hardly contain herself. “Who is this guy?!”

“I honestly have no idea,” Liz said, shaking her head. “I’m not seeing anyone, and I don’t know anyone named Max.”

Serena looked crestfallen. “You disappoint me, Lizzie.”

“Ser, if there was anything to tell you, I’d share, really. But I have no idea who this guy is.”

“You should call him!” Serena exclaimed excitedly.

“Serena, I just got finished saying that I don’t even know who he is! I’m not going to call some stranger up. For all I know, the guy’s a psycho. Or, the flowers were misdirected. Either way, it’s not gonna happen.”

“There’s no way those flowers are misdirected, Liz. The address specifically says ‘Elizabeth Parker.’ It has our apartment number and everything.”

“Well I don’t know, maybe I have a stalker. But I don’t know anyone named Max. Besides, you think I’m going to call up a guy who can’t string together more than three words in a sentence?” Liz made a face of mock disgust.

“Ugh,” grunted Serena. “There goes all my fun for the evening.”

“Don’t despair,” smiled Liz. “Michael’s gonna try to come over after he gets off work tonight.”

“Oh, excellent! Because I invited Pete over to watch some ‘Law and Order.’”

Liz rolled her eyes. Maybe Michael was right about the whole “losing battle” thing after all.

“Hey! I saw that!” Serena shouted.

“What time is Pete coming?”

“About eight, I think. He’s coming from that music thing in North Philly.”

Liz glanced at the clock on the microwave and saw that it was a little after seven. Then her eyes fell to the stove and she smiled ruefully. “I guess that’s why you’re making the great attempt at cooking, huh?”

“I cook just fine, thank you!” Serena huffed.

Liz shook her head. “You think that, sweetie, if it gives you comfort.” She moved the flowers to the center of the table and slipped the card into her purse. “So, what are you torturing us with tonight?”

~*~*~*~*~

In spite of Liz’s hesitations, dinner actually ended up tasting very good, though even Serena would admit that her father and uncle could have done a better job. She made rice pilaf with rabbit and a side of steamed vegetables and Italian bread from Reading Terminal Market. Michael even joined them in time to enjoy some vanilla ice cream for dessert. He was glad to find Liz in much better spirits when he arrived than when he’d last seen her a few hours earlier.

Using her incredible grasp of the English language to guide the conversation, Liz was able to escape the evening with minimal attention paid to the mysterious “Max” who had sent the flowers. She had to endure only a little more light teasing from Serena and Peter, and a rather embarrassing moment at the end of dinner when Michael pulled her to one side and warned her about the dangers of stalkers and other creepy elements of society.

Most of the time, though, she was able to deflect attention on to Pete, who told them all about how he was getting adjusted to classes and his schedule. He was taking Music Theory I, a course with the Russian department called “The Adultery Novel and Film Adaptation”, an introductory biology class which was commonly called among the students “Bio For Poets” (meaning the class fulfilled the science requirement but didn’t anticipate the students to take another biology class, making it ideal for people who didn’t care at all about biology, such as English majors) and Freshman Calculus. Add to this his volunteer work at the high school in North Philly teaching an elective music class three times a week and working after school with the kids who wanted extra help, and his schedule was busy indeed. He seemed to be enjoying it, though, and the enthusiasm he showed for his classes (with the exception of calculus) was obvious to everyone else there.

Pete and Serena briefly talked about the possibility of going up to Boston to see Serena’s parents for a few days over Pete’s fall break, which Pete was ready do to as long as it didn’t interfere with his work in North Philly, since the high school didn’t go on break. After they’d all finished their ice cream, Pete and Liz did the dishes. Michael helped by grabbing a beer and trying to turn on ESPN, only to have Serena snatch the remote from his hands and switch the station to “Law And Order.” The two of them battled it out while Liz and Pete talked and laughed until there was a stack of clean dishes in the dish drainer.

A very pleasant evening was had by all … with the possible exception of Michael, who hadn’t known that Serena could hit quite so hard.

~*~*~*~*~

That night, after their company had parted, Liz left Serena to her TV-watching devices and took a long, luxurious bubble bath. The coconut-scented suds blended well with the smells of ocean given off by the candles Liz lit all around her. She put her favorite CD, a mixed blend that she’d made herself, into the small stereo on the shelf along the windowsill, and soon, the deep voice of Jason Wade singing “You and Me” was lulling her into a state of only half-consciousness. She used a shampoo that smelled of exotic flowers and a pomegranate-scented deep conditioner for her hair.

Soon, though, the water turned tepid and the bubbles faded into nothingness. Against her will, Liz returned to reality as she stepped out of the tub. She dried herself off and changed into a pair of white drawstring pajama pants and a forest green tank top for bed. She hung up her towel, turned off the CD, blew out the candles and opened to door.

Twenty minutes later she was lying in bed. Her damp hair clung to the exposed skin on her neck and shoulders left bare by her tank top. She lay flat on her back, arms folded, eyes closed, waiting for sleep to come. The room was calm and still.

Suddenly she bolted upright in her bed and exclaimed, “Oh my God!” Her eyes darted about the room without really looking at anything. Her breath was heavy.

Quickly, she sprang out of bed and went to her laundry basket in the closet. She pulled out the pants she’d been wearing earlier that evening, reached into the back pocket and retrieved the card that had accompanied the flowers. Then she dashed over to the light switch next to her door and turned it on.


FOR YOU, BABE.

- MAX

215-555-8496


It couldn’t be. Max?! As in Evil Stranger Max? As in the egotistical maniac who tortures cats? Liz just couldn’t believe even he would have that kind of nerve. How did he even get her … ?

The delivery sheet, she thought suddenly. She’d seen that he pretty much had unlimited access to his uncle’s store and records. He must have swiped the delivery sheet she’d signed last Sunday when they’d delivered the lamp.

Liz tossed the card down on her dressing table and turned out the lights. As she crawled back into her bed, a smile crept across her face as a plan began to form in her mind. That smile stayed planted right where it was until she fell into slumber.

~*~*~*~*~

The next day at work, Liz pulled out the card and envelope again and dialed a number.

“Rittenhouse Flowers, how can I help you?”

“Yes, I received a bouquet of flowers from your shop yesterday, and the thing is, a friend of mine sent them to me, but I realized I’ve lost his address. I was wondering if you guys could give it to me so I can send him a thank-you note?”

“Okay, ma’am.” Liz cringed – she hated being called “ma’am”. “I’ll need some verification that you are whom you say you are, since we can’t just give out the address.”

“No, of course, I understand.”

“Thank you. So, could you please give me the serial number on your envelope, your name and address, please?”

“Yes, the number on the envelope is 54896498, my name is Liz Parker, and my address is 2125 Spring Street, Apartment 703, Philadelphia.”

“Very good, Miss Parker. I do have a billing address for the flowers, will that suffice?”

“Yes, that will do very well, thank you.” Liz scribbled down the address as the clerk read it out to her, then thanked her and hung up the phone. Things were falling into place for her quite well.

~*~*~*~*~
Saturday – Two Days Later

The look on Maria’s face was a combination of confusion, bewilderment and as she peered into the contents of the box that had been delivered to the Empire Management office in King of Prussia that day. This was one of the offices that Isabel used as her headquarters; another, smaller one was in Philadelphia, useful for ironing out tour details, but most of the work was done here. While Isabel was away with Max and the band, Maria had free range of both spaces, since her job description didn’t really allow for a “home office”. At least, she thought, someone else got to go with Max and cater to his whims and needs while he was on the road. Maria preferred to be in one place.

Maria continued disbelievingly to gawk the opened box until she was interrupted by her cell phone. The multi-tonal chimes of “The March of the Bumblebees” told her that it was Max calling.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Maria.” Max’s tone was a little softer than general, and a little groggy.

“Hi, Max,” Maria said a little shakily. “Did you just get up?”

“Um, do you have to actually be out of bed in order to have gotten up?”

“Let me rephrase, did you just wake up?”

“Yeah,” he yawned loudly into the phone. “I did.”

Maria glanced at the clock on the wall. It was after 1pm. That was actually a bit early for Max, especially when he was away.

“Um, how’s New York?”

“It’s good.” He yawned. “Busy. So how’s everything?”

“Okay.” Maria didn’t really know how to tell him about the package in front of her.

“You okay, ‘Ria?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she lied.

“Did you take care of that … thing I asked you to do before I left?”

He must have a girl there with him, she thought. “Yeah, I did it …” she trailed off, her voice remaining rather high-pitched.

Max was silent a moment before he spoke again. “What’s going on, Maria?” he asked, though it came out as more of a statement than a question.

“Well, I don’t know quite how to tell you this, Max, but …” how would she explain this one? “She sent them back.”

“She sent them back to the shop?”

“Not exactly …”

“Well then, what?”

“She sent them to the KOP office, and she …” Maria stuck her hand inside, grabbed a handful of the chopped up greens and flowers, then slowly released them and let them fall back into the box. “She kind of turned them into mulch before she did it.”

Maria didn’t hear anything on the line for a while. Just when she thought she’d been cut off, Max burst out into a raucous laughter.

“Max?” Had he completely lost his marbles?

“Yeah, yeah,” he called out between cackles. “I’m here.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, and that’s (laugh, laugh) that’s so funny.” He laughed little more. “Damn, how did she even get that address?”

“I don’t know.”

“Holy shit, that’s just (laugh, laugh) that’s so fucking hilarious.”

“Oh … kay …” Maria was getting a little scared. Maybe she should make him an appointment to see a doctor when he got back.

“What, (giggle) what did you send?” He was calming down now, but Maria noticed he was still speaking without actually giving anything away about the flowers. He definitely had a girl there.

“I sent the largest mixed bouquet they had.”

“Try again – fancier this time.”

“Roses?”

“I don’t know, whatever.”

“Okay, but you should know, there were roses in this bunch, and … they didn’t turn out so well.”

“Something else, then.”

“You got it.”

Max didn’t say anything to her right away, but she could hear his voice speaking quietly, and heard another distinctly female voice speaking back. She waited patiently for them to finish up and for Max to remember that she was still on the line.

“Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, Pam arrives in New York this evening, and since Jane told me she hasn’t booked a hotel room for herself, I suspect that means she intends to stay with you.”

Max grumbled. “Okay. Thanks for the warning.”

“Anytime.”

“Bye, Ria.”

“Later.”

Maria hung up her cell, and then turned her attention yet again to the once-beautiful bouquet of flowers that now vaguely resembled a compost pile. Now that she’d recovered from the original shock, she couldn’t help but crack a smile. This girl had to be something else.



~~~~
TBC

[LairaBehr4]

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the return of the Scribbling Rivalry. Sorry it took so long, but I’ve been traveling around like a mad thing these last few weeks. But I’m back now and flat broke, therefore am in a state to do absolutely nothing except lock myself in my apartment and write!

Please, guys, try not to fall over yourselves with sympathy there.

Donations are acceptable and may be made out to the Starving Twenty-Something In-Debt Former Student Fund.
~*~*~

Have I mentioned lately how wonderful you guys are?

Well, just for the record, you totally are!

Some of you were none too pleased when Serena opened Liz’s card. I’ll address that in this chapter.

My thanks to the following for leaving their feedback:

Heavenli24 – Oh yeah, I was definitely thinking of the episode of ‘Friends’ when I wrote about the mulch!
Alien614
Reamhar – many thanks yet again for giving me this challenge!
Behrsgirl1230 – I worship you, oh talented one!
Dreamsatnight – The mulch thing was all for you, babe!
Cocogurl
DMB (x2) – Well, I’ve already talked to you via email about the job thing. I do address the thing about Liz opening the card here, since reaction to that was a bit more violent than I anticipated. For the record, Max didn’t write that note – Maria did. It was meant to be generic and impersonal, like the flowers. ‘March of the Bumblebees’ is the ringer I have for when my mother calls.
BehrObsession
Believer_Evans
Roswell3035
Behrluv32 (x5) – honey, that’s my job NOW. Max is a ho? Wait until you read this chapter … oh yeah, and update!
Candycane14 – your sympathy was very much appreciated. By some miracle, I’m still alive.
Alien_Friend
Crazybeautiful
Pandas2001
Kitten
Tequathisy
Queen Fee (x2)
Anonymousarfan (x2) – thank you!
MiY (x7) – I just want to thank you again for a highly enjoyable afternoon, good food and amazing company. Your idea about Serena using the law to justify her actions? I used that one. I also worked out away to use that other particularly evil idea of yours … basically, the story outline has gone through several changes since we spoke, but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Outline and email me the guidelines for that challenge we talked about and I’ll start brainstorming! MWAH!
Mica
Clueless
RosyLady – Maria and Liz will meet, and thus we enter the Golden Age.
Lorastar (x2) – thank you, dahling!
Gaby7tvm – thank you! I loved the name Kawai, but thought it might be too girly for a band where three of the members are guys and Tess is a bit of a tomboy. Thank you for your suggestions, though!
Maya – how was the festival?
Flyawayraven – thanks! And welcome to the fun!
Augustus Snodgrass (x2)
Dragon7 – the chapterette is definitely stolen from a line in the book, ‘The Princess Bride’. There are, however, lots of references to the movie in the other chapters. If the Mods hadn’t deleted all my author’s notes, I could tell you exactly where.
Sprayadhesive– love ya.
Lurkers – don’t be shy!


This chapter is dedicated to Augustus Snodgrass, who came over here with the intention of bugging me for an update for ‘Butterfly’ and didn’t realize she was posting at the wrong story. I think that deserves a chapter dedication, don’t you?


Eats, Shoots and Leaves;

Or,

Looking for a Prince in a World Full of Frogs

Chapter Twelve – Of Acquaintances Old and New


After kicking out the girl from last night (Sherry? Carrie? Max couldn’t remember her name), Max showered, dressed and walked languidly down the hall to the suite where his sister was staying. All the members of the band got their own individual rooms, and the largest was claimed as Isabel’s since it would be used to host all the band’s meeting. She had also arranged to have a breakfast cart brought up every day, but only to her room, and always made it a point to strictly prohibit the staff at any hotel they were at from bringing food to the other rooms before 6pm. This way, she was sure that everyone would report to her before doing anything else.

“Nice of you to join us,” Isabel remarked as Max slid into the room, grinning sheepishly. Kyle and Tess sat on the loveseat to her left, and Ben was sitting backwards on one of the suite’s dining chairs, his arms crossed over the top. Directly across from Isabel was an empty sofa, which Max quickly moved to occupy.

“Hi,” he greeted, stretching one arm behind his back and scratching between his shoulder blades. “And how did you sleep, little sister?” he asked in a saccharine tone.

“Fuck you, Max,” Isabel replied as he sat down on the couch.

“Actually, Iz, I think that position has been filled,” said Ben teasingly. Ben was the band’s bass player. The whole group contributed to writing the songs, but Ben was easily considered the most talented member. His parents had worked for the foreign service, and as a result he’d lived all over the world, and had picked up talents, musical styles and instruments from every country. In Bombay, he learned to play the sitar and the bansuri, a bamboo flute with six holes instead of eight like the traditional Western flute. In Tokyo, he took lessons on the shamisen, even though it was considered taboo for a boy to learn an instrument traditionally played by female geisha. He learned the balalaika when he was living in Moscow. In Venice he learned to play the mandolin, and in Belfast he learned the violin, the acoustic guitar and the electric guitar. Even now, when they were on tour, he’d bought a trumpet and was teaching himself to play it. He stood at about six-foot-two, had curly jet-black hair, gray eyes and full red lips.

“Oh yeah,” called out Kyle, the band’s drummer. Kyle was from Austin, Texas, but he had only a minimum accent, so small that most people didn’t even notice it. He played any percussion instrument he could get his hands on. He also knew how to play the acoustic guitar, but he didn’t enjoy that as much. Kyle came from a large family, and he often joked that he learned drums so that he could stand out in his family by being the loudest. His girlfriend Tess, who sang and played the keyboard, resting her head in his lap as her legs hung over the opposite arm. Their fingers were intertwined over Tess’ head. “I saw that hot piece of ass leaving your room a few minutes ago. Ouch!” he exclaimed as Tess elbowed him in his knees. “You’re hotter, baby,” he added as an afterthought. Tess was short, with blonde curly hair, blue eyes, amazing curves and a fiery Virginian temperament. She could also play the piano and the guitar, and according to Kyle, could fix a car better than he could. Kyle had a great tendency for silly jokes, and Tess was a master at doing impersonations. Together, they definitely provided most of the comic relief in the group.

“Let’s move away from the topic of my brother’s sex life, shall we?” Isabel declared. “Now, we have a sound check in a couple of hours, so we have to be in this room” those three words were spoken with unquestionable force “and ready to leave at exactly four. Sound check will last until six. I made arrangements for us to grab a quick bite nearby – NO DRINKING!” Isabel shouted loudly. She’d noticed that the whole group had perked up a little bit, straightened up, widened their eyes and smiling a little when she’d mentioned getting food after the sound check, and she wanted to make sure there was absolutely no confusion over what the rules were. The four grumbled and resumed their previous positions. “And then,” she continued in the same voice as before, “we return to the Garden at seven. You guys have some meet-&-greets backstage and some photo ops with the fans, then to your dressing rooms at seven-thirty. Concert starts at eight-thirty. Everyone clear?”

The group mumbled their acquiescence to the schedule. It wasn’t as though they could do anything about it anyway. Isabel ruled the band with an iron fist when they were on tour. They knew it and she knew they knew it.

“Okay. Concert gets out around eleven. Go to whatever after-parties you want, but curfew’s at four. I’ll see you all back here tomorrow at one in the afternoon. Any questions? Comments? Concerns?”

“Actually …” Max began tentatively. “I just got off the phone with Maria. She said that Pam’s flying in tonight.”

The room let out a collective groan. “Aww, FUCK!” Kyle exclaimed.

“Max, what do you see in her, anyway?” Ben asked.

Max shrugged. “She’s cute.”

“She’s annoying,” Kyle corrected.

“She’s fun,” Max defended

“She’s totally fake! Have you seen the icky color of her hair?” commented Tess as she sat up.

“Says Malibu Barbie,” came Max’s retort.

“She talks through her nose,” observed Ben. Even Isabel had to voice her agreement with that one.

“She does not!”

“Oh, yes she does,” laughed Ben.

“She talks normally,” Max tried to harness some of the sternness that Isabel had mastered.

“Max, she sounds like Minnie Mouse on acid,” said Tess. Then she scrunched up her nose and screeched, “Oooh, Maxie-poo, you were sooooo great! You are soooo cute! Aaaaahhhhh!!”

Everyone commended Tess’s spot-on impression. “She’s been practicing for a while,” smiled Kyle.

“You should hear her during sex,” laughed Ben.

“Hey!” Max whipped his head around. “How do you know what she sounds like during sex?”

“I had the room next to yours in London last year. And by the way, that is never happening again. I went to Isabel the next day and told her to move me to the other side of the hall.”

“Same thing happened to us in Miami!” Kyle grimaced. “That’s the only time in my life I’ve used earplugs to go to sleep.”

“Oh, I can do Pam during sex!” Tess boasted in her normal voice before returning to her Pam impersonation. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed quickly and heavily, “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!” Even Max had to smile at the similarity. “She sounds like a hamster who’s been exercising too hard.”

“Come on, lay off,” grumbled Max, though he did start to think about what they’d said about the rooms. He hadn’t really noticed before, but none of the group had occupied hotel rooms next to his for months. How had that escaped his attention?

“How long is she sticking around, Max?” Isabel didn’t like Pam any more than the others, but she was dating her brother – well, as much as any one girl could be dating Max, anyway – and if she was going to be with the group for any length of time, she would need to make some arrangements.

“I know she’s planning on staying for as long as we’re here, but beyond that, I don’t know.”

“Ask her when she gets here. Okay, anything else? No? Everyone clear on the schedule?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant!” Kyle gave a mock salute, and the others chuckled.

“Oh, Kyle, thank you for reminding me. One of the roadies got sick, so I’m afraid you’ll have to load up your drums from the stage by yourself tonight. Sorry.”

Kyle’s jaw fell open in shock. He knew she was lying, and he also knew she would tell all the roadies not to touch his drums, to leave them there on stage if necessary. Turning to Ben and Max, he said, “I thought we put tyrannical leaders in prison camps these days.”

“I’m not a tyrant, I’m your manager, and I’m in a pissed-off mood today, so don’t mess with me.”

“What’s wrong, Iz?” Ben asked.

Isabel sighed. “I had a friend from college visiting me yesterday. She was supposed to crash here last night so we could hang out, but I haven’t seen her since the party. I’m kinda worried about her. I just hope Mary’s okay.”

“Mary!” Max slammed his hand against his forehead. “That was her name!”

~*~*~*~*~

Tuesday – three days later

“Good evening, Miss Maripova,” called a cherry voice.

“Good evening, Sam,” Serena greeted her building’s doorman with a smile. Sam was dressed in his gray and maroon uniform, and his silver hair shone from underneath his gold-toned cap. He was sixty-years-old, and was an institution at the Westchester building on Cherry Street. There were some tenants who had lived in the building for thirty years, and couldn’t remember a time when Sam wasn’t the evening doorman. “How are you today?”

“Very well, Miss, and yours?”

“Oh, it was all right, thank you.” Serena smiled.

“I have a delivery for Miss Parker, but she hasn’t come in yet.” Serena frowned – it was after eight, where could Liz be? “Shall I give it to you?”

“Yeah, I’ll take it,” Serena said distractedly. She was a little worried to hear that Liz wasn’t back. She knew working late was out of the question, since her bosses refused to pay her for more than 40 hours a week, and it wasn’t like Liz to be out so late during the week.

Now, you must understand, dear readers, that while we all like Serena immensely, and know her to be smart, funny, caring, independent, dedicated, hard-working, et cetera, we must also acknowledge that her temperament outside the work place is a bit like a child’s; her thoughts can easily flit from one thing to the next upon the slightest suggestion or provocation, always finding the newest source of amusement to be the most exciting. So you will understand why all thoughts of worry for Liz vanished from Serena’s mind when Sam pulled out from behind the desk a large arrangement of Peruvian lilies in pink, purple, orange, yellow and white.

“Oh!” Serena exclaimed, a large grin spreading across her face. “How lovely!” She made a mental note to check the card as soon as she could do so without seeming too eager or intrusive to Sam. She briefly toyed with the notion of waiting until she got on the elevator to check it, but dismissed it, knowing she’d never have enough willpower to last that long.

“Careful,” cautioned Sam, “it’s heavier than it looks.”

“Thank you,” said Serena as she cautiously took the vase into her arms with a grunt. Sam was right, it was rather heavy.

“This is the second bouquet she’s gotten in a week, right?” Sam inquired.

Serena had to smile – sometimes, Sam’s encyclopedic brain rivaled her own. “That’s right,” she confirmed. Using the weight of the flowers as an excuse, she turned the vase around in her arms until she found the little envelope with the words “Rittenhouse Flowers” printed in green flowing letters. Same as last time, she thought. “Well, thank you, Sam. Have a good night!”

“You too, Miss Maripova.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Ser?” Liz called as she walked into the apartment. She pulled her keys out of the front lock, closed the door, and locked the deadbolt with a deft flick of her fingers. Then she moved over to where a coat hook hung attached to the wall. The background showed the desert terrain with a silver UFO flying against the sandy dunes, and the hooks to hang the coats on were green with little alien heads – a souvenir from her parent’s restaurant. Her green scarf was hung up first, then her leather jacket. It wasn’t so cold to need a hat or gloves yet, but it would be soon. Serena’s jacket was already hanging up. “Serena?”

“Yeah!” Serena came bouncing from her room. “Sorry, I was working on something. Where were you? I was worried.” In Serena’s defense, readers, she was indeed worried. After all, these flowers were not the first Liz had received recently, so some of the mystery and novelty had worn off. Just in case you were thinking her to be rather heartless, which she certainly was not.

“Oh, I was out get--”

“Never mind that right now, I’m just glad you’re back!” Serena engulfed Liz in a hug, which, considering the height difference between the two, was rather uncomfortable for Liz.

“Nice to see you too,” she said. “Have you been mixing your meds again?”

“No,” Serena released her and began to smile. “But there was something …”

“Oh, no,” Liz backed away slowly, “I know that smile. That’s a bad smile. Were you torturing Mrs. Patterson’s dog again? Because you know, Serena, there are only so many reviews of her nephew’s bakery I can write.”

“Liz, that creature,” Serena’s face and voice were overflowing with disdain and even had hint of rage, “is not a dog, it’s the devil incarnate, and is it my fault he got thrown down the trash chute?”

“It is if you’re the one who threw him.”

“He got mixed in with the trash! How was I to know?”

“The barking and yelping might have tipped you off.”

Serena stuck her nose in the air. “I was listening to my iPod,” she stated.

“Sure you were,” Liz sarcastically replied. “So why do you have your evil smile on?”

“Oh, Lover-boy sent you flowers again.”

“He what?!” Liz was aghast. Surely the guy couldn’t be that dense after what she’d done to the last batch, could he?

“Yeah, he did.” Serena motioned with her head towards the kitchen, and thither went Liz. She pulled back the hanging beads and saw the Peruvian lilies on the table so recently vacated by last week’s delivery. The card and envelope were lying in the table, and Liz knew exactly who had put them there. “You still going to tell me you don’t know any Max?” Serena asked as she appeared at Liz’s side.

Liz rolled her eyes. “You know, as a lawyer, it really doesn’t behoove you to go around committing felonies.”

“What felony?”

“Opening someone else’s mail. There are laws against that sort of thing. Federal laws, not state ones, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That only applies to stamped mail or packages delivered through the post office. It does not apply to letters, parcels or packages delivered through private shipping or messaging means. Therefore, the card does not apply.” Serena smiled and her legal justification of at least the legality of her actions.

“Show-off,” muttered Liz.

“Hey, just be glad I didn’t mock you for your use of ‘behoove.’”

“You just did!”

“Whatever.”

“Clever argument, that one. So what does this one say?” Liz walked over to the table and picked up the card. The inscription read:


IF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SUCCEED …

- MAX

215-555-8496


It was just as impersonal and generic as the flowers. Did he even write these notes or pick those flowers out himself?

“Soo?” Serena’s voice pointedly inquired. “Who’s Max?”

Liz sighed and figured that at least if she told Serena, she could stop worrying about her opening the cards. “Remember that jerk from the antique store?”

“The Evil Stranger guy who kept offering to sleep with you?”

“Yeah, him.”

Serena’s jaw dropped. “HE’S been sending you flowers?”

“Apparently so. He’s the only Max I know.”

“Wait a minute, how do you know his name now?”

“He delivered that lamp I bought,” Liz explained.

“Oh … that’s how he got your address, too.” Liz nodded in confirmation of Serena’s suspicions.

“What happened to the other flowers? I haven’t seen them since Friday.”

Now it was Liz’s turn to sport an evil smile. “I kind of returned them.”

“To the flower shop?”

“No, I sent them to the billing address. The floral shop gave it to me.”

“They just give out that kind of information?”

“Well, I might have said that I wanted to thank my friend and had lost his address.”

Serena laughed. “And you think I’m bad,” she admired.

“I learned from you, Ser. I guess I’ll send these back, too.”

“What? But Lizzie … they’re so pretty!”

“Ser, if I keep them, who knows what that weirdo could do? The guy would probably take it as an invitation to move in.”

“Oh come on, that’s a bit absurd.”

“I don’t know,” mused Liz, “the guy thought I walked into a store to sleep with him.”

“Hmm, good point. So we’re just going to send them back?”

“Well, actually,” Liz smiled, “you want to help me turn them into fertilizer first?”

“Okay!”

Liz found two pairs of scissors while Serena went to fetch a box. They rendez-vous’d in front of the television.

“So hey,” Serena grunted as she moved the coffee table in front of the couch. “You never told me why you were late tonight.”

“Oh, yeah!” exclaimed Liz. “You’re gonna love me - I got us three tickets to go see Dar Williams at Bryn Mawr! I figured we could invite Alex to come along with us.”

Serena gasped, then shrieked. Dar Williams was a favorite singer of both hers and Liz’s. She wrote her own songs, mostly of the folk variety. “Oh Lizzie, I love you, I love you, I love you!” Serena flung her arms around Liz and began jumping up and down.

“I knew you would,” laughed Liz. Eventually Serena calmed herself and they sat down. Liz used Serena’s present goodwill towards her to pull out two DVD’s, ‘Reality Bites’ and ‘Bringing Up Baby’, rather than the usual dose of endless ‘Law and Order’, and the two of them spent the evening talking, laughing, and snipping away at the flowers.




~~~~
TBC

[LairaBehr4]

For the record, bold face letters are words spoken over the telephone, italics are people’s thoughts, bold italics are songs being sung.

‘Amazing’ is sung by Blue October.
‘Jesse’s Girl’ is sung by Rick Springfield

Eats, Shoots and Leaves;

Or, Looking for a Prince in a World Full of Frogs

Chapter 13 – Karma, Stupid

For reasons unknown, Liz couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face as the merry ding! of the bell over the door broke the silence. She stepped inside the store and called out, “Hello? Joe? Anyone here?”

A black and white blur came rushing from the back of the house. Liz barely had time to register the soft, tiny thuds against the floor when Paul leaped into her arms and clung to her shoulder. Liz laughed and wrapped her arms around him to support him. She looked down into his wide black eyes, and then snuck a glance at his paws. She was very glad to be wearing her pea coat, since sharp-looking claws were disappearing into the sea of blackness on her shoulders.

“Well, hello, sweetheart,” rang out Joe’s cheery voice as he stepped in from the hallway. “’Bout time you dropped in to see us.”

“Hey, Joe,” Liz greeted. She tried to extract herself from Paul, but the more she struggled, the deeper he sunk in his claws. Deciding to pick her battles, she surrendered to his weight on her front. She walked awkwardly to where Joe was.

Noticing her discomfort, Joe approached her as she came closer, “Stop that,” he said firmly to Paul, smacking a paw lightly. Paul reluctantly loosened his grip as Joe wrapped his arms around him from behind and set him on the floor. Still, the cat would not give up entirely, and began to rub himself against Liz’s leg to coax her into picking him up again.

“It’s uncanny,” Joe observed. “He never likes people that much. Not even me.”

“How can he not like you? If nothing else, aren’t you his source of food on a regular basis?”

“Well, sometimes, but the guy’s independent enough to go off without me if he needs to. I leave some dried food out for him, but he likes finding his own, too. Not so much now, though. He’s getting older. Ten years ago, there wasn’t a rat or mouse for five blocks in any direction of this store.”

“Yeah, I know from personal experience that that particular statistic is no longer accurate,” Liz remarked, her hand going to rub the spot at the back of her head that had born the evidence of her fall that first day she came to the store.

“Oh yeah, my nephew told me about that. He’s been harping on any excuse he can to get me to get rid of Paul there.” Liz looked down at the cat, and leaned down to pet him, crouching in such a way that made it impossible for Paul to jump on her again. Though, it certainly didn’t look as though Paul was idle in searching for a way to make it work. Joe smiled. “I think he’s just jealous, though.”

“Who? Your nephew?”

“Yeah. I think you got to him, too. He and Paul are more alike than they think.”

“See, I would have guessed he’d resembled a dog,” Liz didn’t even realize what she’d said until it was already out there. She immediately looked up, expecting to see Joe upset with her for insulting his nephew, since they were obviously close. Instead, his eyes gleamed with amusement. “I’m sorry, Joe, I shouldn’t have said that.” She stood up quickly to make her apologies.

“No, no,” Joe laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Max has got enough people telling him how great he is.”

“No limit to human stupidity,” Liz retorted. Suddenly her eyes widened and her hand flew to her head. “Oh, there I went again! I apologize, Joe.”

Joe, on the other hand, was laughing jovially. “Hey, I just told you not to worry about it.”

“I just don’t know what it is about him that gets me like this,” Liz confided. “I’m usually a really nice person, but that guy just … ggrrr!” Liz vented out the frustration that had been building up over the last few weeks. Even when he wasn’t around, Max seemed to have managed to draw Liz into a pattern. Flowers arrived every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, and every time they were a little bigger, a little more expensive, and thankfully, a little less generic. Some of the arrangements lately had actually been quite beautiful. There was a beautiful arrangement of white, pink and glass lilies, which were a deep red in color; rich orange tiger lilies with purple irises and mixed greens; brightly colored stem gerberas in reds, pinks and yellows; and white and red posies. All of these were accompanied by a few nondescript words on a card, followed by Max’s phone number. Liz and Serena had settled into a rather comfortable routine on these days of snipping the flowers to bits while watching ‘Law and Order’, or, on luckier days, whatever Liz could either convince or blackmail Serena into watching. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, Liz would drop off their handiwork at the post office on her way to work, early enough to have it sent out with that day’s mail. All in all, it was a very efficient system that had emerged over the last few weeks.

Lately, though, Max seemed to have stepped it up a little more. When Sam had shown an arrangement of carnations, alstroemeria, lilies and roses, all in pink, and accentuated with sprinkles of forget-me-nots, Liz had actually been a little shocked. It was so large, she couldn’t even carry it upstairs herself, but had been forced to ask Sam to help her. Then there had been an incredible arrangement of sunflowers and long-stemmed lilac tulips that was so full, it had taken Serena and Liz over an hour and a half to finish destroying completely. Serena had grumbled the entire time.

Then, earlier today, the final straw – two dozen long-stemmed red roses, arranged with a dozen white calla lilies, arrived at the apartment building. Serena had taken one look at them and had forbidden Liz from laying a single destructive finger on them. She claimed they were too beautiful to be destroyed. Liz put up a good fight, pointing out the horrid way Max had treated her and that the flowers were a symbol only of his trying to sweet-talk his way into her pants, but Serena had countered that the notes sent along with the flowers (the latest of which read “Every woman likes red roses… don’t they?”) were the symbol of said sweet-talking, and the flowers were, on the other hand, pretty and made the apartment smell nice. Therefore, Liz could destroy the cards, but not the flowers – or at least, not this particular batch. At the end of it all, Liz had a headache from arguing with her and had bowed out gracefully. Serena had pranced around the apartment, gleeful from her victory, and Liz, unwilling to subject herself to another round of similar gloating, determined to put a stop to these flower deliveries once and for all.

What Liz didn’t tell Serena, though, was that she still had the cards from all the deliveries that had been made. She wasn’t sure why she kept them, so she settled for telling herself it was for the purpose of mocking him mercilessly once he got back to town. This was credible enough, since the cards were, without exception, extremely cheesy, and Liz was still dubious as to whether he was writing them himself or having the flower shop do it for him. So, should he ever come around again, she’d have plenty of ammunition to use against him.

But even this excuse faltered when a little voice in her head cunningly reminded her that she never wanted to see him again.

So she responded the best way she knew how – by remembering that listening to the little voices in her head usually did not end well, and that she had more important matters to attend to. Like making sure the flower deliveries ceased – immediately. So she’d given up a Sunday and had brought herself back to Joe’s antiques. Admittedly, she was excited at the prospect of seeing Joe again. He had a good nature, an easy smile, and so far he didn’t seem to mind her clear distaste of his nephew one iota. All in all, it did not make for an entirely distasteful way to pass an afternoon.

“Max does have that effect on some people,” Joe wryly commented, mildly entertained at the way Liz’s fists curled together when she growled.

“He isn’t here, is he?” Liz asked, standing up.

Joe didn’t bother hiding his amusement at the sudden shift in her conversation. “I thought he pissed you off royally. You know, ‘ggrr’?” he mimicked.

“He does,” Liz said defensively.

“Then why are you looking for him?” Joe replied without skipping a beat.

Liz sighed. “He’s been sending me flowers,” she told him, her distaste of the word “flowers” being more than evident.

“Well, what’s wrong with that? I thought girls liked that sort of thing,” Joe mused as he picked up Paul from the floor and set him on the table.

“There are several things wrong with it, Joe. He got my address off of that delivery form when you guys delivered the lamp. That information is supposed to be confidential, and now he’s having deliveries made to my home. Plus, the guy hit on me, very crudely, multiple times, and I turned him down, and now he thinks flowers are going to get me to change my mind? He’s clearly twisted! And I like to at least have control over what twisted people get my address.”

Joe sobered up considerably when he heard about Max taking the delivery form. When Liz had finished, he nodded slowly. “I thought I’d misplaced that copy of the delivery notice,” he said softly. “I’m sorry that happened, Liz. He’s never done anything like that before, and believe me, he won’t do it again.” Disappointment shone in his eyes as he spoke to her.

Liz did indeed believe him. Her mouth hung open in shock at the reaction her words had invoked in him. He’d called her by her first name. He hadn’t done that before, ever, and she knew it wasn’t an accident. Rather, it reinforced that he understood the seriousness of the trust that had been breeched, and that the responsibility rested with him by the extension of his nephew. The knowledge and observation caused a thick tension to settle over both of them. A part of her wished she hadn’t said anything, suddenly; the emotions playing across Joe’s face – sadness, offense, disappointment, anger, and others – were painful for her to watch, much less endure the knowledge that she had put them there. Really, was getting flowers delivered so bad?

Determined to cheer him up, since she’d been the cause of his dampened spirits, she said with as much cheer as she could muster, “Come on, it’s nearly closing time. I’ll buy you a drink at that dive up the road.”

Joe chuckled. “You’re on, sweetheart.” With those three words, the tension evaporated as they made their way out the door and into the street.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel stood from backstage at the Hyundai Pavilion in Glen Helen, California, and watched with a satisfied grin as Infiltration finished the third song of its second set. She was very pleased with herself and the band. What had been intended to be a brief tour of special appearances had already extended a week longer than originally anticipated, and would continue for another eight days before they finally went home..

So far, this concert was going exceedingly well. Isabel had a very strict policy about the order of songs organized by both tempo and genre, mildly adapted from when she’d read Nick Hornby’s book “High Fidelity” in high school. The first song should be mid-tempo, followed by a song with a faster beat, then a slow-tempo song, then a fast-tempo song (preferably a cover and something of a genre apart from the usual alternative rock they played), then a low-key mid-tempo song, an acoustic or solo cover sung by one member of the band only, a fast and loud song, a slower cover song, and an up-beat feel-good song to finish. Three sets of nine songs made for a concert that was enjoyable to all, had lots of variety and chances to showcase the many talents of the band and its members, both individually and as a group, and always left the crowd wanting more. All in all, Isabel thought it was a brilliant plan – and with sold-out concerts all over the world, the fans seemed to agree with her.

And so Max’s voiced crooned the ending of the band’s hit from earlier that year ‘Amazing’ and Isabel watched as he exchanged a wide smile with Ben, who was to take over as lead vocals on the next song. They waited for the applause to lull dimly before Kyle counted out the beat with a “One-two-three-four!” before Max picked the familiar opening notes. After only the first six notes were played, the crowd knew what as coming and roared their approval before Ben’s voice rang out.

Jesse is a friend,
Yeah I know he’s been a good friend of mine
But lately something’s changed
And it ain’t hard to define,
Jesse’s got himself a girl,
And I wanna make her mine.

Isabel felt a vibration on her hip. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She had to do a double-take when she checked the Caller ID before flipping it open.

“Uncle Joe?”

“Isabel,” her uncle’s voice sounded in her ear. From that one word alone, Isabel knew he was beyond pissed, and even though she was twenty-seven, her knees began to shake. Her uncle was the most even-tempered person she’d ever met. Isabel had only seen him mildly angry at her father at a holiday dinner or two, and even then, he’d never raised his voice or done anything remotely menacing. Unlike Phillip, who shouted at the slightest provocation, Uncle Joe’s words would become crisp and sharp as he pronounced them, as if he were enunciating every letter so as not to be misunderstood. Through it all, though, he would manage to keep his cool and even sneak in a joke or two, often at his own expense. But tonight, he seemed to be talking through a clenched jaw, and even though she was backstage at a rock concert and he certainly wasn’t straining to make himself heard, she had no trouble understanding him.

“Uh, what’s going on, Uncle Joe?” Isabel inquired nervously.

“I need to speak with your brother. His cell phone’s off. Where is he?”

Oh, boy, Isabel thought. “He’s, um, …” for a minute Isabel actually considered going onto the stage and pulling Max off so he could be the one to deal with their uncle instead of her. But, realizing that such a display would be rather infantile and cowardly, not to mention rather scandalous, she opted instead to take the heat herself.

“I’m sorry; he’s in the middle of a concert, Uncle Joe. Should I give him a message?” Isabel already knew she’d be giving Max a message of her own anyway after this phone call.

“Just tell him he’s fired.”

Isabel was stunned. Max had been taking all sorts of measures to escape to the store since he was twelve years old. It was a safe haven for him, a place to go to get away from his own rather overbearing father. Phillip and Joe’s dad had been harsh, too, so Joe understood where his nephew was coming from. Knowing that his brother and his kind-hearted wife would never forbid their son from seeing him, he had agreed that Max could come whenever he wanted, as long as he would take a taxi (this stemmed after Max took the Philadelphia subway by himself during one of these escapades), would do his schoolwork, and would help out in the store when needed. On nights when Max didn’t have school the next day, his uncle set up the fold-out couch for him and would teach him to play guitar. Joe had always loved having his nephew over for any reason at all. He’d made sure Max graduated high school and gone to college when he had wanted more than once to drop out as his uncle had done. In return, Joe had given Max his first steady job, had taught him everything he knew about music, and had been the one person he could talk to freely about his father with complete sympathy, free of recourse or judgment. Max had never had a shortage of friends, nor of girlfriends, but nevertheless, he could still be found at Joe’s place at least two or three nights a week. And after the band had formed, Joe had put in a call to an old friend in the industry on their behalf. And even with all the success that the band had enjoyed, Max still considered the shop to be the same safe haven it had been when he was a kid; not only from his father now, but also from the more sinister sides of the music industry. Joe was Max’s rock, his anchor, the person who kept him grounded (well, relatively, anyway).

And Joe was firing him?!?!?!

“Isabel?” Joe’s stark voice called.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Isabel said, still shocked.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, … I heard, Uncle Joe.”

“You’ll tell him,” Isabel heard, but she couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a question, a statement, or a command.

“Yes, of course, I’ll … I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you. Good luck with the rest of the tour.” His words were still sharp, but his tone had softened a bit.

“Thanks. See you later, Uncle Joe.”

The band was already into the next song by the time Isabel was aware that she’d said anything at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel wisely chose not to reveal to Max what had transpired until the concert was over. During the intermission between the second and third set, she was all support and encouragement, though somehow, through the sixth sense common to so many twins, Max knew there was something wrong. As she was ushering them back towards the stage for the third set, Max took her elbow in his hand and whispered, “What’s wrong, Iz?”

“Nothing,” Isabel turned away.

Max only grasped her arm tighter. “Not ‘nothing’. Tell me, Iz.”

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she met his eyes. “I’ll tell you after the show,” she said hurriedly, buying herself a little more time.

Max ran his eyes up and down her face once, and finally decided to let it go there. “Okay,” he released her, but as he brushed past her heading back to the stage, he repeated her words, “after the show.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“It’s after the show, Iz,” Max said gently as he leaned against the counter.

“Yeah, about that,” Isabel stalled as she walked nervously around Max’s dressing room. “Maybe we can push it back a little further – what about Christmas? Or New Years? Maybe when you get married; that’s a safe date, after all, it’ll never happen, so—”

“Isabel, you’re rambling. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Isabel paced a few more times, turned to face Max, looked at him for a few seconds, and then said quickly, “UncleJoecalledandfiredyou!”

“Huh?” Max asked, incredulous because he wasn’t sure of what she’d said, and he knew he couldn’t say what he thought she’d said.

Isabel sighed. “Uncle Joe called and fired you.”

Now it was Max’s turn to be stunned and have his mouth open and close several times before words managed to make their way out. “Uh, did he, uh … did he say why?”

“No.”

“Well, did you ask?!”

“No! Max, the man is scary when he’s angry!”

“Yeah, I’m aware, Isabel.”

“Good, so you’ll understand that I didn’t want to pry,” Isabel sarcastically replied.

Max took a deep breath. “Okay … well, I’ll … I’ll call him in the morning and sort this out.”

“You’d better, because I don’t want to be on the receiving end of another conversation like that one, Max. You got it?” Isabel accentuated her words by walking up to Max and poking him in the chest with one long, shapely finger.

“Ow! Violent, woman!” He smiled and rubbed the spot where Isabel had wounded him.

Isabel narrowed her eyes in response.

Just at that moment, a knock sounded on the door. “Maaaaxxeeeyy?”

“Oh, God,” Isabel groaned and rolled her eyes.

The door opened to reveal a blonde only an inch or two shorter than Isabel, with a much smaller bone structure. She weighed only 125 pounds, almost all of which appeared to be centered in her frontal chest area. Her blonde hair, obviously from a bottle, reached to her shoulders, and was stick-straight and thin. Her eyes were blue and lined heavily with eyeliner and mascara. She wore a smooth white tube top and a short grey and maroon skirt that left very little to the imagination. Her feet were adorned with four-inch white heels.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was someone in here,” the newcomer said in a high-pitched voice as she slipped over to Max’s side, sliding her arm around Max’s waist. “Maxey-poo, we’re gonna be late for Katie’s party.”

“Yeah, I’m coming, Pam,” Max stood up. Instead of walking out the door, though, he went and stood in front of Isabel. “Iz, I …” he looked as though he was struggling for something to say. Eventually, he gave up and settled for, “I’ll see you later.”

Isabel nodded in silence as Pam and Max walked out the door. As an afterthought, just before they closed the door behind them, she hollered, “Be back at the hotel by four!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“What do you mean, he won’t talk to me?!” Max yelled into his cell phone. He had tried for over a day now to get in touch with his uncle, but the man didn’t believe in cell phones or answering machines, but apparently, he did believe in caller ID. Every time Max called, the phone just rang and rang.

“Well, he sounded pretty angry, Max,” Maria gave an involuntary shudder as she remembered her earlier phone conversation with Joe. “I called and talked to him like you asked me to, but he seemed pretty set on the subject. You know, the guy really could be quite scary when he wanted to be.

“Did he say why?” Max couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Only that you took something…? From the store?”

Max gave out a long sigh. So his uncle had figured that he had taken the carbon copy of the cute brunette’s delivery papers. Max had known he was living on borrowed time on that one, but he’d hadn’t been willing to give up on that girl without a fight, and when opportunity presented itself, he’d taken it, and figured he’d deal with the consequences later.

Apparently, it was later.

“Did he say anything else I should be aware of?

“He said to cease and desist immediately, and forget you ever got your hands on that … whatever it was.” If Max had to guess, he’d say Maria was dropping a number of expletives from Joe’s speech and merely delivered the basic overall message.

Max sighed again. “Okay.” So much for that, he thought. But still, in spite of all the trouble this had caused, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “So how did those roses turn out?”

“Funny you should ask,” Maria chuckled. “They’re not here.”

“What?!” Max disbelievingly asked. “But it’s Monday! Saturday’s batch always comes back on Monday.”

“Well, today it didn’t.”

Max’s grin could have lit up all of Los Angeles. And just when he was about to give up hope …

~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria had to laugh at her boss’ persistence. When all the other arrangements they’d sent kept right on being returned, he thought maybe red roses would work. He hated to give roses because of the strong feelings they symbolized, which he’d certainly never truly had for anyone, but every woman he knew went gaga over them. So he’d told Maria to order some, saying to her, “All girls like red roses, don’t they?” Maria had thought this was so cute; she ended up cleaning it up a little and using it as the message on the card that was sent along with the flowers.

“Listen, Maria, I want you to do something very important for me, okay?”

“Sure, Max,” Maria answered, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit scared of what he might ask her. Max’s big ideas almost always started with an introduction very much like that one, and almost never worked out according to plan.

“I want you to take all copies of her address that you might have – the delivery notice and anywhere else you might have written it down - and throw them away, right now,” Max instructed her over the phone.

Maria was confused, but obeyed. “Done,” she said when she’d completed her task.

“Excellent.” There was a pause on the line. Just as Maria was about to check if they’d been disconnected, she heard Max’s voice again with a mischievous glint in it. “Hey Maria, do you remember the name of that girl I sent flowers to that time?”

Maria laughed. “Yeah, I remember. Elizabeth Parker.”

“Can you find out where she works for me?”

“Huh?” Maria couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. Do a Google search or whatever it is you have to do, and find out where she works by Wednesday. Can you do that?”

“Uh …” Maria didn’t see where this one was going, but the instructions seemed simple enough. “Sure.”

“Thanks, ‘Ria, you’re the best.”

“Uh huh,” Maria said absently. As she hung up the phone, she just had to hope that Max knew what he was doing.

~~~~
TBC

[LairaBehr4]

Hi all, I’m back! And right on time! The Scribbling Rivalry has returned.
Of course, Lora’s story is going to end any day now, but still, we gave it our all.

I’m still amazed at the reaction this story has gotten from all of you, and even some whom I didn’t even realize were reading it! Thank you for all your feedback, and especially for the nominations. I’m entirely undeserving.
LegalAlien
Sprayadhesive
Candycane14
Roswell3053 – how’s your daughter?
Anonymousarfan
Believer_evans
Confusedfool
Michelle in Yonkers (x3) – hey, no one’s perfect.
Begonia9508
Queen Fee
Emz80m
BehrObsession
Katydid (x2)
Clueless (x2)
Dreamsatnight (x4)
Mica
Maya
RosyLady
Alien614
Cocogurl (x2)
Jamy21
Lorastar (x3)
Smac
Alien_Friend
Paper
BelevnDreamsToo – for all your PM’s. Hope your dad is okay.
Lurkers

And now, for the shameless plugging section
I’m sure I’ll get a note from someone at some point about how wildly inappropriate it is for me to use this story to promote my own beliefs, but I met the founder of the National Advocates for Pregnant Women, Lynn Paltrow, a few weeks back and I was completely blown away by her organization and all the work that it does. In particular, the case of Amber Marlowe scared the hell out of me. I won’t ram anything down your throats, but this was the first I’d ever heard of some of these cases. Check it out if you like.

And now, on with the show …



Eats, Shoots and Leaves: Or,

Looking for a Prince in a World Full of Frogs

Chapter 14 – Mysteries and Scandals


“So you did it?”

“Yes, Max, I did it.”

“And you told the shop?”

“I told them, Max.”

“And you called in my favor to David and asked him to spread the word?”

“I called, I asked, it's done.” Maria was getting exasperated.

“Private delivery, no returns, right?”

“Oh wait, did you say no returns?”

“Ria …” Max groaned.

“Max, I took care of it. She couldn't send this back with a boomerang. Now will you please chill? I've got it!”

Max sighed. He knew he was being unfair to Maria. After all, she'd never let him down yet – a fact of which she was more than happy to remind him.

“I know you've got it. Thank you, Maria.”

“You're welcome, Max.”

Through the phone, Maria heard a sound that made her cringe. “Maaaaxxxie-pooooo!” She could almost see Max roll his eyes.

“I gotta go, 'Ria.”

“Have fun, Maxie-poo.” Then before he could censure her for use of that dreaded nickname, she hung up the phone and began to make the necessary arrangements for his return to Philadelphia next week.

~*~*~*~*~

When there were no flowers waiting at the front desk on Tuesday, Liz was thrilled. She couldn't believe it had been so easy! Clearly, whatever Joe did or said to Max had done the trick. She should have tried that option much earlier.

Not that imagining Evil Stranger's face when he opened up box after box of chopped-up flowers wasn't amusing.

On Wednesday, Liz practically sailed along the city streets as she made her way to work. It was the first week of October; the weather was just beginning to change. Only the tips of the outermost leaves on the trees were turning yellow. There breeze was just a little bit stronger than it had been two weeks ago, the temperature a mere seven degrees lower. The change was slow, subtle, but it filled Liz with excitement. Autumn was coming! It hummed through her body and spirit like a single piano note echoing through a silent room. It filled her with incredible impulses to do things like carve a pumpkin and make apple cider. In fact, both of those things sounded rather appealing, especially since next week, Serena and Pete would be going up to Boston to visit Serena's parents, and Liz would most likely be alone. She'd definitely have to bring up the possibility of a trip to Lancaster with Alex.

She was in a wonderful mood, and nothing was going to change that.

Or so she thought.

At 2:31 that afternoon, Liz was distracted by a long shadow over her desk as she went edited a manuscript entitled 'The Poor Man's Cookbook'. In Liz's opinion, it would be lucky to warrant a place among the magazine racks at check-out counters. So the distraction wasn't entirely unwelcome. She looked up and saw a young man, perhaps three or four years younger than herself, wearing a black polo shirt with the picture of a diamond embroidered in the left pocket and a name tag saying “David”.

“Elizabeth Parker?” he inquired.

~*~*~*~*~

“Maripova,” Liz heard Serena say in her most professional-sounding voice. Liz didn't usually call Serena at work, and it still caught her by surprise how the same girl who cried when she ran out of cookies & cream ice cream could turn around and fool the world as well as she did.

“Hey, it’s me,” Liz whispered, trying to keep her conversation from being overheard by those nearby. She’d been the subject of gossip ever since David had left, and she hated every second of it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I need a few minutes of your professional assistance.”

“That’ll be forty dollars,” Serena said, no trace of joking in her voice.

“Or I could let it slip at your next cocktail party that you still sleep with a stuffed animal.” Liz glared defensively as a gaggle of women who worked on a different floor entirely walked conspicuously by her desk, craning their necks to try to get a better view or to overhear snippets of her conversation.

“I cave,” Serena responded immediately. “What do you need?”

Liz sighed. “What are the legal qualifications for stalking?”

“Why, is Kevin Bacon in town again?”

“No,” Liz laughed, grateful for some reprieve from the situation she found herself in. “Remember the flowers?”

“Who could forget?”

“Well, he’s not sending them to the house anymore.”

“Yeah, I think we established that. Wasn’t that the whole point of going back to that shop?”

“No, I mean, he’s not sending them to the house anymore.”

“Oh,” Serena paused, then suddenly understanding dawned over her. “Ooooohhhh.”

“Yeah. And, he’s not sending flowers, either.”

“Okay … Um, I’m coming up a blank here, Liz. Why is this a bad thing?”

“Serena, he had a diamond necklace delivered to me. At my work.”

“He what?!” Serena exclaimed.

“I know! God, Ser, this is so embarrassing! It was delivered by a guy who works for the shop, right to my desk! Everyone in my office saw it. This is so humiliating.”

“But, Liz! It’s diamonds!”

“I know! I can’t accept it! But no one will take it back! I’ve spent the last forty minutes calling jewelry shops, pawn shops, everything I can find, but as soon as I describe the necklace to them, everyone loses interest. Where does a guy with torn jeans working in his uncle’s furniture store get this kind of clout?”

“Wait, wait – what do you mean, you can’t accept it?” Serena was flabbergasted.

“Serena! The guy’s a jerk! I’m not keeping this necklace.”

Serena’s curiosity was getting the better of her. “Is it a big necklace?”

Liz sighed. “It’s a platinum pendant with one big diamond in the middle and a bunch of little diamonds all around it, but God, Ser, that’s not the point! How did he even find out where I worked, anyway?”

“Well, it’s not hard, Liz,” Serena told her realistically.

“What do you mean? What, did he steal my tax records or something?”

“No, he probably just did a plain old internet search. Your name and picture are on your company’s website.” Serena pulled up the publisher’s site where Liz worked at, and sure enough, there was not only her name, title, email and phone number, but also a picture of Liz with some of her co-workers sporting white and pink T-shirts at last year’s Race for the Cure in Philadelphia.

Liz groaned. Of course, Serena was right. She’d forgotten all about that. Liz likewise pulled up the website and shook her head at how easy it was to find information these days. “Well, this is just ridiculous.”

“Aw, come on, look on the bright side. At least he stopped sending the flowers to your house like you asked! He’s not using any information that he couldn’t have gotten on his own.”

“Yeah, but now I’ll have to go back to the mines to return this necklace.” This was insane. Where did a guy get that kind of money, anyway?

“Well, I’m sorry, Liz, but he’s within his legal limits. I mean, it’s not as though he’s following you around or boiling rabbits on your stove.”

Liz was barely listening to Serena. She’d been perusing her internet’s Favorites menu, and her eyes had struck on something that had given her an idea of how to rid herself of the cumbersome necklace.

“Hello? Liz?”

“Oh, sorry, Serena. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“But Li-”

Liz hung up the phone before Serena could say anything else, then clicked on the link that had captured her attention. As she perused the site, she couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face.

~*~*~*~*~

Friday - two days later

“Come on, Ser, we’re gonna be late!”

“We are not going to be late, Lizzie, calm down,” Serena chided as she came out of her room. She was wearing long, skinny jeans, covering brown leather boots that reached to her ankle and added an inch to her already impressive height. Her white peasant blouse had red and orange embroidery at the hems. She shrugged on her brown leather jacket that always brought out the highlights in her hair and the brilliant green of her eyes.

“We told Alex we’d meet him at 6:15, and the train leaves in seven minutes! We’re never going to make it on time.” Liz wore a dark-blue V-neck shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves and black hip-huggers with a pink scarf as a belt, the ends hanging down at one side. She already had on her own waist-length black leather jacket, and was wearing black boots that gave three inches to her height, knowing she’d need every one of them to survive an evening with Serena and Alex, who towered over her like redwoods over saplings.

“Chill, young grasshopper,” Serena teased. “We’re going.” Serena grabbed her purse and walked out of the apartment’s open door. Liz closed and locked it behind them.

As they walked to 30th Street Station to catch the train to Bryn Mawr, Serena turned to Liz. “So are you still not going to tell me what you did with the necklace?”

“Nope,” Liz said, smiling victoriously.

“Aww, come on, Lizzie! I didn’t even get to see it! That’s just not fair.”

“Fair or not, the necklace is gone, and I would appreciate it not being mentioned again tonight. Instead, why don’t you tell me what you and Peter and your parents have planned for your week off?”

Knowing Liz was serious, Serena reluctantly complied with the change of subject, and the remainder of their journey was spent quite pleasantly.

After getting off the train at Bryn Mawr, Liz and Serena made their way to the Bertucci’s a block away on Lancaster Avenue, where Alex was waiting for them. After catching up a little, placing their orders and diving into the delicious rolls, Alex said, “Hey, Liz, whatever happened to that guy who was sending you flowers?”

Liz could swear her eye-rolling would have been audible if it hadn’t been for Serena’s laughter.

~*~*~*~*~

After changing the subject yet again by inviting Alex to the pumpkin-patch outing she and Serena had been planning, Liz managed to enjoy her dinner and stay away from the subject that she was trying so hard not to think about. When the bill was paid and the rolls were gone, the three friends walked the brief journey to the campus where Liz and Serena had first met and had spent their college days. The 7:00 concert was just getting out, and there was only a short line of those with tickets for the 9pm concert. Seats were unmarked, so it was first-come, first-served. Serena, Alex and Liz were lucky to get ninth-row-aisle seats, and when Dar Williams came on stage and began strumming the opening chords of “The Babysitter’s Here” on her guitar, no two girls cheered louder than our heroines.

When that song was over, Dar gave a short introduction to the next song, saying “I don’t play this song much anymore. There’s a line in it about Yoko Ono selling songs to Nike, which of course, she didn’t do, because Michael Jackson owns the songs.” She chuckled. “Talk about mortal sins. But, here we go.”

Liz already knew the song Dar was referring to – it was one of her favorites, and she couldn’t help from mouthing the words along as Dar sang.

I wonder if Yoko Ono
Ever thought of staying solo;
If she thought of other men and
If she doubted John Lennon
Worrying that he’d distract her art.

Sitting in the Apple sessions,
Giving John her music lessons,
Challenging the warring nations
With her paper installations,
Did she guard her Yoko human heart?

Well they could talk about me,
Yeah, they could talk about me,
Throw me to the velvet dogs of pop star history,
But I won’t be your Yoko Ono
If you’re not good enough for me

Some will give their love for fashion,
Others trade their gold for passion.
I don't have the goods to start with,
Never had the reins to part with,
Still, I hope you’ll take me seriously

'Cause I think I could go
Deep as the sea of Yoko,
You don't know a person like me,
I could sell your songs to Nike,
And for all you know,
I could save your soul
As only true love can change your mind
Make you leave your screaming fans behind

When John called the wind an opera,
Making love with every chakra,
When he said her voice would carry,
And when he whispered old Chuck Berry
Only then would Yoko set him free

Fame will come and vanish later
Transcendental love is greater
I think if we had this somehow
We'd be feeling famous right now
We'd be saying love means everything.

Abruptly, Dar stopped her singing. “Oh, wait, that’s wrong … um, … Damn! I can’t remember the words …”

“Love is all you need!” Liz and Serena shouted out in unison.

“Thank you,” Dar said. She waited for the laughter to die down before resuming the song.

We’d be saying love is all you need

And they could rag about me
Yeah, they could rag about me
Throw me to the velvet dogs of pop star history
But I won't be your Yoko Ono
If you're not good enough for me

No I won’t be your Yoko Ono
If you’re not good enough for me.

Oh, no, no, I won't be your Yoko Ono
If you're not good enough for me.

~*~*~*~*~

“I can’t believe that!” Alex exclaimed. “She forgot the words to her own song! She writes those songs, and she forgot the words! How is that even possible?”

“Hey, Alex, everyone has an off day. Besides, if she hadn’t forgotten the words, then we wouldn’t have been invited backstage, would we?” Liz was in heaven, ecstatic at the way the evening had worked out, and Serena was just as thrilled. They linked arms as they walked towards the train station.

“Uh, where are you guys going?” Alex asked. They’d walked several steps ahead of him, not noticing that they’d passed right by Alex’s car.

“Oh, we’ll just take the train back to the city, Alex, it’s no big deal,” Serena said.

“No, don’t be silly, I’ll drive you,” Alex said as he unlocked the driver’s side door.

“Oh, Alex,” Liz told him, “you really don’t have to. You’ve had a long day …”

“Come on, I have to drive back to the city anyway. Let me take you guys home.”

Seeing no reason to pass up a free ride, Liz and Serena thanked Alex and walked back towards the car.

“Na-huh, Liz,” Serena smiled as Liz reached for the passenger door, “only grown ups get to sit in the front seat.”

“Shut up.”

~*~*~*~*~

Maria couldn’t help but be rather astonished as she walked from her car to the office in King of Prussia on Saturday morning. Today would be three days since Max’s delivery. He’d gone through extreme pains to ensure that his gift wouldn’t be sold back anywhere, but Maria had been entertaining a suspicion that even his efforts wouldn’t be enough to stop someone as stubborn as this Elizabeth Parker. Apparently, though, she’d been wrong. Saturday’s mail was following the same pattern as Friday’s and Thursday’s – no velvet boxes, no threatening notes, no FedEx envelops that sounded as though they might contain broken fragments of what had once been a beautiful necklace. Maria was beginning to be disappointed.

Still, there was something in today’s batch of mail. A large but thin rectangular stationary envelop, the kind that looked as though it could contain a wedding invitation or something of the sort. It was postmarked from New York City with the acronym NAPW in the corner.

Opening it, Maria found a card thanking her for her donation in the amount of $2,000 to the National Advocacy for Pregnant Women, specifically to the funds for Amber Marlowe v. Pennsylvania.

As Maria pulled out her cell phone to call Max, she couldn’t help but laugh in admiration at this woman’s audacity. Her instincts from that very first box of eviscerated flowers were definitely spot-on. This Elizabeth Parker sure was something else.


~~~~
TBC
Song used is 'I Won't Be Your Yoko Ono' by Dar Williams

[LairaBehr4]

Hey guys,

True to form, it’s not yet dinnertime on the east coast, and here I am! Now go grab those leftovers and sit down for a good read (I hope).

My thanks to the following for their comments:

BehrObsession
Jamy21
Katydid
Queen Fee
Roswell3035 (x6)
Heavenli24
Candycane14 (x3)
LegalAlien
Lorastar (x10) – I heart you! And, hey! Look at that! You still come in at less comments than Ashley, who holds the marker at 17 posts. Scribbling Rivalry! Go!
Clueless (x6)
Smac
Anonymousarfan
Believer_evans
Sprayadhesive (x8)
Alien614
Alien_Friend (x3)
Paper
Martine
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Dreamerfrvrp3 (x4)
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RosyLady
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Dreamer<3
Erina
Maya
Michelle in Yonkers (x4)
Nicoletta
Thumbelina
Augustus Snodgrass
Morning Dreamgirl (x2)
Elci

I’ll try to come back again ASAP, but Norman’s in and out of a comatose state these days, so I can’t make any promises. But thank you all so much for your support and patience(?).




Eats, Shoots and Leaves:

Or,

Looking for a Prince in a World Full of Frogs

Chapter 15 – Surprise, Surprise

Another day, another necklace. Liz definitely wouldn't be awarding Max too many points for originality anytime soon. The man seemed to like his patterns when he found them.

She groaned as the now-familiar shadow of Dave the jewelry delivery guy passed over her desk. At least the flowers had been every other day. This jewelry thing had been going on for a week. But at least Liz could feel that she was doing a small part to help humanity. The two other necklaces from last week, which she'd managed to hide from Serena, had gone to the American Diabetes Association and the National Stroke Association. Monday's had gone to Act Up! and Tuesday's was donated to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. Every day was a different stone (rubies, emeralds, sapphires, pearls) and each one was a little fancier and more expensive than the previous day's.

Liz hated to admit it, she was finding it harder and harder to give them up. If it weren't for the spying eyes of her co-workers, she wasn't entirely sure she'd have made it this far. The plastic-like gossiping, gold-digging nitwits she was forced to work with seemed to grow six inches every time David came along with a new box. As soon as he left, the onslaught would begin, and they'd sidle up to her for the rest of the day in groups of three or more, trying to get a peek of today's offering and hoping for a clue as to who was sending such beautiful jewelry to the "flat-chested Liz Parker who thought she was better than everyone else." That particular quote was courtesy of Missy, who had whispered them not-so-quietly in the large kitchen yesterday to Jessie, both of them unaware that Liz had been in the connected supply room and able to overhear everything through the slightly open door. And as if that wasn't bad enough, the men who worked in the company – of varying ages and marital status, mind – had suddenly seemed to sit up and take notice of the feisty brunette, even though she'd worked there for more than three years, and interned with the company for two years before that. But with these mysterious and expensive gifts suddenly showing up, they all assumed that she must have some sort of sugar daddy, and if she was putting out for him, then maybe she would for them, too.

David smiled at her after handing over the delivery du jour, but his smile was short-lived as she dumped the gray velvet box into her bottom drawer and slammed it shut without skipping a beat. He'd known Max for years – his older brother had been a hell-raiser with Max back when they were younger – but he doubted Max knew exactly what he was dealing with in this girl. He might have to go back on his end of their bargain.

This was it. Liz's patience was at an end. She wasn't going to put up with the drama this man had wrought on her life for one more day. After getting permission from her boss, who had noticed the change in atmosphere in the office lately, she gathered her things together, including the mystery box, and left the office for the day.

~*~*~*~*~

"JOE!!"

Joe heard a thundering voice bellowing from the ground floor as he fiddled with the coffeemaker in his kitchen. He didn't answer, knowing the bellower would find him. Sure enough, seconds later footsteps could be heard stomping through the store and up the stairs. He sensed Max's livid presence in the doorway, trying to be threatening. True to his character, Joe played it cool.

“Hello, Maxwell. How was your trip?" he casually inquired.

"'Hello, Maxwell'? You fired me, Joe!" Max glared at his uncle, arms at his side, his fists clenched.

Mocking Max's voice and stance, Joe responded "You stole from me, Max!"

"I didn't steal money, or goods, or anything that would hurt your business," Max defended.

Joe wasn't buying it. "Wrong. You stole records, private records of a customer's private information, and then used that information to send unsolicited and unwelcome materials to her home. She'd be well within her rights to sue you. And me, too."

"You make it sound like I sent dead animals to her doorstep. I sent her flowers, Joe. What woman doesn't like flowers?"

"This one, apparently. But that's not the point. The point is that you betrayed the trust that my customers put in me, and that I put in you. I can't keep you employed if I can't trust you. This place is my home, and you'll always be welcome here. But you won't be making another sale or delivery until I can trust you again. I predict sometime in the 31st century." Joe pulled out two mugs and filled them with fresh coffee. "In the meantime, I don't want you to even step foot in the office or the shop unless there's someone with you. Got it?"

Joe's voice had started out at once light-hearted and teasing, yet honest, leading Max to believe that perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to earn back his uncle's trust again. But as Joe forbade him from the shop, everything from his tone to his face and body language hardened in a dangerous way which reminded Max that his uncle could probably kill him with that coffeepot. Even when he knew his back was against the wall and he was facing the firing squad, Max couldn't help but look for a loophole. "Just anyone?"

His nephew's flippancy made Joe want to reach over and kill him with the coffeepot. But throwing fits and losing tempers had always been his younger brother's way of dealing with frustration. While it wasn't Joe's style, at this moment he could completely understand the impulse. Not letting it show, Joe quickly cut off Max's route of escape. "No. I'm looking to hire someone part-time. And when I do, either that person or I will be with you anytime you're downstairs."

Max knew he'd messed up and that it wasn't going to be forgotten anytime soon. He nodded his acquiescent resignation to Joe's decision.

Wanting to get away from the unpleasant subject, Joe handed Max the second cup of coffee and said, "So tell me about the tour."

The two of them sat down in Joe's modest living room and Max filled him in on the band's activities for the last few weeks. As he spoke, Joe began to wonder if he'd done the right thing by Max in his life, especially given the current situation. Max was in the wrong, of that Joe had no doubt; but he wondered rather if there was anything more or less he should have done in the past that might have prevented this, or even now what more could have been done. Max was a grown man who still lived like a teenager in many ways. Joe suspected it was because, like himself, Max had a natural propensity for fun, which didn't go over well in Phillip's strict mindset. The clash of personalities had made Phillip into a stringent dictator who saw his son as little more than a rebellious screw-up. The stricter Phillip became, the more Max rebelled against him, taking pride in excelling in all the things Phillip hated. Even his success in the band gave Max a secret grin because he knew how much it pissed off his father. Joe had tried to provide a place where Max could come to, free of judgment, and until this latest incident, he'd never done anything that Joe had truly found disappointing. Max had held a penchant for trouble from a very young age – he drank, drove fast cars and motorcycles, fooled around with girls, and basically liked to raise hell. As a former hell-raiser himself, Joe understood it very well. On top of teaching him everything he knew about music and the industry, Joe had made sure that Max knew his limits with liquor, taught his nephew how to drive, kept him off drugs (something which Joe himself couldn't have claimed at Max's age), made sure he stayed in school and always used a condom. Joe was extremely proud of Max, both in his career and in his life.

Which was only partly why Joe was so pissed off. The two of them were very close, much more so than your typical uncle and nephew. Whereas Max's father had only lost his temper with his son, Joe had accepted Max for what he was and tried to guide him into the best possible version of himself that he could be. Until Liz had told him that Max had gotten her home address from this store, he'd honestly believed he'd done a good job.

For the first time in his life, Joe was disappointed and even a little ashamed of Max, and he didn't know how he was going to get past that. Especially not if the blame was truly his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria heard a pounding on the door to the office. She had been straightening up in anticipation of Isabel’s arrival. Max, she knew, would probably be off doing God knows what, and would resurface to check in sometime tomorrow. Isabel, though, liked to be involved, in control; and judging from the sound of that knock, she was pretty pissed about something.

Maria flung the door open. “What happ-?” She stopped mid-word, astonished to find only air where Isabel’s narrowed eyes and angry jaw should have been. Instead, about eight inches south of there, stood a petite brunette clutching a gray velvet box and looking ready to murder someone.

“I’m looking for Max,” she seethed.

“He’s not here right now,” Maria answered honestly, a little flustered.
Liz shoved the velvet box into Maria’s chest, using her strength to back Maria into the office. “YOU need to TELL him,” she accentuated every few words with a finger pointing into Maria’s shoulder – not enough to hurt her, but enough to let her know that she meant business, “to STOP sending me these DAMN necklaces at my OFFICE. I need to WORK there, and my colleagues and my bosses need to RESPECT me, and they can’t do that if they see me getting fancy jewelry delivered on my salary! I DON’T WANT THEM!”

Recognition dawned over Maria. This was the girl! This was Elizabeth Parker! And she was every bit as tough and feisty as Maria had hoped she’d be. She smiled at this woman, the first she’d ever known who had resisted Max’s charm.

“This isn’t funny!” Liz nearly screamed. One thing she hated more than anything else was when people didn’t take her seriously. She knew that she must look rather ridiculous, throwing a temper as this other woman who towered over her, but she certainly didn’t think it was amusing.
“No, no, I know it’s not,” Maria tried to explain, but failed against Liz’s tirade.

“I know he’s been out of town. All the stuff that’s been sent to me has THIS place as the return address. So that means YOU’VE been sending it while he’s gone, haven’t you?”

Maria definitely didn’t see the humor in anything about Liz now that her anger had turned.

“Look, since you seem to be catering to his every whim, do me a favor – make sure he and his friends from the jewelry circuit and all the delivery men who are apparently on his payroll stay far, far away from me! I’m SICK of it! And if I ever get another package from here again, you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of a restraining order! So BACK OFF!”
Before Maria even knew what had happened, the great force known as Elizabeth Parker had flown out the door, the resounding slam of the door and the subsequent whoosh of papers flying around serving as the only sign that she’d been in there at all.

Maria let out a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. When conscious thought returned, Maria could only think that she’d have to resign the title of ‘Hurricane’.

~*~*~*~*~

Liz marched – no, practically flew to her car in the lot outside, barely noticing the wind that chilled the air. It was only when she reached the car that she’d borrowed from Alex that her temper began to ebb slightly, and realized that, for a guy who wore torn jeans and dirty T-shirts, that looked like a really nice office in there.

Was there something she was missing here?

~*~*~*~*~

Ahh, Thursday. A blessed, blessed day. Known in some circles as the first day in a week that David the Delivery Guy’s shadow hadn’t come near her or her desk all day. Liz wanted to do a happy dance, but knew she had to at least wait until after Peter and Serena left for Boston before she could indulge in the impulse. And with the way Serena packed, that could be a while in coming.

Liz handed Pete two bottled waters for them to take on the train. “Okay,” Serena called as she dragged a rather large suitcase down the hall into the living room, a laptop case hanging over her shoulder, a purse clutched in her spare hand. “I’m ready!”

Liz raised her eyebrows at the sight, and then sarcastically asked, “Have you forgotten anything?”

Serena eyed the items in her arms before dropping them all with an excited, “Oh! My cosmetics bag!” and running back into her room, leaving Pete and Liz to exchange laughing smiles in her wake.

Seeing an opening, Liz asked as casually as she could manage, “Hey, Pete, um, have you ever heard of a local musician called Max Evans?”
Pete looked at her as though she’d sprouted a new head. “What?” she asked defensively.

“Are you KIDDING?!” he asked incredulously.

“Is that a trick question?”

Pete shook his head, turned around and reached down into his backpack. When he stood up and faced Liz again, he was holding out in his hand for her a copy of ‘Rolling Stone’. She looked at the band on the cover for a few seconds. Then suddenly her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. The resemblance was amazing and entirely unmistakable, though Liz would never again underestimate the healing powers of a bath and shave for the man in the center, flanked by two similarly good-looking men and one glamorous-looking blonde woman. True to his word, the rude, offensive, grungy, porno-making, borderline-stalker Evil Stranger Max was indeed in a band. A band called Infiltration. A band called Infiltration that was on the cover of ‘Rolling Stone’.

Liz wasn’t entirely certain that she’d managed to pick her jaw up off the floor before Serena and Pete flew out the door, the latter telling her that she could keep the magazine and he’d pick up another copy at the train station. Before she knew it, she was alone in the apartment for the week. Shock was the only thing that registered. The happy dance couldn’t have been further from her mind.


~~~~
TBC

[LairaBehr4]

Hey guys,

Sorry this took so long - but hey, right in time for Christmas/end of Hannukah! That's got to count for something, right?

Eternal thanks to Spray, as well as to all my readers and feedbackers. I love you guys!


Eats, Shoots and Leaves;

Or,

Looking for a Prince in a World Full of Frogs

Chapter 16 – Bumping Into the Weirdest Folks

On every first Friday of the month, the art galleries of Philadelphia’s Old City put out tables of wine and hors d’oeuvres, forego their usual cover charge, and open their doors to the public, inviting them to come and experience all that the Philadelphia art scene has to offer. The evening, called First Friday by Philadelphians, is popular with residents, workers, and college students. Liz and Serena had first started going during their freshman year. Now with Serena gone and the weather still pleasant in the first weekend of October, Liz donned her brown leather coat and made her way to the bus stop to join in the fun of First Friday.

As soon as she got onto the street, she breathed deeply, feeling a bit of a release. The apartment was getting too small for both her and that Rolling Stone article. Liz had read the whole thing several times over, and had even been surprised to find that she recognized some of the song titles from the last few years. Some of them had gotten a ton of radio play, but Liz had never paid too much attention to music, so it wasn’t surprising that she hadn’t recognized him straight away. Still, this whole thing was rather strange, and she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. It did explain a few things about Evil Stranger, though. Like the propositioning, for example; he was probably not used to actually having to ask a woman to go to bed with him. The article hinted at a relationship between him and Pam Troy, who was pictured with him in New York at the start of the band’s recent small tour. But why, if they were dating, was he coming on to her at the store and at her apartment?

Not that she was even interested at all. The guy had basically taken one look at her, and everything that came out of his mouth after that was a crude invitation for a roll in the sack. That might be all well and good for him, but Liz was looking for something more than that, and she didn’t like wasting her time.

Still … he was cute. For a creepy, rude, narcissistic, stalker, rock-star guy.

Liz shook her head, forcing those thoughts out of her head. Evil Narcissistic Creepy Rocker guy was not cute! And that kind of thinking would get her nowhere.

The art scene must be getting to her. She walked out of the Clay Studio and headed towards the theater district. Michael was working tonight, and a stiff drink might be just what she needed.

~*~*~*~

The air took a sudden turn for the worse. The wind kicked up, and the temperature fell nearly 20 degrees. Liz clutched her jacket to her body as she waited at the corner for the pedestrian light to change. She couldn’t wait to get indoors, where it was warm and toasty and …

Green! The light was green. Yay. Liz stepped down into the street and walked along with the other unlucky pedestrians. She was nearly at the other corner when …

“’Scuse me!” someone grunted as she brushed between the crowds. She hit Liz’s shoulder with such force as she passed that, not for the first time in this story, our heroine was knocked to the ground. She managed to put her hands out to brace the fall, but it was a rather nasty tumble nonetheless.

“Oh my God!” came a scream from above her.

Well, at least the woman who knocked her over had enough courtesy to stop and help her up again.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Oh my God, I just can’t believe I did that, I really didn’t mean to --” whatever the woman was going to say next was lost, for as Liz pushed herself off the ground and the woman caught her arm to help her, they looked at each other properly for the first time, and the recognition was instant. Rude, Pushy Woman was the same blonde woman Liz had yelled at on Wednesday.

Uh oh. Awkward.

A car’s loud honk as it tried to turn the corner made them scramble for the sidewalk. Once there, the blonde took Liz’s elbow gently and asked her again, “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m really sorry, I just wanted to get out of the cold. I can’t believe I did that. I’m so embarrassed.”

Liz studied her as she talked, something she’d been a little too enraged to do the last time they’d met. Medium height, lithe frame, long wavy blonde hair under a teal beret that brought out the color in her eyes, and a certain curve of her lip, even in the quiet cold, that told Liz she really ought to have been smarter than to work for such a jerk. And, judging by the words spilling out of her mouth, she probably didn’t usually suffer from the kind of speechlessness that had struck her on Wednesday.

After getting no reaction, Maria asked, “Are you going to yell at me again? Because, if so, let’s go inside, I’m freezing out here.”

Liz laughed out loud. This woman was funny to boot. “No, no, I’m not going to yell. Look, I’m really sorry about the other day. I was angry and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have.”

“I honestly don’t care about that right now, I just want to get someplace warm!” exclaimed Maria as she animatedly jumped up and down.

“I’m going to a bar where my cousin works a few blocks from here. They have a fireplace. You’re welcome to come. I’ll even pay since I owe you for yelling in your face and all.”

Maria gave her a strange look. “Your cousin makes you pay?”

“No, that’s how I can afford it.”

Now it was Maria who laughed. “Sure, as long as it’s warm in there.”

As they walked towards the bar, Liz took the opportunity again to say, “I want to apologize again for the other day. I was out of line with you. Your boss, on the other hand …” She purposely didn’t mention that she knew who he was, figuring it was probably better to be discreet. After all, he hadn’t told her, and neither had Maria. Better to just wait until one of them brought it up.

“Yeah, he gets carried away sometimes,” Maria responded.

“It was just … first the flowers, then the jewelry … having that stuff delivered to my home was bad enough, but to my office? I mean, I have to work with those people, you know?” Liz explained. “It just … it doesn’t make things very pleasant for me to have things like that sent to my office.”

“I get it,” Maria answered, “and I get that it was bad, but I was just doing my job.”

“I know you were,” said Liz.

“By the way, my name’s Maria.”

“Liz Parker.”

“I know.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Considering their rocky introduction, the walk passed very pleasantly. By the time they arrived at the bar, Maria had Liz in hysterics, telling stories about growing up with her mother and grandmother, the latter of whom had a special love of running around the kitchen yelling things in Italian and swatting the air with a wooden spoon.

Two seats were open at the bar, and Liz and Maria headed straight for them. Michael was at the other side, a towel over his shoulder, serving drinks to some UPenn co-eds celebrating a 21st birthday. “Whiplash” by Metallica was playing from the jukebox.

“Chica,” Maria said in a hushed voice, “is that your cousin over there?”

“Yeah, that’s Michael.”

“Da-yum! He’s cute!”

Liz shrugged. “Hard to think of him as cute when you’ve seen him get pantsed in the second grade.”

“He looks to me as though he could take on anyone who tried,” Maria answered.

They stopped talking as Michael approached them. He nodded and gave Liz his usual greeting reserved for when she would come here. “The bar is for paying customers only.”

“Good think I know the help, then,” smiled Liz. “Michael, this is Maria, and since I owed her a drink for being a first-class bitch, I brought her here, to the best martinis in town.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’ll get me free martinis.”

Michael shook his head and turned his attention instead to his cousin’s beautiful friend. “Hey. I’m Michael.”

“Maria,” she smiled. “So, do you really make the best martinis in town?” she asked flirtatiously.

“You know it.”

“Really?”

“Tell you what, Maria, why don’t you let me make one for you, and then you can be the judge.”

When he said her name, Maria got little tingles down her neck. “Okay, but I should warn you, I’m veeery tough to please.”

“I think I can take it,” Michael responded. He was used to being flirted with in his position, but it was pretty rare that he wanted to flirt back.

“What do I get if I don’t like the martini?”

“A free martini.”

“But if I don’t even like it, that hardly seems like a good deal, now, don’t you think?”

“Hmm, good point. Tell you what – if you don’t like my martini, I’ll make you whatever you want. On me.”

“Good deal,” Maria smiled, pleased.

“Now, what do I get if you do like the martini?”

“What do you want?” Maria countered suggestively.

Michael leaned over the bar close to Maria’s ear and said, “I get to walk you home.”

Maria pulled back and smiled again, wider this time. “Deal.”

Looking pleased with the terms, Michael stood up straight again. “Be right back with your drinks.”

Liz couldn’t believe it. Michael didn’t usually say so many words to her in a week. She’d never seen him warm up so quickly to a person, and, judging by the differences in their personalities, she hadn’t expected Michael and Maria to hit it off so well, so quickly. It might be interesting to see how long that lasted.

A minute later, Michael came back with two martinis in hand – gin for Maria, vodka for Liz. The two cousins held their breaths in anticipation as Maria took a sip.

“Oooh, wow … this is really good! I thought you were just boasting.”

“Just remember your end of the bargain, Blondie. I get off at one.”

The two shared a smile before Michael returned to the other people trying to get his attention.

“Well,” said Maria, “if we’re going to be staying here for another few hours, we definitely need a music change.” She purposefully dug around in her purse and, after a few concealed movements with her hands, she came out with at least three dollars in quarters. “Any requests?”

Liz worked hard to suppress her smile. This would be good. “Nope,” she said.

“’Kay.” Maria hopped off the barstool and went over to the jukebox. She inserted her treasure and spent several moments making her selection. Then she resumed her seat.

Liz didn’t have to wait long for the entertainment to begin. The song had changed to Green Day’s ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’ while Michael was serving them martinis, and as soon as that song ended, the opening chords to Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Beautiful Disaster’ came on.

“Oooh, NOOOO! Who put this crap on?” Michael yelled.

“Hey!” Maria shouted back, getting his attention. “At least you can hear what she’s saying!”

“I’m not listening to this bubble-gum crap while I’m working!”

“Well, since I paid for this song, and the seven more after it, I guess you don’t have a choice.”

Liz sat back and watched as the two of them started to argue with as much fire and spark as when they’d been flirting over drinks just a few minutes ago. Who would have thought?

~*~*~*~*

Max stepped outside and lit a cigarette. The late night – or was it early morning now? – air in winter chilled his skin, but it was a welcome change from the club, which definitely seemed a bit stuffy. Pam was hanging all over him; but that wasn't really anything new. Of course, the minute she excused herself to go powder her nose, every female occupant of the club swarmed over to take her place. And when he finally managed to extricate himself from their attentions for a desperately-needed smoke, he spotted Pam and some guy going at it against the wall near the ladies'.

Max didn't mind – after all, he wasn't exactly the picture of fidelity, so far be it from him to hold her up to such a standard. Some guys, like Kyle or Ben, would have been outraged if their girlfriends were caught like that, but then, they both cared about the woman they dated. Kyle and Tess had been together practically ever since the band formed, and they were the best example Max knew of what love could and maybe should be like. Ben had dated his share of women, but it never worked out. He always took break-ups pretty hard; Max suspected it was because he was really looking for someone that he might be able to spend his life with, instead of someone to just pass the time with. Pam definitely fell into the latter category for Max. She was pretty and a good lay and understood the demands of the road and was willing to put up with them. They weren't going to walk into the sunset to a happily ever after. They both knew it, and they knew the other one knew it, too. They were just enjoying what the other had to offer until something better came along. If it did, that is.

The thing was, though, Max was getting a little … discomfited. Disquieted. Nervous, maybe. But no, Max was never nervous. That couldn’t be it. But he was beginning to think that maybe something better would never come along. Maybe this was as good as it got, at least for him. He didn’t want to get married – an involuntary shudder ran through him just at the thought of that word – but a part of him craved something more than what he had with Pam, and maybe always had. But after spending almost half his life on the dating circuit, he was starting to wonder if it was just a pipe dream. Max took the cigarette between his fingers and let out a shaky breath as he thought about his uncle. Joe was over sixty and had never found a love that lasted. The two of them were so much alike … maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for him, either.

A sudden laugh drew Max’s attention across the street. Three figures were walking from down the block towards Center City – two women with a tall, athletic man walking between them. The shorter woman was closest to the street, and Max had the best view of her. She had long, dark hair that caught the lights from the streetlamps and seemed to glow. She and the man were walking in a practiced rhythm, and the air around them screamed of a closeness that the third member of their party was clearly not familiar with. The brunette was laughing loudly, which apparently the other two didn’t appreciate. But who could care when she was making the most beautiful sounds with her laughter …

Hey, wait a second – wasn’t that the chick from the store? The one Joe fired him for because he sent her flowers? That was just ridiculous. Wasn’t sending flowers one of the good things to do? Max knew he’d be the last choice among men to write a Perfect Boyfriend’s Manual, but surely there’d be something in said manual about sending flowers, right?

Wait, did he just use the word boyfriend?

Before he could ponder that particular choice of words, Max received another shock as he recognized a second figure in the trio. That was Maria! Maria Deluca, his personal assistant, was walking down the street at one-thirty in the morning with the girl that got him fired from Joe’s store. Was there no such thing as loyalty anymore? How did those two even know each other, anyway?

And who was that guy walking with them?

~*~*~*~*~

Max didn’t even bother going to sleep that night, since Isabel wanted to go over details from their tour and upcoming plans at the Philadelphia office at eight-thirty that morning. He didn’t think sleep would have come even if he’d tried anyway. Try as he did, he couldn’t get the image of Liz and that guy out of his head. Were they friends? More than friends? Were they dating? That would explain why she didn’t want him sending her flowers. He vaguely recalled asking if she had a boyfriend, but he couldn’t seem to remember what her answer had been. Still, he’d been under the impression that she didn’t have one. So who was that guy?!

“Good morning, brother mine,” Isabel greeted as she walked into the room. Though the words were personal and teasing, they were spoken with the utmost professionalism. She walked through the door with a carrier crate of Starbucks coffee and a box of Krispy Kreme donuts.

“Grrrr,” was Max’s response. He wondered if it was possible to literally sink into the couch.

“Hung over?” she asked as she placed her items onto the table. The glare he shot her was more than enough of an answer. “You look like shit. What happened to you?”

“Nothin’.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“Back off, Iz.”

“Hey, I’m just saying …”

“Shut up, Isabel!” Max yelled, then groaned with the headache caused by the loudness of his own voice.

Isabel’s professional exterior was in danger of shattering for a moment. While she and Max didn’t always get along, they were never mean without reason. She knew that whatever was eating him today wasn’t about her at all, but that didn’t make it easier.

Max saw the crack in her façade and banged his head against the coffee table. “Aw, fuck.” He stood up – veeeeery slowly – and went to stand next to her. “I’m sorry, Iz. I’m scum. I’m pond scum. I’m the stuff that pond scum shits on. I … I’m just sorry.”

Isabel slowly turned her head towards her brother. He actually looked … rather miserable. “S’okay.” He nodded slowly in acknowledgment of their truce. “You okay?” Isabel asked, genuinely worried. He looked pretty awful.

Max shrugged. “Rough night.”

“I thought you spent last night with Pam?” Isabel asked.

“Yeah,” Max muttered.

“Something happen with Pam?”

“No,” Max said in a tone that was not rude, but made it clear he didn’t want the conversation to continue.

Giving up, Isabel instead went to the cabinet and got out a couple of aspirin. She handed them to Max along with a cup of coffee. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Isabel.” Max dutifully popped the pills in his mouth. Just as he lifted the coffee to his lips, the front door to the office opened and closed again with a sudden ‘bang!’.

Max and Isabel shared a look. “Maria’s here,” they said simultaneously.

“Morning, all. Ooh, coffee!” Maria exclaimed as she came in. She helped herself to a cup of the Starbucks and to a donut.

“Oh, by the way, Max,” she said between bites and swallows, “you’re a jerk.”

“What?” Max was beginning to get annoyed again.

“All that stuff you sent to that girl. I can’t believe I let you drag me into that! That’s the last time I do anything just because someone’s paying me.” Maria realized that Max and Isabel were staring at her. “Oh, you know what I meant.”

“Why is everyone so upset about that? I sent her flowers and jewelry! It’s not like I mailed her locks of my hair or boiled rabbits on her stove.”

“But she didn’t want them!”

“Oh, God, Maria, my head hurts too much for this conversation. And I knew that was you with her last night!”

Now it was Max’s turn to be stared at. “What do you mean, last night?” Maria advanced on him. “How do you know I was hanging out with her last night? Were you following her? Were you following me? ‘Cause that’s just beyond creepy, Max. What I do and who I hang out with on MY time is MY business!”

“Max, you didn’t …?” Isabel ventured.

“NO, I wasn’t following her! Or you! I was standing outside a club having a cigarette and I saw you guys walking.” Max wanted to ask her who the man was with them, but judging by his day so far, it would probably be safer to wait on that one. “Damn, I … my head hurts too much to deal with this shit right now. I’m out of here.” Max got out of the office as fast as his feet would carry him and slammed the door behind him, again causing a wince and an increased pain in his head at the noise produced by his action.

Back in the break room, Isabel sighed. “I think that meeting went very well, don’t you?

~*~*~*~*~

It was another beautiful autumn day, and Liz was in heaven. She loved the fall; in fact, she loved all the seasons that the East Coast had to offer. Roswell had only three discernable seasons; chilly, hot and hotter. The leaves changed overnight and the surrounding environment was more likely to be brown, dried out from the desert heat, than green. The gradual changes, the distinct colors and smells that accompanied each of nature’s gowns, made Liz feel that she, as a citizen of the planet, was a part of something special.

And for some strange reason, whenever Liz started to feel lately as though she were special, she thought of Joe.

And so on this beautiful morning (well, nearly afternoon), Liz took the familiar route to South Street with every intention of visiting Joe and gawking over her desk some more. Okay, it wasn’t really her desk … yet. And she definitely had a long way to go before she could even think of buying it. But Liz couldn’t help but hope, and though she was fairly certain Joe wouldn’t sell it knowing how much she wanted it, she still couldn’t help but fear that one day she’d turn the corner to the shop and see an empty space where her desk had once been. Even as she approached the store, she peered ahead to check and make sure that the desk was still there. She let out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding and skipped up the stairs to the front door.

The overhead bell rang as Liz pushed in the door. She looked around expectantly, hoping for Joe’s welcoming grin, but instead saw Max sitting in the back corner near the door to the kitchen. His feet were up on the desk where the cash box was kept.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said, no trace of his trademark grin anywhere.

“Hello to you, too,” Liz retorted. “Joe here?”

“He’s getting coffee.”

What was up with him today? He looked completely different from the last two times she’d seen him. He was sullen and grumpy, and if those bags under his eyes were any indication, he hadn’t slept for a long time. The Rolling Stone photographer must be a miracle worker, she thought.

A soft pressure along her leg took her attention away, as Liz’s favorite creature on four legs chose to make his presence known. “Hey, Paul!” Liz bent down to pet the cat, who purred in response.

Max grunted. She certainly was free enough about showering attention on mangy flea-ridden animals.

“So what have you got against flowers?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“Flowers. I sent you flowers. You turned them into potpourri.”

“Oh, yeah,” Liz giggled when she remembered how she and Serena had enjoyed tearing the flowers to shreds.

“So? What have you got against flowers?” Max repeated.

“Nothing. I like getting flowers from people I like. People I actually give out my address to. You just …,” Liz was about to say that he just thought she’d cave because he was a rock star, but she didn’t want him to know yet. She’d wait until either he or Joe chose to tell her, though she suspected the latter was more likely. “You just wanted to prove something about me with those flowers. That I’d cave in and sleep with you just because you shelled out forty bucks for some roses and lilies.”

“Shows what you know. I don’t usually have to buy a girl flowers to get her interest.” What the hell was he saying? He knew a statement like that was more likely to piss her off than it was to change her mind. Shut up, mouth! Shut up!

“Yes, I’ll bet most girls just swoon for the I-didn’t-shower-this-morning look.” Liz delivered her line perfectly, and went back to petting the cat.

Max looked away, suddenly finding the shape his feet made on the desk to be very interesting.

“Hello, sweetheart! I thought I heard your voice. He’s not giving you any trouble, is he?” Joe walked in from the hallway.

Max had had enough. Apparently leaving his apartment this morning was just a bad idea. He stood up. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later, Joe.” Without another word he picked up his leather jacket from the floor and walked out the door.

He ground his teeth together the entire way to his apartment building. What was up with everybody today? When did everyone get together and decide that he was such a loser? He didn’t think he was doing so badly. He had a good job that didn’t even seem like a job, one most people would kill to have. He had fans and music and good friends and Pam Troy in his bed and …

Oh, shit. Pam was probably still at his apartment. Fuck! What was he going to do? He really didn’t want to put up with her right now.

Making a split decision, Max walked into his building, careful to keep his head down. Instead of taking the elevators up, he walked through the door to the stairs and sprinted down to the parking lot. He gave Jose a quick wave, but didn’t linger to talk. Instead, he hopped into his Jaguar and left the lot, winding his way expertly out of the city and into the suburbs. Maybe some time held up at his house out in Edgemont would help cool things off.


~~~
TBC

[LairaBehr4]

Hi guys,

Well, here I (finally) am! Thank you all for sticking with me, and especially to the following for their comments and support:

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Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.


Eats, Shoots & Leaves;

Or,

Looking for a Prince in a World Full of Frogs

Chapter Seventeen – War and Peace, Peace and War

Max had gone to his suburban home intending to stay only a few hours. He just wanted the rest of the world to get back its sanity. But once he was there, he found himself in no hurry to leave it again. He’d gone into his soundproof basement, picked up one of his guitars, and just started playing. He played songs he’d written when he was only 13, songs he’d grown up listening to, songs Joe had taught him, songs he’d written with Ben.

What was meant to be a quick trip to the privacy of his suburban home turned into more than two weeks. Pam called his cell phone again and again when he didn’t come back to the apartment, but he blew her off. Finally, when she’d had enough of waiting for him, she took off again. From the confines of his basement, Max didn’t even know she’d gone.

Isabel was not so easily turned away. She left messages on his cell and called his home line so much that the answering machine was entirely filled with messages from her. Even Maria didn’t know where he’d gone. Max had effectively shut himself off from the rest of the world.

The combination of angst and solitude did wonders for his writing, though. He spent hours at a time in the basement, a large open room with hard wood floors. There were numerous cushions on the floor in front of a soft couch against the wall by the stairs with a table on one side. This couch faced a large, flat-screen TV. To one side there was a three-foot tall fridge stocked with alcohol, water, soda, and a few other things. Beside it stood a food cabinet of the same size. A full bathroom hid behind a door near the couch, a closet behind another by the television. The opposite side of the room was devoted to music, with the exception of a few La-Z-Boy chairs and simple wooden chairs without armrests. One wall had all of Max’s guitars – some hanging from the wall, some in racks on the floor, some in their cases. There were acoustic guitars, electric guitars, electric bass guitars, six-strings, twelve-strings. Even one of Ben’s shamisens was lying in a corner, forgotten from a previous visit. There was a grand piano and a digital piano, a set of drums, and a saxophone (again, one of Ben’s). Amps and wires littered the ground. In another corner was some amateur recording equipment. There was no telephone in the room, not even a cable connection. This room was the embodiment of Max’s solitary confinement, and he piled up sheets and sheets of music for new songs.

Max was sitting on one of the sofa chairs fiddling with some chords, writing down words as they came to him, when he heard a rumbling noise above him. It was a footstep, one, followed by another, and another. They were confident and of medium tempo, making their way about a familiar house. By the time they could be heard coming down the stairs into the basement, Max had a pretty good idea of who it was.

Joe stopped when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He took a deep breath as he and Max looked at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Finally, Joe said, “So this is what a hermit habitat looks like.”

“How did you get in?” Max asked.

Joe lifted a shiny jingling object in his hand. “Your spare keys.” He set them onto a coffee table and started walking towards Max. “You left ‘em at the store. They have my place, your apartment, and the back door on ‘em. Very handy.”

Max just went back to tuning the guitar in his arms, trying to reach a different key. Joe took a few steps closer into the room and listened as Max fiddled with the chords. After he’d gotten it exactly right, Joe spoke again. “Your sister’s really worried about you, you know. Stopped by my place a few times.”

Max groaned. “She ought to let up. I’ve only been here a few days.”

“Try two weeks.”

“What?!” Max exclaimed.

“You stormed out of the store fifteen days ago, Max. It’s Sunday. We’re half way through October. Nobody’s seen you since the third. Now, I don’t mind. I’ve done it myself. It’s good for you sometimes. But your sister’s freaking out, and she’s even got your moms calling me trying to figure out where you’re at. So next time you want to pull a disappearing act, do a favor for your uncle who’s too old for all this drama and leave a note first.

“Didn’t think you cared so much,” Max grumbled under his breath.

Joe heard him regardless. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Max sighed.

“Damn straight, boyo.” Joe’s words were low and clipped, a clear sign of how angry he was at Max’s comment.

“I didn’t mean it, Uncle Joe. I’m sorry.”

Joe didn’t say anything right away, but he pulled up one of the chairs and dragged it closer to Max’s. Then he picked up one of the guitars leaning against the wall and fit it into his arms with ease. He used his head to motion to the pile of sheet music and lyrics that had accumulated next to Max. “Got anything good in there?”

“Yeah, actually … I think so. What do you think of …” Max sifted through the papers, pulled out a chord chart and handed it over to Joe, who began to play. For a moment Max was lost in just listening to his uncle, like he’d done for hours on end as a kid, long before he’d ever learned to play a guitar himself. When he heard Joe start on the second round of the chorus, Max joined him, this time singing the words he’d written for the song.

Drop the coin and pull the lever,
Am I the jackpot winner?
Tell the dealer to hit me again.
Mind trick in Catch-22,
Do you like me the way I like you?
If it doesn't work out in the end
I'll just pretend.

Love's game
Starts with a glance in your direction
And then,
Obtaining facts you didn't know I was asking
That's when
I decided we should be together.
So what if you didn't know
We'd end up happy ever after
In my head?

Looked up
As your wanting eyes caught my attention
And I knew
That I could be the topic of your conversation,
Not sure,
Is it me? Am I your heart's desire?
Or in the way of another's eyes
You tried to capture
Instead?

Drop the coin and pull the lever,
Am I the jackpot winner?
Tell the dealer to hit me again
Mind trick in catch 22,
Do you like me the way that I like you,
If it doesn't work out in the end
I'll just pretend like this didn't happen.

Woke up,
To the tap on the shoulder of reality
Saying, "Face it kid,
Good looks aren't all they are cracked up to be",
And next time I'll get up enough nerve
To just say hello
And just be satisfied with the fact,
That I let you know,
You're not that easy to let go!

Drop the coin and pull the lever,
Am I the jackpot winner?
Tell the dealer to hit me again
Mind trick in catch 22,
Do you like me, ‘cause I sure as hell like you
If it doesn't work out in the end
I'll just pretend like this didn't happen.

Love's game
Started with a glance in your direction
And then obtaining facts I wish not to mention,
Not sure
Was it me was I your heart's desire
Or in the way of another's eyes you tried to capture.

Drop the coin and pull the lever
Am I the jackpot winner?
Tell the dealer to hit me again,
And I'll just pretend like this didn't happen.


“You’re right,” Joe said when they’d finished playing. “That’s pretty good. You guys oughtta be able to make a good single out of it.”

“Eh, I don’t know,” Max said. “I might just save it for a while. Not sure it’s ready for the studio.”

“Why not? It’s a great song.”

“I just don’t want to put it on an album yet.”

“Okay,” Joe acquiesced. Then, because the question needed to be asked, he said, “So is the song about anyone in particular?”

Max made a dodge for the chord chart and started making some slight adjustments. “Not really.”

“Oh. Okay, then.” After a few more minutes of some tweaking on paper and trying out some new chords, Joe said something else. “It was a little strange for you to walk out of the store like that. Anything the matter?”

“No.” Now it was Max’s turn to start getting pissed off. Like his uncle, the word was short, succinct, and low, betraying his emotion.

“I was worried that maybe the girl had said something to offend you.”

Max took a deep breath and tried to be calm. “Joe, you’ve sided with her on everything I’ve disagreed with her about.”

“If you mean the deliveries thing, that wasn’t about sides, Max. She was my client, my customer; you were my employee.”

“Employee! I haven’t cashed a check from you since I was fifteen.”

“Not the point and you know it. I love having you in the store, Max, but it’s not a game or a part-time thing for me. I put my towel in for the music decades ago. That’s your thing now. The store is my life, my home. You stole from it.”

“I’ve apologized for that,” Max said. He had, and sincerely done so.

“Did you try apologizing to her?”

Max guffawed. “For sending a girl flowers? And jewelry? Are you kidding me?”

“Hey,” Joe said, “I didn’t say it was what you’d usually do. But you did invade her privacy, and embarrassed her in her place of work. Now I get that you were on tour and not really thinking about what those things might mean for her at all, and quite frankly, that’s the root of your whole problem with her. Most girls you know are so happy to get a crumb of bread from you; they’ll let you walk all over them. I’ve told you before, this girl’s different. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

“I don’t even like her,” Max muttered.

“Then who’d you write the song about?” Max dropped his pencil and gaped up at his uncle. “I thought so. Why can’t you just say the words ‘I like her’? You’ve never had a problem admitting when you’ve liked girls before.”

“I don’t know.”

“Allow me to enlighten you. All the girls you’ve liked before, you’ve really only been interested in getting them into bed. Nothing wrong with that – you’ve never led any girl on or told her what she wanted to hear in order to get what you wanted from her, at least not as far as I know. But as I said before, this girl’s different. And somewhere in that thick skull of yours, you know it. And that terrifies you.”

Max was quiet; for a long time, the only sounds in the room was the strumming from the two guitars. Finally, he said, “How’d you get so damn smart?”

Joe chuckled. “You’re not the first stupid musician to blow it with the right girl. In fact, you’re just the latest in a long line.”

This was the most candid about his own love affairs that Joe had ever been with Max, and it threw him for a loop. He didn’t quite know what to say.

The task of trying to think of something was spared him when Joe stood the guitar against his chair and stood up. “I’d better go if I’m going to open up the shop on time. Take care, and please, for the love of Christ, drop your sister a line in the next day or two.”

“I will,” Max promised.

“I left the store keys on there,” Joe said, indicating to the keys he’d brought in earlier. “Come by when you’re ready.”

The sentiment was implicit: Max was forgiven. “Thanks, Joe.”

“Anytime. See ya.”

With that, Joe turned and walked back up the stairs, leaving Max to his muse and his solitude.


~*~*~*~*~
Continued in the next post due to length
Song used is ‘Drop The Coin’ by Eric Himan

[LairaBehr4]

~*~*~*~

“Joe!”

Joe tried not to roll his eyes as the unmistakable voice of his niece carried all the way to the second floor of the building, where his apartment was set up. The door slammed angrily behind her, causing the bells to jingle with a start. She stomped her way up to him. Apparently, he thought, this sort of entrance was a bit of a family trait.

“Joe,” Isabel clipped as she walked through the open door into his living room. He was standing in one corner, where he had a small work bench set up and was currently busying himself repairing his toaster. “Where exactly is my brother?”

Joe shrugged and looked back down at his toaster. “At his house in Edgemont.”

“I went there. He didn’t answer.”

“He probably didn’t hear you. He’s been hanging out in the basement. Doing some writing. He’ll have a whole album to record by the time you see him again.”

“I want to see him now. Why won’t he answer my phone calls?”

“He doesn’t know you called.”

Isabel was growing impatient. “Will you tell him?”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“Because he doesn’t need to know right now,” Joe looked up at her. “You guys don’t leave for your tour for another month. He’ll come out when he’s good and ready.”

“I’m not just his manager, Joe, I’m his sister. His twin sister. And I want to talk to my brother. You can’t keep him from me!”

“I’m not keeping him from you. He’s in a mood and he’s doing what he can to get through it.”

“But--”

“Leave it alone, Isabel.”

Isabel took a deep breath in and tried to give off the air of one who was admitting defeat. As she did so, she looked around until she found the ceramic wall ornament along one wall. This ornament showed three flower pots with white daisies sprouting from them. It was perhaps only twelve inches long, only six inches high. It has perhaps the only feminine touch in the entire apartment, and it had been there for as long as Isabel could remember, though she never knew where it had come from. Underneath each pot was a small wire hook, and in between was a thick ceramic hook. The thicker hooks held Joe’s coats, one a thick black leather jacket, well worn for the last 20 years, and the other was a man’s wool coat with a beige hat and green scarf. During the summer, the leather coat was exchanged for a denim one, and the second hook remained empty. The three smaller hooks held keys – one set to the shop and the pick-up truck that he used for deliveries, one to the apartment and his other car, and the third one … was empty.

“Don’t even think about it,” Joe said, knowing exactly what was going through his niece’s devious mind. “I already left ‘em at his place.”

Isabel fumed at being at once both discovered and thwarted. “Why are you trying to keep him from me?! You’ve seen him! I want to see him, too!”

“We can’t have everything we want, Isabel Louise. And I’m not keeping him from you. He’s keeping himself from everyone. He’s trying to sort some things out between him and a girl, and he’s not going to be able to do that around everyone else right now. Leave him alone.”

“You mean Pam? I don’t think he cares that much about her. Not to shut himself away like this. And besides that, I don’t think she’s left him in much doubt of her opinions,” Isabel snorted, “if she has any.”

“I didn’t say Pam,” Joe answered illusively.

His response marked a change in Isabel. “Not Pam? But then, who? He’s not seeing anyone else.”

“Leave it alone, Isabel.”

“But--”

Again Joe interrupted her, this time leaving no room for argument, leeway, finagling or bargaining. “Leave. It. Alone. Isabel.”

Isabel tried to ward off her incoming headache. Breathe in, she instructed herself, breathe out. “Okay. Fine. Thanks, Uncle Joe.” Her words, though forced, were not impolite.

“Have a good day,” Joe saluted, and then turned back to his toaster again.

Knowing herself dismissed, Isabel walked as slowly and calmly as she could back down the stairs, through the store, and out the front door again. She hailed down a cab. She may have lost the battle, but she was determined to win the war.

~*~*~*~*~

At a little past nine in the morning, Maria opened the door to the Empire Management Philadelphia office. It’s rather small, just a greeting area where Maria’s desk was located, then a hallway along which there was an office with two couches that Isabel used for band meetings on one side, and a kitchen on the other. It was usually empty, so Maria was shocked when, upon turning on the lights, she found Isabel sitting at the front desk.

“Jesus, Isabel!” Maria exclaimed as she closed the office door behind her. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Good,” Isabel said darkly.

Though Maria considered herself to be a brave woman, she cowered. Isabel was frightening when she was angry.

“What’s, um,” she gulped, “what’s going on?”

Isabel stood up slowly, serenely, with an unmistakable air of power. She took one, two, three slow and deliberate steps towards Maria, like a tiger advancing on its prey. “There are things you haven’t told me about my brother, Maria.”

Somehow Isabel had maneuvered the both of them so that Maria was walking backwards, deeper into the office, while Isabel continued her commanding offense. “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.” At the end of the hallway, Maria’s back hit the wall and her eyes took on the frightened look of a creature who knew it was trapped.

“Oh, I think you do.” Isabel waited until she stood directly in front of Maria. She looked down her nose, taking every advantage of her slight height over the girl to let her know exactly who was in charge. “Who is this girl who’s got my brother so upset?”

~*~*~*~*~

Maria, for all her good qualities, had one unmistakable flaw: she was without a doubt the biggest blabbermouth in Philadelphia. Within minutes, Isabel had the complete story behind the mystery woman whose acquaintance with her brother could be kindly described as sparring. And thanks to Maria’s impeccable record-keeping, Isabel found the delivery stubs from the flowers which Max – that is, Maria – had sent. Half an hour later, she was in her car, with Ben in the passenger seat, on her way to 2125 Spring Street.

“I don’t see why I have to come,” Ben complained.

“Well, I’m not going to go to a strange apartment in a strange building all by myself. I need back up.”

“I’m your back up? Isabel, I’m a guitar player. I’m not a boxer.”

“You’re six foot two, that’s good enough for me.”

“Who are we going to see that you need back up for, anyway? Attila the Hun?” Isabel didn’t answer and kept her eyes fixed on the streets in front of her. “You might at least tell me what the hell we’re doing.”

“Look, all you have to do is walk in there with me. You don’t have to say anything; I just want someone with me. I’ll do all the talking.”

Ben muttered, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What did you say?”

Damn Isabel for missing nothing. “I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” Isabel said as she turned the wheel and pulled the car off to the curb. “Here we are.”

The two of them walked into the front lobby together. Isabel gave the doorman a sweet smile when he asked what apartment they were heading to, and rattled off the number from the flowers as dulcetly and flawlessly as she could. It worked like a charm, and after signing their names to the registry, she and Ben were on their way to apartment 703.

When they found the door, Isabel knocked firmly. After a few moments, the door was opened by a woman with bright green eyes and dark red hair, too brilliant to come from a bottle, and an Amazon’s frame. She stood tall and unapologetic against the door frame, leaning the door against her shoulder. Isabel was shocked at the characteristics she immediately recognized as having in common with this woman; strong frame, stubbornness, confidence … this woman was even taller than she was! She dared a quick look down at her feet, just long enough to observe that she, like herself, was wearing heels. In them, they both stood nearly six feet tall, but this woman had just a bit more height, made evident by the way she tilted her head down just a little. This hadn’t been what Isabel had expected at all.

Determined not to be intimidated, and certainly not to give the impression of being so, Isabel brought her eyes back to the red-headed woman’s and prepared to meet her head-on.

Except she wasn’t looking back at Isabel. She appeared to be looking over her shoulder … at Ben?

“Can I help you?” she asked with a smile, not even looking Isabel’s way.

This was beyond shocking. Isabel was not accustomed to being ignored by anyone of either gender. She threw a withering look at Ben. He tried to appear contrite, but was smiling just as widely back at the girl in the doorway.

Isabel faced forward again. “Are you Liz?”

“Um, no.” She turned to her left, and soon the door opened the rest of the way. This time, a small, petite woman with brown hair and brown eyes appeared. Both gave off a confident and unmistakably intelligent air, and together, shoulder to, well, elbow, they formed a clearly united front. She was something of a shocker, too – Max didn’t usually go for girls like this. Max usually went for girls who were taller than the brunette, not quite as tall as the redhead, and usually didn’t have enough brain cells to change a light bulb. Neither of these two would be as easy to deal with as Isabel had thought. But at least she had the height advantage against the woman whom she assumed to be Liz.

Isabel went into war mode; hands on hips, feet apart, diaphragm open, she bellowed, “What the hell did you do to my brother?”

Now it was Liz and Serena’s turn to be shocked. Liz recovered first. “Excuse me?”

“No, I won’t. Now tell me, what the hell did you say to him?”

“Hey,” interrupted Serena, “where the hell do you get off?”

“I’m asking the questions here, and not to you. Butt out,” Isabel retorted.”

“Look, lady,” Liz raised her voice, “I don’t even know who your brother is!”

“Don’t play dumb sweetheart, it doesn’t work for you.”

Something about the way she said “sweetheart” reminded Liz of something. After thinking for a moment, she said, “Are you Joe’s niece?”

Isabel snorted. “Very good, genius. If Max is my brother, then yes, that would make me Joe’s niece. Now, are you going to answer my question, or what?”

“Hi, I’m Ben,” Ben had stepped around Isabel to her other side and was now standing next to Serena. He held his hand out for her to shake.

“I didn’t do anything to your brother! If anything, he’s been harassing me!”

“That’d be kind of difficult, since he’s been holed away in Edgemont for over two weeks!”

“Oh, thank God,” Liz said mockingly, “shelter from the storm.”

“I’m Serena,” Serena smiled right back as she shook his hand.

Isabel started to pull together her other intimidation techniques, since the usual ones weren’t working. As she’d done earlier with Maria, she started to take small steps forward, hoping to force Liz into a retreat. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve said or haven’t said to him. I’m telling you now: stay away from him.”

“I’m trying to,” Liz backed away, but not as quickly nor as far as Isabel had intended. Her stepping away was not a sign of retreat, but of holding together – she seemed to be keeping the battle lines clear rather than giving way. “He’s the one who keeps on sending packages to my home, my work. You’re his sister, why don’t you get him to stay away from me?”

“He has a girlfriend. Do you usually go around trying to steal people’s boyfriends away from them?”

“I’M NOT TRYING to steal him from anyone! I don’t care who he’s sleeping with. Though perhaps you should be reminding HIM that he has a girlfriend, so he’ll stop coming on to ME!”

“Think they’ll be at this for a while?” Ben asked, leaning his shoulder against the same doorframe that Serena was occupying. Their heads bent together as if they were planning a conspiracy.

“Oh, definitely,” was her response.

“You? Please. You’re not his type. He generally goes for women with …” Isabel raked her eyes over Liz from head to toe and back again, lingering pointedly on her chest. There was an eerie similarity in the gesture that made Liz think of when Max had done the same thing, though this time was much more malicious. “Better teeth,” Isabel concluded.

“Hey!” Serena stood straight, ready to come to the defense of her friend.

“Shut up!” Liz and Isabel yelled at her before they resumed their arguments.

“You get the feeling we’re not wanted?” Ben inquired.

“Distinctly.”

“Wanna grab some lunch? I know a place in Chinatown.”

Serena tried to hide the fact that she was jumping for joy on the inside. “Okay,” she answered as casually as she could before grabbing her leather coat off the coat hanger on the wall and walking with Ben down the hallway.

Meanwhile, Liz was finishing up her outraged response to Isabel’s insult. “He’s the one who’s been pursuing me. I’ve told him to back off. Joe’s told him to back off. These last two weeks are the first time I’ve had some unadulterated peace since the day I met your brother. And that’s his fault, not mine. And now that you’ve insulted me and ordered me around in my own home, I want you to leave before I call building security.”

There was no room for argument in her words, at least not that Isabel could find. She’d have to leave with what she had, which was a lot of nothing. Isabel wasn’t used to being disappointed. She found that she didn’t like it very much. Mustering what dignity she could, she said, “Fine! Come on, Ben.” She turned around and found herself looking out into an empty hallway. “Ben?”

“Serena?” Liz called.

Isabel took in an angry breath. “Apparently we’ve been abandoned.”

“So it would seem.”

“Do you always have to have the last word on everything?” Isabel glared at Liz, who didn’t feel the pressure as she shrugged.

“Not always, but it helps.”

“I don’t like you.”

“I’m not joining your fan club anytime soon either, sweetheart,” Liz told her, emphasizing that same name “sweetheart” that Isabel had called her earlier.

“My heart breaks.”

“I’m sure.”

“Shut up!”

“Get out.”

Isabel raised her chin and stomped out of the apartment. As she’d done to her brother, Liz slammed the door shut in her wake. As she collapsed onto the couch, Liz wondered if the insanity with that family would ever end.


~*~*~*~
TBC

[LairaBehr4]

Sorry guys, I'm posting and running ... thank you all!


Eats, Shoots & Leaves;

Or,

Looking For a Prince in a World Full of Frogs

Chapter Eighteen – Where Have You Been All My Life?


Serena’s loud laughter echoed through the arcade. “I won! Look at that. And, oh! Why, I think … I think … I just knocked your high score off the board! Huh. Shame.”

“Huh?” Ben exclaimed. “How did you do that?”

“Because,” Serena answered matter-of-factly, “I am the queen of Pacman. I am the Pacman master. Mr. Pacman wants to leave Mrs. Pacman for me! I’m that good, baby.”

“And so humble, too,” Ben observed with a smile.

Serena bent down to collect the snake-like stream of tickets ejected from the machine; almost twice as many as Ben had won. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be perfect. Now come on, I want to kick your ass at Whack-a-Mole.”

“Yeah, you wish,” Ben scoffed, but inside he was really, really hoping she wouldn’t. He didn’t think his ego could take such a beating.

Sure enough, forty minutes later, Ben and Serena were comparing their respective scores, and though it was close, Serena still came out ahead by 30 points.

“Waking up now, are you?” she said with a wink.

Ben's pulse raced. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

“’Bout time.”

“You can let some of ‘em go, you know.”

Serena’s grey eyes glittered in merriment. “What fun would that be?”

Ben laughed and admitted that she definitely had a point. As soon as he’d seen her, he’d had an almost magnetic attraction to her. He was so thrown by it that he couldn’t think of any of his usual pick-up lines and had been forced to resort to the very suave opener of “Hi, I’m Ben.” But luckily he still seemed to have enough of his Irish charm to carry it out. And thank God, too, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun. He’d laughed all the way through their lunch and, when it was over, couldn’t bear the thought of taking her home. So he’d suggested a trip to the Dave & Buster’s along the river, near the Ben Franklin Bridge. And even though he was losing, he was having the time of his life.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to see her taken down a peg or two, though. Because if it was this much fun falling behind, he could only imagine how much fun it’d be to be on top.

That thought conjured up several different images in his brain and caused his body to have a swift reaction. He cleared his throat and tried to reign in his impulses. He had to finish one thing before moving on to the other. “Okay, smarty,” he said, placing one hand on Serena’s hip and pulling her a little closer – not so much that their bodies touched, but enough to let her know he was taking charge. “You picked the last two games: now, it’s my turn.”

“Oh, yeah?” Serena smiled, glad he was starting to take some matters into his own hands. She was an independent sort and believed that that should go both ways: she didn’t want to be always in charge any more than she wanted to always be ordered around. This guy was clever, polite, and could laugh at himself as much as anybody else. This was turning into one of the best dates she’d ever had.

Well, technically it wasn’t a date yet, but she was hoping to change that.

“Yeah,” Ben returned her smile. Damn, this girl was something.

“So,” Serena put one hand on Ben’s chest, “what’s your poison?”

Ben used his hand to point to a spot behind Serena’s shoulder. When she turned to see what he had in mind, her confidence started to falter just a little bit. “You’re serious?”

Ben sensed her hesitation and knew that this was going to be fun. “Let’s go.”

~*~*~*~

Max finished rinsing the dishes from the basement in the kitchen on the first floor. He was glad he’d waited a few hours; the afternoon sunlight was almost too much for his eyes after so much time in the basement. He honestly couldn’t believe it’d been two weeks since he’d first came here. But it didn’t matter. He knew he couldn’t just hide out here forever. He’d have to face his stupid mistakes sooner or later.

~*~*~*~

“You are so dead,” Ben smiled wickedly as he settled into the driver’s seat which matched the one he’d just helped Serena into. “I used to drive Ferraris on the Autobahn.”

“You were in Germany?” Serena asked.

Ben dug into his pocket for money for the game. “Yep. Lived there for about a year. My parents both worked for the Foreign Service and they had an over-developed sense of family and didn’t want to send me to a boarding school, so I moved around with them.”

“Oh, wow,” Serena was impressed, an accomplishment which was not easily done. At least now she knew where his brains came from. “Where else did you live?”

“All sorts of places. Madagascar, Russia, India, Japan, Germany, Italy, Morocco, Ireland. Those are the ones I remember.”

“And what made you decide to move to Philadelphia?” Serena asked, getting ready as the game sprung to life.

“College. I went to UPenn.” Ben didn’t want to get into too much detail about his college life, since most of it had been spent playing and writing songs with Max before the band was ultimately formed. He’d dropped out at the beginning of his junior year to focus exclusively on the music, and he’d never regretted his decision or wished to go back to school. But Serena made him wish he had. She was a lawyer, he’d discovered over lunch; had graduated law school early and was now working in one of the best firms in the city, working for clients who paid top-dollar as well as a few clients who couldn’t pay at all. Ben wasn’t a guy easily intimidated, but Serena managed to do it without even trying.

He found it so incredibly sexy.

“Decide to make it easy for me?” Serena inquired, tearing her eyes away from the screen for a short second.

“Huh?” Ben asked, with his jaw hanging down. Serena didn’t answer, just motioned towards the screen with her head. Ben ventured a look and saw that his car was still standing behind the line, while Serena’s was racing ahead. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed. He jumped into action, grasping the wheel tightly and pushing the pedal down with his foot in an effort to catch up. He heard Serena laugh merrily. He could swear he felt his heart skip a beat.

~*~*~*~

The overhead bell was so familiar by now, it was starting to become annoying. In an oddly comforting kind of way.

“Joe?” Liz called out as she stepped inside. She slipped her coat off and went for the closet that she knew was in the hallway.

“Be down in a minute, sweetheart,” she heard his voice float from upstairs. She walked back into the store. Her eyes automatically went to the corner by the front window where her desk usually was. As she’d approached the front door from the sidewalk, she had noticed that the space had been replaced with a green upholstered chair. Panic had seized her. She desperately needed to know if the desk had been sold. Liz tried to tell herself that it was okay; it wasn’t as though the desk was hers, or would likely ever be, given the price of it, and Joe had a business to run and if someone was willing to pay for it, she couldn’t very well tell him not to. But she couldn’t help herself. She’d fallen in love with that desk and couldn’t bear the thought of it leaving the store for any home but hers. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to concentrate on the dread unfurling in her stomach.

The bell chimed again. “Hey Joe, I just wanted to stop by and say …” Max stopped talking mid-sentence when his eyes beheld not his uncle, but Liz instead. “Hi,” he said.

Liz tried not to roll her eyes. “Oh, God,” she mumbled.

“Wha?” Max asked, confused. He took a couple of steps forward.

Liz marched right back to the closet and grabbed her coat. “Look, I’ll come back another time. I just really don’t think I can take any more of your crazy family today.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about whatever you said to your sister. She showed up at my apartment and just started yelling at me, completely out of the blue. What, do I have to get a restraining order on all of you?”

“She did what?” Max knew his sister was worried, but what on earth would possess her to do something so totally out of line? How did she even know who Liz was or where she lived?

Maria. Max cussed under his breath. It was the only possible link, besides Joe, and out of the two of them, Max knew which was more likely to open their big mouths. Jesus. Maybe he’d made a mistake in leaving the house after all, as the world had clearly not yet recovered from the insanity of two weeks earlier. Damn those two.

His attention came back to his present surroundings when Liz tried to move past him to get to the front door. “Wait, wait, wait,” he placed a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I didn’t know she would do something like that. I haven’t even talked to her for two weeks.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that,” Liz wanted to say that line lightly and uncaringly; after all, she’d gotten nothing but one headache on top of another from this guy and his sister. But it didn’t quite come out that way, and something compelled her to ask, “Are you okay?”

Max released her arm. “I’m fine. I’ll talk to my sister. She won’t bother you again.”

For some odd reason, Liz believed him. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Silence fell over the two of them, and with it came a strange truce. The funny thing was, now that they had unofficially agreed not to fight, Liz had no idea what to say to him. She didn’t want to tell him that she knew he was Max Evans of Infiltration with a hit single on the charts; after all, he hadn’t brought it up at all, and maybe he didn’t want anyone to know. Why else would he be hanging out in a dusty and barely frequented antique furniture store? Foot traffic would definitely pick up if the general public knew that this was where he could be found regularly. He deserved his privacy as much as the next person and Liz didn’t want to encroach on it without an invitation.

Similarly, Max was finding himself rather short on words at the moment. It was so strange; they’d traded barbs so easily before and now they were both just standing there in a ridiculous and awkward silence. But he didn’t trust himself to open his mouth without fucking up whatever points, if any, he’d just scored, or giving her an excuse to walk out the door.

They were so busy nervously glancing at each other that they didn’t hear Joe join them from the apartment upstairs. Joe took in the scene with his usual dry perception. “Do you want me to leave again so you can pretend not to be staring at each other?”

“Actually,” suddenly Max wanted to be anywhere else than where he was. “I’m gonna go, I was just stopping by to check in.”

Joe tried to coax him. “Max, stay.”

“No,” he said, “I have an errand to run anyway.” He turned back towards the door. “I’ll see you later, Joe.”

With that he dashed out the door and turned towards the alley where his car was parked. As soon as he was out of sight of the store’s front windows, he stopped his hectic pace and leaned against the brick wall, pounding his fists into it. What was it about this girl that couldn’t make him get his stuff right?

~*~*~*~

Ben was starting to pull ahead. He’d beaten Serena by about 240 points in the Racecar game – not as solid a thrashing as she’d given him at Pacman, but certainly respectable.

“Unfair advantage. My feet couldn’t reach the pedals,” Serena argued. She emptied her driver’s seat and started wandering through the arcade again.

Ben laughed. “You liar. Your feet reach the pedals just fine.”

“They do not.”

“With legs like yours,” Ben growled, “they do. Save the bullshit for the tourists.”

“Hey! I resent that! I will now proceed to ignore you.”

“No, you won’t. I’m buying you dinner.”

Serena’s eyebrows raised and her lips curved upwards in a smile. “Oh, well. If you insist.”

Ben laughed, a little relieved that she’d agreed to prolong their outing so easily. His usual nervousness seemed to evaporate when he was with her. He liked who he was when he was with her.

And he’d only known her about five hours.

“So are we going to eat here?” Serena asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Um,” Ben thought quickly and spotted one more game he wanted to play before they left. “No, actually. You got to pick two games; I think I get to choose one more before we can move on to the dinner portion.”

“Sounds fair. What did you have in mind?”

Ben grinned. “Ever play basketball?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no!” A look of horror covered Serena’s face. “I’m claiming an unfair advantage again.”

“Come on, I’ll go easy on you.”

Serena scoffed. “I’d like to believe you, but I think your nose is actually growing."

“Okay, I won’t go easy on you.” Ben started maneuvering towards the dual-hoop basketball machine, holding her hand tightly. “But hey, you took my high score off the Pacman board. I’ve had at least one high score on that particular Pacman machine for the last nine years, and in one day you take me completely off the board. If I have to use my height to my advantage, so be it.”

“I still say it’s not fair.”

“Would you like me to crouch down or get a chair or something?” Ben asked as they took their positions in front of the two hoops.

Serena pretended to think about it, and then shrugged. “It’s okay,” she mumbled.

Ben leaned down to put his quarters in the machine, which lit up with a mechanical tune. “Then why were you complaining about it?”

“I wasn’t complaining.” Ben gave her a knowing look. “Okay, I was, but I didn’t mean it. I like your height.”

“You do, huh?” Ben put his hands back on her waist, and this time he didn’t hesitate to bring her flush against him. His lips ran along her forehead as he spoke. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the exotic flowery scent of her shampoo.

Serena tried to remember what her point was, but everything about him was so distracting. What were words again? “You, um … you’re, what, about 182 centimeters?”

Ben chuckled. “Centimeters?”

Of their own volition, Serena’s hands slid up Ben’s chest for the second time that day. She had intended to push him away a little, to get some space between them, but it ended up feeling a bit more sensual than that. “Well, you said you grew up in other countries. I was just trying to make you feel at home.”

“How do you know centimeters?”

“My parents still use ‘em. So, about 182? Six-foot-two?” She could feel Ben’s hands moving from her waist to circle her back and lightly brush against the exposed skin at the small of her back. Her jaw shook, and she hoped he couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, that’s about right.” They were swaying together now, perfectly in sync with each other. “Why?”

A small moan escaped Serena’s throat. “I’m about 173. Five-foot-eight. I’m taller than most guys already. When I wear heels, it’s even worse. Makes me feel like a freak sometimes,” she confessed.

The content sounds coming from the back of her throat were driving Ben the best kind of crazy he’d ever known. “So what you’re saying is that I’m six inches more of a freak than you are?”

“No,” Serena laughed, and lifted her head up to look at him for the first time since they’d assumed this position. “I’m just saying … I like that you’re tall.”

Neither one knew which of them made the first move, but soon just looking at each other wasn’t enough. He bent down, and she leaned up, and their lips met. It was barely a whisper of a touch that echoed through the both of them and made them grin like idiots when they parted again.

Ben recovered first. “This doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you, you know.”

Serena let out an exasperated sigh even though the grin didn’t leave her face for a second. “What did I waste my time for, then?”

“Free dinner.”

“Oh, yeah.”

~*~*~*~

“What brings you by, sweetheart?” Joe asked after Max’s unceremonious exit.

“Oh, I, um,” having already resolved – she hoped – the problem with Max’s sister showing up at her apartment, Liz didn’t want to bring it up again with Joe now. “Just dropped by to say hi.”

“He wasn’t bugging you again, was he?” Joe jerked his thumb towards the door that Max had just left through.

“No,” Liz said softly, “he wasn’t bothering me.” Joe nodded with apparent satisfaction at the news and busied himself with fitting the shelves he’d brought from upstairs into the bookcase frame standing next to the green chair that took up the space where her desk used to be. “So, um, what happened to the desk? Did you sell it today?” Liz asked dejectedly.

Joe looked over his shoulder and chuckled. “I did have someone interested in buying it today, but I told him it was already spoken for.” Hope filled Liz’s eyes. It thrilled Joe to see it, but he didn’t show it. “I moved it downstairs this afternoon after I ran a few errands. It’s got your name on it, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Joe,” Liz’s smile reached her ears. She couldn’t believe he was going to such lengths for her, just because she’d asked about a desk one day. “Joe, can I ask you a question?”

“Ask away.”

“Why are you so nice to me?” she asked cautiously. She didn’t want to offend him with her question, nor did she want to take for granted the instant friendship she’d struck with him, but she did wonder.

Joe seemed to think about it for a second before he shrugged, “I’m just a naturally nice guy.”

Liz had a suspicion that there was more to it than that, but she was willing to let it go when she heard the loud roll of thunder outside. The late afternoon sunshine had faded fast, and a storm was coming in with the onset of dusk. “Ooh, that doesn’t sound good,” Joe observed. He walked over next to her and joined her in looking out the glass windows to where the whole world seemed to be suddenly painted in gray. “Do you want to wait it out here? I think I’ve got some spiced cider in the back.”

Liz was tempted, but instead decided “I’d better try to beat the worst of it home, actually. I’ve got to get up early for work tomorrow, and I want to make sure my roommate’s okay. She just took off earlier and I haven’t seen her since.”

“You’ll be okay? You’ve got money for a cab?”

“Yeah,” Liz said, “I think I’ve got enough.”

Joe gave her a hug, as was becoming routine for them. “Get home safe, sweetheart.”

“Take care, Joe. I’ll see you later this week.”

“Sounds good.”

Liz braved the pouring rain and dashed out the door and towards the street, one arm out in a desperate search to wave down a taxi. Joe watched her bring her coat over her head to try to protect her hair from the rain. She looked so much like …

Joe shook himself violently to get himself out of the obvious funk he was in. He usually went months without thinking about her at all, and now he’d thought about her no less than three times in one day. She had been so jubilant, so special, so amazing and funny. “Sweetheart” had reminded him of her from the first day she’d walked in; she was unique in her own right - clever, charismatic and charming – and he certainly liked her for herself alone, but she had the undeniable power to remind him of his previous shortcomings. At first he’d thought that a cultivated friendship with her would, besides the obvious benefits, give him a chance to make up for his cosmic foul-up so many years ago by proving to her, to the world, to himself, how much he had changed. But now, it just seemed so petty and small, especially since the woman he’d changed for wasn’t there to bear witness to his turn-around.

Well, this was certainly cheery, he thought. Determinedly he walked down the few steps and locked the door, then headed towards the stairs, turning out the lights on his way. Maybe some spiced cider would be good for one after all.

~*~*~*~

“Damn! How long were we in there?” Ben asked. The sunny autumn day had fled, and ominous clouds drenched the world in forlorn blues and grays. Already drops of rain peppered the ground, and they were growing in strength and number. Serena let out a shiver, and Ben turned to watch her pull her coat tighter across her chest. She looked up at him, and all he saw were her eyes, which matched the colors the world was painted in. It was as if some painter had missed the sky with his brush and had dabbed her eyes in their color instead. She looked utterly breathtaking. He could feel his world toppling just from her gaze.

Then his world literally did topple, his feet swept out from under him. One leg stretched outright and the other buckled and bent. He put his hands out behind him and cried out when they came into contact with something sharp and biting, the impact heightened from supporting his weight. He looked around him and realized that he’d fallen on a slick wet subway shaft. He cussed under his breath in embarrassment. Why couldn’t he have looked where he was going?

When he looked around for Serena, though, he found her laughing jollily with her hands on her knees and her head bent downwards. “Oh, that’s really nice,” he smiled. She looked down at him, laughter ringing down the street, raindrops streaming down her face, her eyes filled with such merriment that she looked like an angel. But Ben didn’t want to entertain that line of thought until he was back on his feet again – literally. “You want to help me up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. This might be the only chance I ever have to be taller than you,” Serena teased even as she crouched down closer to him and held her hand out.

“Why, you…” Ben took her hand and used it to pull her down into his lap. She screamed out, “Ah! No!” as his hands worked their way under her coat and began to squirm around her stomach. She closed her eyes and cried out “No, no!” even as she stretched out and left her body even more open to his tickling attack. Suddenly his fingers stilled. One of his arms was on her side and the other was wrapped around her lower back. Startled by the sudden change, Serena opened her eyes and looked up at him. His deep green eyes drew her in and made her forget everything else; the cold, the rain, none of it existed. She was vaguely aware of his arm snaking up over the back of her bra and around her shoulder as his grip tightened. The air nearly crackled with the electricity and heat between them. Suddenly he leaned down and captured her lips with his own. She felt his tongue tracing her lips and opened up to him. The sensation of his tongue stroking hers made her feel dizzy and beautiful and blithe. It seemed to last forever. She hoped it’d last forever.

Nothing had ever felt as right to Ben having her in his arms. He wasn’t an inexperienced guy and considered himself to be pretty down to earth, but kissing her made him feel like he could fly.

At long last he pulled away so that they could both let some air enter their burning lungs. They clung close to each other, unwilling to pull away.

Ben broke the silence, finally going, “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“What?! What is it?” Serena asked worriedly.

“You – you’re sitting on my leg.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Serena scurried off of him only to slip on the grate herself and go sliding back to the ground with a thwap. Now it was Ben’s turn to laugh.

“We make quite a pair, don’t we?” Ben grinned at her.

“We do, at that.” Serena was amazed that, after a kiss as explosive as that one, they could sit there and make fools of themselves as the rain continued to fall. There was no awkwardness or questioning from their impromptu make-out session on a dirty Philadelphia sidewalk, not even any embarrassment from their respective falls since it put them both on an “equal footing.” They simply had a complete joy derived just from being with each other.

Ben managed to regain his balance enough to place his feet on the solid cement. He reached over to help Serena achieve the same goal. “Come on,” he smiled, “let’s catch a cab and get out of this rain.”

~*~*~*~

Furious windshield wipers squeaked across the glass of Max’s car. He was unaware of how he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white; it was more than enough for his one-track mind that the slick rain coming down in buckets from the sky had forced him to slow down as he approached his goal.

Finally he saw the drenched taupe awning with black bold letters telling him that he’d arrived. Lacking the patience to wait, he parked illegally at the curb, turning on his car alarm over his shoulder as he marched purposefully towards the door. He didn’t even hear the doorman politely trying to warn him that he couldn’t park there.

He was a man on a mission, and neither man nor weather would get in his way.

He didn’t even notice the stares in the lobby or elevator. When he got out on the floor he wanted, he didn’t register at all the two giggling teens who whipped out their cell phones to make a note of the floor number before the elevator doors had even closed.

He charged directly to the door he wanted and banged on it three times with a hard fist. “Isabel!” he shouted. When she didn’t answer right away, he banged again. “Come on, I know you’re in there!”

A little more banging was rewarded with an opening door. “God, Max,” Isabel flustered. “What are my neighbors going to think?”

“I can think of one girl’s neighbors that you didn’t bother to consider,” Max got straight to the point.

Isabel’s mouth turned into a straight line as she closed the door. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play the dumb blonde role with me, Isabel. I’m too smart for it, and so are you. You know exactly what I’m talking about. What the fuck did you think you were doing? Do you have any idea how out of line that was?” Max was shouting.

“Well, she obviously did or said something to you. Max, I tried to get in touch with you. I had to cancel your appearance on TRL, your radio interview on Y100. None of the band could even make plans because you decided you just had to go into fucking hibernation! You answer to more than yourself here you know, Max.”

“So do you. She didn’t say or do a damn thing, Isabel, and you just show up and chew her out for no reason without even bothering to get the facts?”

“I tried to get the facts! You’re the one who didn’t bother to return a damn phone call for two weeks! Would I even have seen you today if she hadn’t gone crying to you?”

“Not the damn point, Isabel! God! Are you deranged?”

Isabel snorted. “She thinks you are.”

“Isabel, damn it. I have two parents, and they’re overbearing enough already. I don’t need you joining in the fucking parade. Learn to back off.” He stormed passed her and unlocked the dead bolt that Isabel had bolted only a few seconds before. “And you can tell Maria to do the same if she still wants to have a fucking job in the morning.” He slammed the door behind him and left Isabel alone, too angry to stand her presence anymore.

The noise brought more than a few nosy neighbors to their doors. That was the sort of building this was; high class, certainly, calm and very, very small. His outburst would probably make the weekly building newsletter. He would have laughed if he was at all capable of humor at the moment. “Go back to your own lives!” he screamed at the dark heads peeking at him from chained doors.

Christ, he needed a drink.

~*~*~*~

“Come on,” Ben cajoled. “Say it again.”

The windows in his bedroom were opened a bit to let in a small wisp of cool autumn air. The shades were up. Serena could see the dim moonlight – or was it the city lights? – silhouetting his shaggy hair darker than the night as he leaned over her. His perfect chest, arm and stomach muscles were all perfectly defined and outlined by the same light, but it was a particular detail of his face that kept drawing her back. She was amazed that, even in this light, his jade eyes still seemed to glow. One hand of his massaged the base of her scalp, and the other was running coaxingly up and down her other arm. She lay on her back in his wooden sleigh bed, a lone thigh of his laying comfortably between her knees. Her hands grasped his forearms in mock impatience.

“I am not saying it again,” she stated absolutely.

“Aww, come on, Ser,” Ben’s mouth curved into a mischievous grin, one that he was learning she found very hard to ignore. “You know you want to.”

Serena closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side. “Nope, not gonna work.”

Ben changed tactics, lowering his chin to his chest and looking back up at her with pursed lips. “Please, Serena,” he begged.

“The puppy thing isn’t going to work, either.”

She’d shot down his direct request, boyish charm, and begging tactics. That only left Ben with one other mode of attack.

Prolonged siege to wear down defenses.

He took his right arm from its place on her side and captured her right hand. Slowly, deliciously, he brought it to his mouth and lightly took every finger tip inside, sucking lightly. When he heard her moans, he asked again hoarsely, “Serena?”

“Hmm?” Serena half answered, half moaned.

“Don’t you want to say it for me?”

Serena’s eyes flew open and met his, and they both burst into laughter at how easily she had been taken in. Serena reached up and pinched his nipple. “Ow!” he gasped. “Watch the goods!”

Serena shook her head. “Ben, you speak Russian! How can this be such a turn-on for you?”

“Well,” Ben leaned in, “it’s not so much the language or the words as much as the girl speaking them.” He took her hand again and this time sucked not-so-lightly on the curve which attached her thumb to the rest of her hand. “Say it for me, baby,” he huskily demanded.

Serena felt the last of her resistance fade away. She rolled her eyes and said, “Zdraastvoyche.”

Ben let out a long moan and immediately dived in to start nibbling on the delicate skin of her neck. Serena laughed, and for a long time afterwards their playful lovemaking was the only sound floating through his apartment.


~*~*~
TBC
“Zdraastvoyche" means "hello" in Russian.

[LairaBehr4]

What can I say? I couldn't resist.

Thank you to readers, fb'ers, lurkers, and especially to Spray.

'Be Still My Heart' is sung by The Postal Service. I changed a few of the words to make the song more applicable because I really, really wanted to use it.

Enjoy! And those of you in school, for goodness' sakes, GO STUDY!!

Yes, that means YOU!


Eats, Shoots & Leaves:

Or,

Looking for a Prince in a World Full of Frogs

Chapter Nineteen – Your Particular Brand of Vodka


The smell of toasting bagel made Liz's stomach growl as she poured herself a hot cup of coffee. She had several minutes yet before she had to leave for work, and she wanted to stay in the apartment for as long as possible to see if Serena would show up.

As if on cue, Liz heard a key turning quietly and slowly in the lock. Liz peeked through the beaded curtain separating the kitchen from the front living room of the apartment. Her grin grew wider as Serena silently crept into the apartment like a teenage girl coming home way after curfew. She hadn't been noticed yet, and decided to have a little fun. She waited and observed as Serena quickly scanned the living room, trying to sneak to the hallway. When she'd crossed about thirteen feet into the apartment, she appeared satisfied that Liz wasn't home, dropped the act and walked normally for several steps. Now was the time for Liz to make her move. "Hi!" she cheerily called, simultaneously waving the beads aside with one quick movement. Serena jumped and gasped before turning around to face her, her jaw open and one hand over her heart. Liz grinned. "Funny, you look just like my roommate. You know, the one that didn't come home last night."

Serena colored. “I didn’t?” she asked with a crooked smile, trying to act innocent and failing miserably.

Liz rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, you didn’t. So what happened with you?”

The smile turned genuine and took over Serena’s entire face. “Oh my God, Liz, I met the most woooonderful guy!” Her arms spread out as she twirled around a couple of times.

“You did?”

“Yeah! He was here and we were talking and—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you talking about the guy with the black hair who came here with the screaming lady?”

Serena’s smile went undiminished. “Yep! That’s him!”

“Serena, you went home with a guy you just met?!”

“It wasn’t like that, Liz. We hung out for hours in Chinatown and then over by the river and then downtown. We talked and laughed and goofed around and had a great time! And when he kissed me, I just …” Serena’s smile shifted from enthusiastic to dreamy, and she closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the memory of how wonderful Ben’s kisses were.

Seeing that she was losing her roommate, Liz snapped her fingers in front of Serena’s face a few times. “Hey! Focus, please.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah, well, what are you gonna do? Anyway. So we had lunch and walked around Chinatown and then went to the arcade and –”

Again Liz cut her off. “Can you walk while you dish? I have to eat breakfast before I take off.”

Serena followed Liz back into the kitchen. “So we went to the arcade and I kicked his ass at Pacman and we went to have dinner and I was just having such an incredible time, I didn’t want to go home. Liz, I swear, it was so amazing! I’ve never just met somebody like that and had such an instant connection with them, you know? And he’s smart and funny and he gets my jokes and he can take my jibes and gets me back too, and I just … I’ve never met a guy who could keep up with me like this.”

Liz had to admit, she’d had her doubts about this guy (quite justifiable, in her opinion, considering how it was that he’d happened into her best friend’s life), but hearing Serena talk about him, she was starting to come around. “Wow. Serena. I’ve never seen you quite like this over a guy.”

“I know! I’ve never felt like this over a guy. I mean, usually there’s one or two things about them that I’m attracted to, but I’ve never really found someone who had the whole package.” Serena lapsed into silence for a moment as she reflected on how wonderful Ben was, when suddenly she remembered that she’d kept out one of the most important details. “And, oh my God, Liz, he’s SOOO good!”

Now Liz was the one blushing. “Serena!”

“Well, he is! When we kissed, I swear I started shaking. And he didn’t even use tongue the first time! God, he just … he kisses me and I just forget about everything else. When he kisses me, it feels like he’s doing it just for me, like we’re the only people in the whole world. It’s like a god damn pop song. And when we were making love, it was -”

“Damn, Serena, at least wait until I’ve finished my coffee!”

Serena giggled and continued as if she hadn’t heard a thing. “We were making love and it was light and funny and –”

“Funny? Making love to him is funny?”

“Who’s telling this story here?”

“Right. Continue.”

“Thank you,” Serena said with authority. It didn’t last as her face gave way to utter cluelessness. “Um, where was I?”

“You were making love and it was funny.”

“Oh, yeah. It was funny and sweet and gentle and just soo perfect!”

“Well, good. I’m happy for you.”

“And that’s not all, Liz. He’s tall – I mean tall! He’s like a whole head taller than me! And he’s smart – he went to Penn for undergrad. And he’s traveled, like, everywhere. He lived in Russia AND Ireland! He’s Irish, actually. Well, of course he is, with a name like Ben Campbell. And he …”

Serena kept on talking about how wonderful her evening was, but Liz couldn’t concentrate after she’d heard the name. Ben Campbell. She recognized that name. He was a member of Max’s band, Infiltration. His picture and some interview quotes had been in that ‘Rolling Stone’ article that Peter had given her a few weeks back. Did Serena know? Liz scoured her brain to try to remember whether the article had mentioned if Ben had a girlfriend, but she came up empty – her attention had been focused more on Max when she’d read it, since he’d been propositioning her in spite of having a girlfriend. But at least she hadn’t slept with him. Serena had not only slept with this guy, she was quickly developing deep feelings for him, if she hadn’t already. Liz couldn’t remember Serena ever experiencing heartache, since most of the guys she dated she was never especially attached to. She’d never been in love, and therefore had never had her heart broken. Sure, there’d been guys who turned out to be less than charming, but their effect had never been serious. But this guy, Liz could tell, Serena was getting serious about. And the last thing she ever wanted was for her friend, who had such an open, outgoing and blithe nature, to feel any kind of pain.

“… and he spoke Russian to me in bed, Liz. I’ve never been with a guy who could speak Russian! It was sooo sexy … I mean, John Cleese has nothing on this guy. And then he spoke in all these other languages too, and I just …” Serena had momentarily run out of things to gush about, and Liz took the opportunity to speak.

“Are you going to see him again?”

Serena swayed blissfully in the kitchen chair she’d sat in. “He’s picking me up tonight at seven.”

“What does he do?” Liz decided to figure out how much her friend knew for now.

“He …” Serena cocked her head to the side. “You know, I don’t know. He said that he was here in town before his work took him away again, but I don’t think he ever mentioned what he did. Must involve travel, though.” Liz nodded and looked into her coffee cup. “You okay?” Serena asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I should be asking you that question, actually.”

“I’m so good, Liz. I really, really like this guy.”

“I can see that,” Liz said sincerely. She had to admit, Serena did look happier than she could ever remember seeing her.

Serena gazed off at nothing for a few seconds before she returned to the present. “Don’t you have to go to work soon?”

That brought Liz back to earth as well. “Yeah, I should go now. I probably won’t see you tonight, will I?”

“God, I hope not! No offence.”

“None taken. Have fun.”

“Oh baby, I will.”

Liz left the apartment with a smile. Serena’s good mood was contagious, and Liz didn’t want to spoil it just yet. She was going to try not to judge the guy by his company, nor by his failure to divulge certain details … yet. After all, it had only been one day. Maybe the topic of his job really hadn’t come up. And there was no evidence yet that he’d out-and-out lied to Serena.

A week, Liz thought. A week was enough time to give him a chance to tell her the truth, or tell Serena herself before she was too deeply involved.

At least, so Liz hoped.

~*~

“Hey Joe, I just came by to … what the hell is that?!”

Joe didn’t even look up. “Good morn-,” he glanced at the clock on the gadget that currently had him occupied, “afternoon to you too, Max.”

Max gripped the doorframe for support, certain he was about to stumble backwards down the stairs to his almost certain death. “Yeah. Hi. What the hell is that?!”

Joe gave Max a look that clearly said, ‘what does it look like?’. “It’s a computer, Max.”

“That’s not your computer.”

“Damned well better be. I paid enough for it.”

“Joe, you haven’t bought a new computer since before I started high school! I think that thing still ran DOS or something.”

“Well, see, Max, there’s this new fangled thing called the internet. The whole block just chipped in for access, and since this is my morning for it, I thought I’d give it a go.”

“You have internet in this place now?”

“Amazing what you can get done when you wake up before noon, isn’t it?”

“And the store’s not open. Since when do you not open on Mondays?”

“Since I didn’t feel like it.”

Max shook his head in disbelief and said to himself quietly, “I’m going crazy. I’m standing here quietly and going utterly and completely crazy.”

“If you’re going to mutter, please do it downstairs. You might even make a little money at it if you take your act out on the street.”

“Thanks for the tip, but I think that, when the going gets tough, the tough hit up their families.” Max flashed his uncle a million dollar smile.

“Cute. Speaking of families …” Joe looked at him pointedly.

Max feigned cluelessness. “What?”

“Have you seen your sister?”

“I’ve seen her, all right,” Max grumbled.

“And?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Joe gave a small shrug and turned back to his computer. “Okay.”

Max started walking behind his uncle’s seat and looked over his shoulder at the computer screen. “So what is it you’re doing on the internet exactly?”

“Hey!” Joe slammed down the cover of the laptop

“Whoa,” Max backed up and raised his hands defensively. “What’s up with you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Max raised and lowered his eyebrows. “Okay.” He started to walk towards the apartment door since Joe clearly wanted his privacy. “I came by to ask if I can borrow the precision Fender. The vintage one.”

Joe opened up his laptop again. “In the basement. You know store policy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You break it, you buy it.”

“Damn straight,” Joe eyed him over the top of the computer and gave him a smile, which Max returned. “When will you have it back?”

“Sometime tomorrow or the next day, probably. Ben called me at the fucking crack of dawn this morning. He wants to have a band meeting to go over some material he wrote, and I figured it’d be a good time to go over some of the stuff I wrote, too. Could be busy with that for a few days.”

“And you couldn’t use any of your six dozen guitars because …”

“Yours is better.”

“Of course. My mistake.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“Get out of here and work for a change.”

“Says the guy goofing around on the internet instead of opening his store on a Monday morning.”

“You still want that Fender?”

Max turned towards the door. “See you soon.”

“Bye, Max.”

“Bye, Joe.”

Joe listened to Max’s heavy footsteps down the stairs, then down through the basement. Once he was sure he was safe of any further interruptions, he resumed his internet search. This thing really was a remarkable tool; he should have done this sooner. The resources it offered were incredible; so far he’d come across Infiltration’s official site, and after overcoming the immense pride he felt for what his nephew had accomplished there, curiosity drove him on. He was astonished to find that he had a Wikipedia article on him (what was Wikipedia, anyway?) and a few sites where people of all ages would leave messages about how much they enjoyed his music. It was awesome and humbling for him to know that, even though his success thirty years ago was nothing like what Max’s was now, there were still people who appreciated it.

Another interesting part about the internet was that it seemed to reconnect links. You did a search, and anything pertaining to your words came up. And though Joe had never “Googled” anything before about twenty minutes ago, he was truly amazed that, with one little click, you could find just about anybody.

Anybody.

~*~

Whistles and envious sighs filled the room as Max pulled the Fender out from its case. “Wow, Max. That is one sexy guitar. Me likee,” Tess purred. She turned to Kyle, in whose lap she was currently sitting. “How come you don’t play guitar again?”

Kyle’s arrogant smile accompanied his response. “Drums help develop and strengthen one’s sense of rhythm.” He wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

Tess gave a lustful look back at the guitar. “I don’t know, I think I’d find a way to work around no rhythm for that thing.”

“Okay, that’s it, Evans. Put the guitar away before I come and beat you over the head with it.”

Max smiled as he settled in with the guitar, tuning it with gentle hands. “Hey, if you want to explain to my uncle what happened to his guitar, be my guest.”

“That’s Joe’s guitar?”

“Yep.”

Kyle blanched. “Never mind. Your uncle could probably kill me with his house keys if he wanted to.”

“No way, baby,” Tess kissed his neck lightly. “He’d at least have to use a hanger or something.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes at her. “You’ll pay for that.”

The two of them quickly forgot that there was anyone else in the room as they settled into an easy game of teasing and touching. Finally Max said, “If you two don’t cool it off, I’ll break out the hose.”

“Promise?” Kyle wiggled his eyebrows again.

Tess hit his chest. “He’s not going to use the hose. All that water around all his precious guitars? Never happen.”

Kyle looked disappointed. Then a proverbial light bulb seemed to go off above his head. “Want to move this outside?”

Max shook his head and chuckled. As long as Ben was still upstairs, it wasn’t as though they could really start this band meeting anyway. Might as well let Kyle and Tess have some fun. But Max really, really wished he didn’t have to bear witness to it. For one thing, voyeurism really wasn’t his particular brand of vodka; he’d rather do than watch. For another thing, watching them like that was kind of … discomforting. It made him ache in his gut. It wasn’t jealousy – he didn’t have feelings for Tess, nor she for him, as anything beyond friends and band mates. And yet, watching them, Max found himself wishing he had something like that. He wished he could be that comfortable, that open, that natural with someone. He didn’t know anyone he was like that with, not even Joe or any of the people in his house at the moment. A certain face crept into his thoughts, but he pushed it out again with a sigh. There were people he was a lot closer to being like that with than her.

His leather jacket, which was hanging over the arm of the plush La-Z-Boy that he sat in, gave a small buzz, alerting him to a text message. He reluctantly took one hand off the guitar and dipped it into the jacket pocket, pulling out his sleek black phone. The message was from Pam.

Tonight? XX

Max flipped the phone shut without responding. Pam wasn’t going to be able to do it for him tonight.

“Jesus Christ, you two, get a room,” Ben chastised Kyle and Tess as he came down the stairs.

“We had one,” Kyle said, “with a nice, warm, big bed in it. We left it to come here. Deal.”

Ben turned to Max. “Your dad know you allow this in your home?”

Max grimaced. “Don’t even joke about that shit. He already thinks this place is nothing but a one-stop shop for users and hookers. I’m surprised the cops haven’t been around yet.”

“Far as you know,” Ben smiled. Ben was one of the few people who knew all of the gut-wrenching details about Max’s relationship with his dad; had in fact been witness to some of it during the time he spent at Max’s house when vacationing with his parents in the States. Even Kyle and Tess didn’t know the whole story. He nodded at the guitar. “You wanna go first?”

Max knew he was referring to sharing the new material they’d both come up with. “Nah, you go ahead.”

Ben grabbed a guitar and pulled a simple wooden chair over to where the rest of the group was sitting; Kyle and Tess in one easy chair, Max in another. He got comfortable and started tuning the guitar until he found the key he wanted. “So I’m thinking of something kinda gentle and funky with the keyboard, like electric, synthesizers, you know? And a really funky beat. Nothing too heavy, though. Max and I can hash out the harmony, but I think it could sound good with Tess singing the back-up. Anyway, just to give you a general idea, …” he started playing a soft tune, one string at a time, in a soothing way that made everyone in the room smile before he’d even begun singing the words.

You were running late for work,
So I didn’t change my shirt,
The evening’s drinks left a lingering taste in my mouth.
And when I woke you were fast asleep,
Tangled in the sheets,
And as I drove home I could have sworn it was all a dream,
It didn’t happen to me.

And then I felt the scrapes
From a slipp’ry subway grate,
Oh how you laughed at my complete lack of grace.
But I could not recall
A more perfect fall,
‘Cause when I looked up into your eyes it didn’t hurt at all.

And I thought,
Be still my heart,
This could be a brand new start
With you
And it could be clear,
If I wake up and you’re still here with me
In the morning.

Ben splayed a slow bridge, and when he started up the chorus again, Max joined in during the second line with some one-third harmony.

And I thought,
Be still my heart,
This could be a brand new start
With you
And it could be clear,
If I wake up and you’re still here with me

And I thought,
Be still my heart,
This could be a brand new start
With you
And it could be clear,
If I wake up and you’re still here with me
In the morning.

The song came to an end. “That’s all I’ve really got right now,” Ben said shyly as he put the guitar down.

“Nice, man,” Max nodded.

“I really like that, Ben,” Tess told him sincerely.

“Thanks,” he blushed.

Silence fell over the group before Kyle asked, “So who’s the girl?”

~*~

Liz was having another awful day. It was bad enough that it was a Monday, and that her weekend had been anything but stress-free, but the projects which she’d left on her desk at the close of business on Friday had been forced to take a back seat, even though they had deadlines, to the endless stream of coworkers coming to her with various demands and not-so-requesting requests. She was kept so busy catering to everybody else’s needs that she did not get a single thing accomplished that she’d wanted to that day; and in spite of this she’d been so busy the whole day that she hadn’t even gotten a chance to eat lunch. So by the time 5:30 came around, no amount of extra-strength superglue could have kept Liz in her desk. She was out the door and in desperate need of a drink. Deadlines be damned.

Once she exited the building into the cool autumn air, still thick with the scent of last night’s rainfall, she tried to compartmentalize her work-related troubles and focus on her personal life, specifically her concerns for Serena. Serena was falling hard for this guy Ben in no uncertain terms. This was supposed to be a good thing; Liz wanted Serena to be happy, and clearly Ben was making her happy. So what was the problem? The problem was, she was afraid of Serena getting hurt, and if she were to judge this guy by the company he kept, the signs weren’t exactly pointing to good. Still, Liz told herself, it had been one day. Give the guy a chance.

Something else about the situation was bothering Liz, though, and she couldn’t figure out what it was. Was it this guy, Ben? Liz hadn’t even met him yet, and she’d already decided to give the guy a chance before jumping to any conclusions. Was it Serena? Serena was falling fast and truly; and as flighty and effervescent and light-hearted as she could be in her personal life, Liz knew Serena wasn’t the type to hand over her heart lightly. She had instincts, and she tempered them with reason before making any big decisions. Plus, Serena was a grown woman and didn’t need her roommate or anyone else looking out for her. She had looked after her own schooling and found her own job and her own apartment, her own friends and her own life. Of course she could find her own boyfriend. She could take care of herself. Liz certainly wouldn’t appreciate Serena’s interference if the situations were reversed.

Maybe that was it. The situations weren’t reversed. In spite of having such wonderful friends, Liz didn’t have a satisfying career or an enjoyable work environment like Serena did, and it had been grating on her for a while. She just wanted something that she could be a little passionate about. And now, after the both of them had spent so much time in Dating Hell, Serena seemed to have found the prince hidden in a world full of nothing but frogs. Frogs that didn’t help you up when you fell down. Frogs that tried to get you into bed before they even knew your name. Frogs that sent embarrassingly expensive gifts to your office, exposing you to the censure and gossip of your co-workers. Frogs whose crazed sisters showed up at your apartment from out of nowhere screaming at you. And if she was brutally honest with herself, Liz, as happy as she was for her friend, couldn’t help but wonder why she was still stuck with frogs. And she didn’t like herself for it.

The front door of Michael’s bar couldn’t have come at a better time, Liz thought. She pushed it open and started to make her way towards the bar when she saw her cousin. Instead of serving a customer or sitting with a book as he usually was, he was stuck in an unmistakable lip-lock with a woman who looked suspiciously similar to Maria Deluca.

Liz’s gut turned sour, and it wasn’t because of the sight of Michael’s hand creeping towards places that no cousin should ever have to witness. She turned on her heels and walked out again. Was everyone in the city but her coupling off?

There was only one other place Liz could think of to go now.

~*~

“Liz?”

“Hi, Alex.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I need a drink.”

“Okay.”

“And rolls.”

“We can do that.”

“And a dessert menu.”

Alex led her to a booth near the bar, ordering two vodka tonics from the bartender as they passed. He waited until she slid onto one bench before he took the other and handed her the dessert menu. “Tell me what’s going on.”

~*~

“Oh my God … what are you doing?” Ben asked, trying to sound exasperated, but in reality he was a little turned on by her enthusiasm over the whole thing.

“Wait, just wait.” Serena excitedly punched the speed dial code into her cell phone.

“Serena, who could you possibly be calling?”

“Shh, quiet time now.”

“You’re on the phone!”

“Exactly.”

“So quiet time only applies to me?”

“Now you’re catching on.”

“Serena, we’re in the middle of our first official date. With a pre-ordained time for pick-up and a bouquet of flowers and a nice dinner and everything. I even wore tie, for fuck’s sake! Now hang up the phone.”

“You’re really having trouble with this quiet time concept, aren’t you?” Ben made a grab for the phone, but Serena was too quick for him. She shushed him again. “It’s ringing.”

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” Ben mumbled.

“Hello, Peter? You’re never going to guess who I’m having dinner with right now!”

~*~
TBC